At the moment of climax, I felt a surge of electricity course through my body. I didn’t hold back, releasing my seed deep inside Betty. Even though these seeds couldn’t get her pregnant, I pushed myself as deep as possible, making sure not a drop was wasted.
Maybe it was the thrill of the moment, or some kind of psychological kick, but our lovemaking hadn’t been this intense and satisfying in a long time.
Betty seemed to feel the same way. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the foreplay Michael had given her before me, but she too reached a climax that had been long in coming.
Afterward, I withdrew from her, and the thick semen that had been stored up in my scrotum for who knows how long began to flow out from her.
Watching her lazy, satisfied expression, I reached over to the nightstand for some wet wipes and started cleaning her up. Betty just lay there, letting me wipe her, her breathing slowly becoming more even. Once I finished, she drifted off into a deep sleep.
Holding her in my arms, I too prepared to sleep, wondering if tonight’s assertion of dominance would have any effect, and if Michael had overheard our lovemaking. Satisfied, I fell asleep, not having felt this kind of warmth in a long time.
The next morning, I woke up to a tickling sensation on my nose. Opening my eyes, I saw Betty, already awake, playfully brushing my nose with her hair, a smile on her face.
"Awake?" I rubbed my eyes, and as Betty saw me wake up, her smile faded and she huffed slightly before turning away from me. I checked the time; it was still early, no rush to get up.
"Honey, still mad?" I wrapped my arms around her from behind, nuzzling into the nape of her neck, inhaling the fresh scent of her hair.
"Mad? Why wouldn’t I be? You suspect me of cheating..." Betty spoke with her back to me. Though she claimed to be angry, her tone was much softer now. That’s how it is between spouses; fights in bed often end in bed, and there are no grudges that last overnight.
"I’m sorry, honey. I’ve been too sensitive," I sighed, knowing all my explanations were futile. "It’s complicated... Who can understand the worries in my heart?"
"Actually, honey, I understand you," Betty said as she turned around and embraced me, whispering in my ear. "When I think about it, it’s also my fault. I’ve been so caught up with Michael lately that I’ve neglected you a bit. That’s why you feel insecure. I studied some psychology, you know. It’s normal for you to have doubts and worries about our relationship, especially with your health issues. "
"I should have been more understanding, but I couldn’t help getting upset..."
Indeed, her words were a wake-up call. My performance issues and infertility, coupled with having a beautiful wife and my frequent business trips, naturally led to insecurities. Betty’s understanding sweetened my heart immensely.
"And you were really naughty last night..." Betty said after lying in my arms for a while, playfully punching me lightly.
"What do you mean?" I knew exactly what she was referring to, but I couldn’t help playing dumb.
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"Still asking? You sneakily, without telling me it was you..." Betty was referring to last night when I had stealthily pinned her down from behind, relentlessly making love to her without letting her see who it was behind her, which ended up scaring her to tears.
"Who else could it be, silly?" I chuckled, trying to keep my expression calm, though I left my next thought unspoken, "There are only three of us in the house, if not me, could it be Michael?"
"I thought it was..." Betty stammered in her fluster.
"Thought it was Michael?" Perhaps with our issues out in the open and our relationship on the mend, I couldn’t help but tease her a bit, keeping my expression neutral, free from other emotions.
"What are you thinking? I know it wouldn’t be Michael..." Betty’s words trailed off mid-sentence, her face flashing a moment of tension, as if realizing she had misspoken, a brief flicker of panic in her eyes.
How could she be so sure it wasn’t Michael? There seemed to be a problem here, but my mind wasn’t quick enough to recall everything I had seen before.
"Michael is our son, he’s too well-behaved to do such a thing. So it definitely wasn’t him. Your thoughts are too filthy, don’t let yourself wander like that again..." Betty quickly covered up her slip with these words, but the fleeting panic I caught in her demeanor made me somewhat skeptical of her explanation.
"Then who did you think it was?" I didn’t say anything else, keeping my expression unchanged. As a seasoned journalist often undercover, my acting skills could easily pass for those of an actor.
"I thought maybe I was drunk and forgot to lock the door, and a thief had come in... Let’s not talk about this anymore... I need to get up and make breakfast..." Betty brushed me off and got out of bed to dress, though it seemed she was trying to avoid further discussion.
Seeing Betty getting up, I also prepared to get up.
Betty was making breakfast, and Michael hadn’t come out of his bedroom yet. Maybe the kid was too embarrassed.
After I finished washing up, Betty had breakfast ready: sandwiches and juice. Seeing Michael still hadn’t gotten up, Betty went to his room to wake him up.
Usually, Betty would enter Michael’s room without hesitation, directly opening the door, perhaps because I was home, she was afraid I might overthink, so she gently knocked on Michael’s door instead of pushing it open right away.
After knocking twice, the door opened, and Michael came out, yawning and rubbing his red eyes.
Both Betty and I had different expressions upon seeing Michael like this, each harboring our own thoughts.
I don’t need to mention my own thoughts; if it hadn’t been for my timely return last night, Michael might have defiled my wife, so he probably didn’t sleep well out of fright.
Betty, unaware of last night’s events, thought she hadn’t stayed with Michael, resulting in his insomnia. Seeing Michael yawning profusely, a flicker of guilt and pity crossed her eyes.
After all, Betty had spent almost every night with Michael the previous week; suddenly without her, Michael was bound to feel unsettled.