"You don't turn me on enough for us to roleplay." My husband of 2 years said to me. It took me some time to process what he said.
"What?! What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Is this some kind of a joke?" I asked him incredulously.
"Do I look lik...
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"Fuck!" Zeyansh yelled out as he orgasmed inside me and then rolled off of me to his side of the bed.
And just like always, I was nowhere near mine.
No surprise there!
Sex with Zeyansh was more of a chore than a way for lovers to show their love for each other. He never engages in foreplay; he never says any sweet words, and he never wants to cuddle.
Rather than feeling like his wife, I feel like a prostitute when we make love. I am so frustrated with his behavior that I've contemplated divorce many times before, but would immediately regret it after. The guilt of wanting to divorce my husband over unsatisfying sex would haunt me my whole life.
"Well, I wanted to talk to you about something. I think we can spice up our sex life by-
Are you listening? Are you asleep?" I asked him and turned over to his side to see him asleep.
He looked emotionless yet calm. I saw a strand of hair stuck to his forehead. I moved closer to him, tucked his hair, covered him with a blanket, and kissed his forehead and lips. This is the only time I get to admire my husband, kiss him and hug him.
I mean, he's a good man who earns well and respects our family and me. Though he might seem like an emotionless fool, he's always been concerned about me.
Many times I've felt insecure about myself. I've asked myself countless times if he was repulsed by my olive skin tone, my stretch marks, my huge breasts, my chubby stomach, or my flabby arms. But not once has he shown any signs of disgust or made me feel insecure.
And I take pride in being the best wife in the entire world. I love packing my husband his lunches, making him breakfast, picking up after him, making him dinner, comforting him when he loses a patient, and sometimes giving him a head massage. I don't see it as something oppressive but rather tasks that I enjoy doing to show my husband my love for him.
So what if the sex was bad? I still love him nonetheless. With that thought, I fell into a world of obliviousness.
***
The next morning I did my morning routine, got dressed, and headed down to make breakfast and lunch for the both of us. I made his favorite aloo paratha with dahi for breakfast. I then proceeded to pack his lunch and then wrote him a note telling him to take care of himself and not stress too much because God was looking after us and all will end well in a notecard and slipped it into his lunch bag.
Initially, in the beginning days of our marriage, he strictly asked me not to cook, clean after him, or do any wifely duties for him, but my stubborn ass argued and won in the end.
"Hmm, smells good." He said as he walked into the kitchen with a blue shirt tucked into dress pants, his coat, and a stethoscope hanging on his arm.
He was so fucking handsome and delicious. I'm blessed to have a man like him.
