Forbidden Echoes Within

Hi, I’m Evie. I’m really conflicted about being here. It helps that you don’t know me from Adam, because I really need someone to talk to about sex without feeling embarrassed. This community seems open and accepting, though.

I’ve been married to a wonderful, loving man for nearly ten years. Aidan is a great provider, an attentive husband, and an involved father. He makes me happy in every way. That may be a bit of an exaggeration because we are both fallible humans, but he satisfies me. The problem is, I’m not sure I do the same for him. I know he is dedicated to our marriage and would never have an affair or divorce me. And whenever we have a disagreement or conflict in any other area of our life, we work it out; even if one of us gets what we want and the other doesn’t, we come to a place of agreement. I guess that’s where we are in our sex life, too.

The thing is, I really don’t think much about sex. Through the years, Aidan’s told me occasionally that he’d like to have more—in frequency, novelty, openness—but I just don’t think like that. Life revolves around work, chores, bills, kids, etc., and sex becomes just another box to check. Not to say I don’t like it! Once I get started, I think we both enjoy the outcome. But even I have to admit that it’s probably pretty boring for him, especially when I read on here about some of the things you guys do in your marriages.

I know we need to discuss it more, but I always felt so weird talking openly about sex with him. The way I grew up, sex was understood to be a necessary, even enjoyable, part of marriage but nobody talked about it. Those who did, we considered crass and crude, not respectable. They were probably doing it before they got married, and they couldn’t possibly be Christians because Jesus never talked about sex! He didn’t even get married, so how could sex be very important?

But after reading some of your stories and articles on MH, I’m coming to believe that maybe things we modern Christians have called “dirty,” early Christians just understood as part of life. I mean, my life is probably no harder than the lives of women of Jesus’ time. They had work, chores, kids, and husbands with needs. They had illness, stress, hormones, and headaches—all the obstacles to getting “in the mood” that I do. But they still had lots of kids, so they had to be having sex. Maybe Jesus didn’t have to talk about it because it was just normal for married people to be getting it on!

So I resolved to talk to my husband about our sex life. Since reading about what happens with your lives inspired this change in me (small as it may be), I decided to share how it went. Maybe I’ll make a difference in someone else’s life, too.

I didn’t postpone the conversation until some special occasion or send the kids off; with the current health situation, I’d have been waiting forever. Instead, I settled on a Friday night and asked my husband to stay up late and talk. I’m sure I made him a little nervous because a talk usually means I’m upset about something. Believe me, I don’t boss my husband around, but we all know that “if Momma ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.” He probably felt defensive before I began.

After reading a chapter of the Bible together and praying as a family a little earlier than usual, we sent the kids off to read in bed until their “lights out” time. Then I poured a glass of wine and settled next to him on the couch.

“Honey, can we talk about… sex?”

I could tell I’d taken him aback. “Uh, sure. Is something wrong?”

“Well, that’s what I want to ask you. I know you sometimes wish we, you know, did it more. What do you think would be enough?”

“I don’t know. I know you don’t think about it as much as I do. I guess most women don’t. But I’d be happy doing it every day if you were into it.”

I hope I hid my shock. It really shouldn’t have surprised me, based on what I’ve read here. It seems that most men think that way, too.

“Well, I think that’s probably normal. But what would be a significant improvement? I mean, right now, Saturday mornings are about it, and not even every week.”

“True,” he agreed. “But I wouldn’t know when you’d be in the mood. I hate to make a move and be told no. It… kind of hurts my feelings.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I know I haven’t always been as responsive as you need me to be. But I’ve been researching it, and it seems women tend to be slow starters, at least a lot of us. And sometimes, when it’s not a good time for me and you touch me in a certain way, I’m afraid to get your hopes up by responding… romantically.”

“You know,” he replied thoughtfully, “it isn’t always sex I want when I kiss or touch you. Sometimes I just want to be assured that you find me sexually attractive—that I turn you on.”

“Really?” It had never occurred to me that my husband might need to feel desired more than to just satisfy the “urge.”

“Honest,” he replied. “Just returning my attention in, you know, a sensual way would satisfy me most of the time. Though I’d never say no if you wanted more.” We both had to chuckle at that. He’s definitely a man.

“Okay, let me start with that. This week, I’m going to try to just respond to kisses and touches with a little more ‘heat’. Will you help me practice by giving me lots of opportunities?” I tried to give him a confident smile, but I really wasn’t sure I’d remember to return his advances in kind. I always feel so distracted during family times, and all day, every day seems like family time lately.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said. Then he leaned in toward me to kiss my cheek near my ear before whispering, “Shall we start now?”

After opening up this way with him, I felt emotionally close to him. I had expected this conversation to end with sex anyway, though a typical Friday night was more likely to involve a Netflix movie than bedroom activity. I turned my head to meet his lips. As his mouth gently covered mine, I leaned into the arm that he wrapped around my back and let my fingertips play in the curls peeking out of his unbuttoned neckline.

