She’s done

Monica opens her eyes, and looks up at me. “Did you come?”

“Not yet,” I say. My dick throbs in front of me glistening with my wife’s arousal. It has owned her pussy tonight. Now it wants to own her little asshole.

“Please don’t be mad,” Monica pleads, “but I’m done. The **** hit me and the room is spinning. If I do anymore, I am going to throw up.”

“Oh don’t feel bad. I don’t want you to get sick,” I say. I **** my disappointment down. Just another incident of being unfulfilled. It’s happened so often these last two years. I should have expected it tonight.

Monica slowly takes off her lingerie and throws it to the floor. She rolls over to my side of the bed and curls into a fetal position, pulling the blanket over her naked body. I look to her empty side of the bed. A giant wet spot darkens the sheet.

Great. Not only do I have blue balls, I have to sleep on the wet sex spot.

I look around for a dry towel. Everything is wet. Fuck. I have to go get one from the linen closet. I can’t go out naked. I put on a pair of sweat pants, and hope the band will keep down my erection. It keeps it flush against my body but my head pokes out from the top. I have to throw a shirt on to cover that up.

Almost fully dressed now, I leave the room.

The plan:

1. Get a towel

2. Jack off

3. Pass out

4. Hope this night has re-spark our sex life

Of course my plan is immediately ruined when I shut my door, and see two people sitting on the couch.