by Sebastian Wallace
Every week my wife Melissa very kindly grants me an evening to myself to, as she thinks, catch up on paperwork from the surgery, watch a few of what she calls my boring-old-fart programmes on TV or just do a little quiet reading.
She goes over to visit her parents and drops our daughter Beth off, heads off to her night class and then comes back home after collecting Beth. She's taken all sorts of courses over the last couple of years: Sign Language for Beginners, Thai Cookery, Essentials of Plumbing and, one which I heartily encouraged, Anger Management.
What I get up to during my Melissa-free evenings rarely involves paperwork, television or quiet reading, though. Indeed, quite often I spend my 'night alone' very much not alone.
You see, I regard my weekly night of freedom as an opportunity to give way to certain temptations that I (usually!) manage to keep locked away the rest of the time. Melissa can have me all to herself six nights a week – not that she seems to want to take advantage of that prospect these days – but on the seventh night, I think it's healthy for me to have a change; to try something a little different.
I find myself looking forward to it. I've sometimes worried that patients might catch me grinning at an inappropriate moment during surgery as I'm contemplating how I might be going to spend this week's evening of supposed solitude. I regularly have to fasten up my white medical jacket to conceal the erection which almost invariably develops as I count the hours down and wonder what I might get up to this particular week.
The anticipation is usually far more exciting than the event, as so often happens in life, but there's always a chance, every week, that this week is going to be a good one.
At the moment, my evening of fun happens on a Thursday. Melissa busies herself learning relaxation techniques which don't seem to work terribly well, giving me until about half past ten to enjoy myself in whatever way I choose.
You may not believe it, but my little 'hobby', if I can call it that, started off rather by accident. Melissa had gone over to her parents' and I was spending a few hours on the internet, searching for random stuff as the mood took me.
We hadn't been married long but already Melissa was starting to show that she was growing bored of having sex with me: I often wonder, actually, how genuinely she ever enjoyed it. She was coming down with almost nightly headaches and her period pains could go on for weeks. I seemed to be requesting sex, or trying to contrive ways to interest her in sex, on a basis she felt was unreasonably frequent.
I must have typed "men's briefs" or something similar into Google, hoping to find something I could wear as a surprise to relight Melissa's interest in me.
I opened up a site which showed a dark haired athletic-looking young guy wearing a pair of beautifully-fitting white briefs. My eyes lingered for a few seconds on his very well-equipped bulge. I liked it: partly in the sense of wanting to look as good as he did in a similar state of attire, but also just for the sake of how attractive he looked; how sexy he looked.
I clicked on
Total Votes: 28
Posted: 2006/10/3 14:05 Updated: 2006/10/3 14:05
You're a very gifted writer, sebastian. I especially enjoyed the little details you used in your writing. Deliciously erotic.