I respond best to a slow buildup, and Aidan has learned this. Usually, he wakes me up by slowly stroking my arm with his fingertips until I’m aware enough to go brush my teeth. When I come back to bed, he kisses and strokes me all over until I think about getting more involved. But this time, I decided to try something different. I pulled away from him and trailed kisses down the side of his neck, then followed the edge of his collar down to the little divot at the base of his throat. Tentatively, I tickled him there with the tip of my tongue.

My husband groaned, which gave me a little thrill. I liked knowing that I could make him feel excited—me, not just the idea of having sex! As far as he knew, we weren’t even going to get naked. But that idea niggled at the back of my mind.

Aidan’s fingers threaded through my shoulder-length, dark brown curls and tilted my head back. He dropped little kisses along my jawline from ear to chin, the covered my mouth with his again.

I let my tongue slip forward to flick at his upper lip. Of course, we have French kissed before, but never had I started it. Aidan shuddered, and I felt his grin.

“You are doing a great job.” He spoke the words against my mouth, then leaned back against the arm of the sofa and pulled me with him. As I settled against his chest, he rested his chin against my forehead and stroked my bare upper arm. I felt the bulge in his crotch, so I knew he wanted me, but he seemed content to savor our connection. While that warmed my heart, I wasn’t sure I would be content to let it end here for tonight.

After a while, I suggested we head to bed. We have a Jack-and-Jill bathroom, so we brushed our teeth and changed into our sleeping attire at the same time. Aidan pulled on soft pj bottoms, and I grabbed the top in lieu of my usual oversized sleep shirt. I’m not exactly slim, but a glance in the mirror assured me that it grazed instead of hugged my full figure. I appreciated the curve of my bottom peeking below the hem, knowing Aidan would too. When I raised my eyes to meet his in the mirror, I blushed.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” Aidan complimented me.

“Thank you. I’m glad you think so.”

Aidan came and stood behind me. Watching my face in the mirror, he let his hands wander up and down my sides. I felt self-conscious and closed my eyes, leaning my head back and against his cheek, but I enjoyed the relaxing feeling of his loving touch. When his palms came around to the front and stroked upward to cup my breasts, my breath caught.

Though I usually don’t encourage him vocally, I had promised to try being more responsive. So I allowed myself a low moan, wondering if it would feel fake. Instead, it kind of felt like a release, as if I had held back from expressing my enjoyment of his touch until now.

Aidan’s head dipped and he kissed the side of my neck then nuzzled my ear. “You are so sexy right now,” he said.

“Am I?”

“Mm-hmm. I like it when you moan like that.”

“What else do you like?”

“I liked seeing you check out your butt with a smile on your face.”

“Oh.” I didn’t really know how to respond to that. I didn’t want to seem conceited, but Aidan has always liked to compliment how my backside looks in certain jeans or skirts. At least with him, I could admit that I enjoyed how it looks, too. So I met his eyes in our reflection from under my lashes and said, “It’s a nice bottom, isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied, his hands gliding down to caress my cheeks. “How about you come to bed and let me snuggle up against it for a while.”

“Okay,” I agreed with a smile. He really didn’t seem to be in any hurry to advance past this sexy touching and banter. Yet I, who could usually fall asleep pressed up against him, found his restraint mildly frustrating. I wasn’t going to ask for sex—that’s still outside my comfort zone—but I sort of wanted him to.

We climbed under the covers and cuddled. I felt his flannel-covered hardness against me and pushed back slightly, but he didn’t make any move to initiate sex. Eventually, Aidan softened, the arm he had draped across me relaxed, and his breathing deepened. Maybe I had just waited too late in the evening; he was dead to the world.

The next morning, I awoke to his fingers trailing up and down my arm. Where I normally would respond with a sleepy groan and a request for five more minutes, this morning I climbed promptly out of bed to freshen up and return to my freshly-showered-and-shaved husband. I have always appreciated that he shaves on Saturday mornings before “couple-time.”

When I came back to bed, Aidan thanked me for the previous evening. He said he had really enjoyed my responses to him, especially how I had pushed up against him and rubbed in the night.

“Uh-uh,” I denied, incredulous. “You were dreaming.”

“I’m pretty sure you were. I almost woke you to see if you wanted to do more than rub, but I was enjoying it too much.”

“It surprised me that you went to sleep so easily last night,” I told him. “I would have been open to taking things further.”

“I didn’t want to push you too far too fast,” Aidan said. “I wanted you to know that I appreciated the effort you were making for me. Besides, there is something I like about being in that excited state for a while, you know?”

“It doesn’t frustrate you?” I asked.

“Kind of, but in a good way. Besides, I was pretty sure you’d still be up for our Saturday morning.”

I let my fingers trail down his chest to the front of his pajama pants, which were already slightly tented. “Are you up for it?” That was probably the most forward thing I’d ever said to my husband.

Aidan smiled. “Let me show you,” he said.

Did you like this story? Forbidden Echoes Within look, but like these, here Story taboo sex.