Two Different Roads

Please Don't Stop Loving Me

Mike never would have wanted to admit it to himself, but John's words had had an effect on him. To some degree, he was guilty of the same thing his predecessor had been, utter hubris born of security. Ellen's love was like a constant, immovable force, and despite his words to the contrary, he'd long ago begun to just accept it as his due, something to which he was entitled rather than the gift it was, something it would be impossible for him to lose.
Yes, on a small level, he was fully aware of how special this woman and her affection was, not to mention how likely it would be that he'd lose it forever if she discovered his near-constant cheating, but he'd always been entirely confident that he would never be found out. He was smart, he was careful, and when he was with his wife, he was completely devoted to her. In Ellen's arms, thoughts of other women never intruded for a second. He hadn't said or done anything in her presence that would inspire the slightest doubt or suspicion, because when she was near, no one else existed for him. It was only on his own that the old insecurities and pain of past rejections surfaced to taunt him
He'd been an ugly, skinny, weird young man who hadn't really fit in anywhere, the misfit not even accepted by other misfits.

Girls had avoided him like the plague unless they wanted a 'buddy' and a shoulder to cry on. The boost to his ego from suddenly being able to have just about any woman he chose with very little effort was undeniable. He wanted to be wanted. His wife wanted him obviously (all the time and in every way imaginable), but it was a want largely from her love for him. It felt good to be considered attractive, sexy, without the added enhancement that stemmed from affection.
Ellen thought he was worthy of her devotion, and that MADE him desirable. The random strangers he bedded ALREADY thought he was desirable, and that made him fuckable. He found he needed both of these things.
The price he might pay for having his cake and eating it too had been shoved to the back of his mind...until now. When he entered the bedroom they were occupying at John's house and saw his impossibly beautiful wife lying there deep in the dreams of the innocent, he was overwhelmed by an immediate sense of insecurity, outright fear. He couldn't lose her, because he wouldn't be able to live without her, wouldn't WANT to.
When he slipped under the covers beside her he felt certain that he must be trembling. God he needed the comfort of her body right now, to be reassured of her continued love and want of him. He was almost afraid to wake her though, somehow sure he would see the terrible knowledge in her eyes, and that he would be cut off, cast adrift from the oasis she'd provided in the desert of his life.

He was saved from the agony of indecision when she rolled over and found him there next to her. She was always a light sleeper, and she awakened immediately when she sensed his presence.
"Did you have a good time with John?" She asked drowsily.
"I did, but I missed you. How are you feeling?"
"Fine for now."
"Good." He stroked her hair, traced the contours of her face gently in the moonlight pouring through the window.
"You know how much I love you, don't you Marie?"
"You sound so uncertain. Of course I do, and I love YOU, always."
She kissed him as if for added emphasis, and the desire he continually felt for her ignited instantly. "Can I make love to you?"
"Michael, you're behaving rather strangely. You know by now that you NEVER have to ask."
"That's really sweet of you to say, but i dont want you to feel that you have to have sex on demand whenever I feel like it."
"You make it sound as if it's some kind of duty or obligation for me. Over half the time I'd say it's me seducing YOU. I LOVE making love with you." She slid down the thin straps of her lacy nightgown, baring her breasts in invitation.
He found himself grinning, that silly schoolboy grin she always inspired in him. Sometimes it still seemed inconceivable that this lovely woman belonged to him, that she allowed him complete access to that perfect body. She trembled, sighed softly as his eager hands caressed her, her nipples already hardened with desire at his touch. He continued to circle one with a thumb while taking the other into his mouth, licking, sucking, grazing it gently with his teeth until she was nearly overwhelmed with sensation.
He kicked off the covers impatiently and undressed her, this time immediately settling his head between her legs. If not an overly enthusiastic practitioner as yet, he was certainly willing, and he liked to think his skill had increased exponentially. When he added his fingers to his determined tongue the orgasms he gave her were always especially intense.
She was still trembling with the aftershocks when he discarded his pajamas and came to rest on top of her. For a time he only kissed her, caressed her body, whispering words of love against her skin. It was somewhat uncharacteristic of him to be so effusive, so vulnerable, but he needed to reassure himself as well as her that she was the one, she was everything.

"I'm not sure how long I can last. I want you so much," he breathed as he sank inside her.
"Just love me Michael."
"Marie, my Marie, you're mine."
Why exactly did he believe he needed more than this? He couldn't think of a single reason just now. To be loved, wanted by a woman such as his wife...
She gripped his back hard enough to leave impressions of her nails as she came, her legs linked tightly around his waist. He began to pursue his own release now, taking her as deeply as he could manage, wanting, needing the connection, the closeness.
When his orgasm washed over him at last it served as another comforting form of possession. After all it was his seed that had implanted itself within her, that was already growing his child. He kissed her gratefully, held her tightly in his arms when it was over.
Everything would be all right. She still loved him. He silently prayed to whatever God existed that she always would.