After Hamlet

Monica left the room prepared for an average dinner and typical, married-couple-on-a-budget fun. She returned with gourmet dining in her stomach and lines of Shakespeare floating in her head. With a huff, she flopped on the bed and sighed. Then, she looked at Carl who wore a smile of smug self-contentment.

“You’re crazy,” she said with a smile. “I can’t believe you went through all that trouble.”

“It was no trouble. And I may be crazy but I can still ‘tell a hawk from a handsaw.’”

Monica sat up and chuckled. “Very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” he said as he walked to the bed. “Yes, I am.”

Rising, she slipped off her coat and tossed it over a nearby chair. As she hummed to herself, she walked to the bathroom and began to take off her earrings.

“Leave the jewelry on,” he said.

She turned to him and saw his eyes. He had the Killer Look in his eyes. Focused on her like a predator watching its prey before pouncing. Carl slipped off his coat and loosened his tie. Monica smiled, let her earrings dangle, and walked into the bathroom.

When she walked out, all she wore were her jewelry and a smile. “Is this what you had in mind, Mr. Smith?” She wore all her jewelry from the evening, her white lace bra, her white lace panties, and the white garter belt and stockings he always liked. Carl had told her previously that she looked like some cross between an angel and a high-priced escort when dressed up like that.

“Yes. Perfect.” The Killer Look intensified.

“And now, what would you like, Mr. Smith?”

He smiled and shifted uncomfortably. The use of such a formal address was a trigger for Carl. “I would like for you to come here and undress me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Monica crossed the floor walking like a runway model. They both smirked at the silly affectation. The walk did accentuate her long legs. Carl saw it and Monica knew he did.

When she stood before her husband, Monica slowly unbuttoned his shirt, kissing his chest as she went, savoring the taste of his skin on her lips. His athletic days were far behind him, but she could still feel the firm tone of the muscles in his chest and abs, even if time had robbed them of aesthetic perfection. She pushed the shirt off his shoulders and kissed his lips. She loosened his belt, and his pants fell to the ground in a crumpled heap by his shirt.

Monica slipped her fingers beneath his underwear and guided them to the floor. She dropped to her knees and took him into her mouth. She sucked him slowly and lightly, moaning as her mouth engulfed his head.

“Is this what you wanted, sir?” she paused to ask.

“Yes, baby,” he said between ragged breaths.

For a few minutes more, she alternated between slowly sucking on him and aggressively bobbing. She cupped his testicles and gave them a light and gentle teasing tickle by barely touching more than the hair around them. Carl grew weaker and leaned against the wall behind him. Monica tucked one hand between her legs and rubbed herself, becoming wetter and wetter in her hand. When she moaned again, he did too.

She looked up at him and smiled. Nudging his member with her nose and chin, she asked, “Now, what do you want, sir?”

Carl composed himself. “I want you.”

“How do you want me, sir?”

“On the bed,” he said with authority. “Lie down.”

With one last kiss, she stood and walked to the bed. In a flash, Carl crossed the floor and the two tumbled into bed in each other’s arms. As they kissed, Carl held her tightly and Monica found it difficult to breathe. With the force of his passion as much as the weight of his body, he pinned her to the mattress as he slipped inside her. She gasped as he glided in smoothly and effortlessly into her swollen, wet passage. She moaned into their kiss when he started to withdraw. With a thrust, he buried his cock into her again. Monica pulled her mouth away and groaned, “Oh, God, Mr. Smith,” before biting her lip.

Carl quickly settled into his favorite steady rhythm, a bit too slow for her tastes but, at this point, she did not mind. She loved these moments where he is buried deep inside her, her legs are wrapped around his waist, and together they are adrift on a sea of pleasure.

Together as only they can be.

His rhythm slowed and a disappointed look started to darken his brow. She was familiar with that look. He was losing his erection. She read his face and body language like lines on a page. He was thinking of what would come after this night and this trip was over. Back to the reality of a disappointing job working for an irrational boss for inadequate money. Back to too many bills with too high a balance for them to be comfortable. Back to his painting hobby in a garage full of half completed canvases which looked more like a graveyard of once great ideas and wasted potential.

He couldn’t change jobs and couldn’t demand more money. He couldn’t make the art he used to love. And now he couldn’t keep his dick hard enough to make love to his wife. As he grew older, there were more things he could not do than what he could.

Maybe that’s why they called it “impotence”.

It had happened before. She knew what was coming as he slowed almost to stopping and gave a defeated huff. He was going to roll away from her, get off the bed, go into the bathroom and close the door. She was never sure what he did in there. Was he trying to work himself up again? Did he just want to be alone? Was he hiding some kind of shame? Was he defeated?

Monica clamped her legs together with Carl between them and locking her ankles behind him. She grabbed his head with both hands, clutching behind his neck and pulled him in for the most forceful and passionate kiss she could muster.

Inside her body, she felt when he had started to wither. Something in her screamed that she wanted to feel him grow harder and know she was the cause of his renewed arousal.

“Monica-” he started to say in protest.

“What do you want to do to me?” she blurted out in a breathless rush. “What do you want to do to me?” she said again when he continued to look confused.

“Honey, I’m losing-”

She kissed him before he could finish his sentence. With one hand still clutching his neck, she reached down and grabbed his bare ass and squeezed, pulling him into her. He gasped and she could feel his cock twitch.

“I love how you fuck me,” she said. “Don’t stop fucking me.”

“But-”

“And I love you. And I love your cock. And I want to know what you want to do to me with that lovely perfect cock.” She could feel it twitch and slowly swell every time she said “cock”.

As she spoke, Monica stared into Carl’s eyes. She could feel him breathe deeper.

“I want to hear you moan for me,” he said, finally.

She clutched him and dug her nails into his skin and moaned softly for him. “And what else?”

He grabbed her shoulders and squeezed. She felt him grow again. “Again.”

She moaned long and low before saying, “Fuck me with that amazing cock I love, Carl.” As she said his name, she dragged her nails down his back. With each inch, his cock grew harder inside her.

At first slowly but with ever-increasing speed and force, he thrust into her with renewed energy. Her moans for his benefit turned to genuine gasps and moans of pleasure. With stroke after stroke, he grew stronger, filling her completely. Carl grabbed her legs and lifted her hips to meet his. He moaned, then groaned, then exploded inside her. She could feel each shot inside her. Gradually, he collapsed in a heap next to her, exhausted.

“Oh, God,” he said.

“Is that what you had in mind?” she asked. This time, she wore the smug smile.

“Almost. You didn’t cum.”

“It’s okay.”

Carl rolled over to her and kissed her as he slid his hand was between her legs, touching her clit gently in a favorite, familiar way.

She pushed his hand away. “No, it’s ok-“

“Let me,” he said softly.

“No, you don’t have to-“

“Let me,” he whispered into her ear before licking the lobe.

All protest melted away under his persistence. She welcomed his touch between her legs and the tingle it brought. She welcomed the pleasure and the waves through her body. She welcomed his breath in her ear and his kiss on her lips. She welcomed it all until her body could take no more. She tightened up and screamed as her orgasm hit. Wave after wave of pleasure splashed over her. It seemed to take forever. She didn’t mind.

When it was over, the two lovers lay side by side.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” she said.

Then they drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.