I love my wife

In the quiet solitude of the evening, Jake leaned against the kitchen counter, the cool marble pressing against his palms as he stared into the open fridge. The hum of the appliance was the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment, a stark contrast to the chaos of his mind. His eyes scanned the contents of the fridge, lingering on a half-empty bottle of beer and a Tupperware of leftover meatloaf, but his stomach remained uninterested. It had been a long, tiresome day at the bank, and the last thing he wanted was to cook.

"Babe?" he called out, hoping to hear Milla's comforting voice. Her response was muffled, likely coming from the living room where she often retreated to after a day of dealing with their energetic toddler. "What's for dinner?"

Milla's footsteps grew louder as she approached the kitchen, her eyes glancing at the clock. "You're home late," she said, not unkindly. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes and her once-neat bun now a loose mess of hair.

Jake nodded. "Overtime," he replied, shutting the fridge with a sigh. "Chef's got me working like a dog."

Milla's expression softened. She knew the extra shifts meant more money, but it also meant less time with her husband. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head resting on his chest. "It's okay," she murmured. "We can order in tonight. You must be starving."

Jake couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. Her touch was warm and comforting, and it reminded him of the growing distance between them. He kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you want."

While Milla retreated to the living room to scroll through food options on her phone, Jake took the opportunity to visit the bathroom. He relieved himself, the sound echoing off the tiles, and then washed his hands. Glancing up, he caught his reflection in the mirror. He had to admit, he was in pretty good shape for a man working a desk job and fatherhood. The buzz cut he maintained made his strong jawline more prominent, and his shaven beard gave him a rugged look that Milla used to love. His brown eyes stared back, searching for answers to the question that had been plaguing him for months: why couldn't he satisfy her anymore? His 5½-inch dick looked back at him, seemingly mocking his current predicament.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he heard Milla's voice call out to him again. "Jake, come watch with me!" He found her on the couch, eyes glued to the TV screen. Temptation Island was playing, a reality show where couples tested the boundaries of their relationships by sending each other to live with attractive singles. Rachel had a guilty pleasure for these dramatic shows, something she liked to unwind with after a hectic day with their son. Although it wasn't his cup of tea, he knew it was important to spend quality time together, even if it meant watching something he didn't particularly enjoy.

Jake sat down beside her, and without a word, Milla leaned into him, her head finding its usual spot on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. He could smell the faint scent of her perfume, something floral and sweet, a scent that used to drive him wild with desire. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, savoring the warmth of her skin. Milla's eyes remained on the screen, but her body language told a different story. Her leg began to shake slightly, a sign that she was growing restless.

The look in her eyes spoke for itself. No words were needed. After a short second of intense eye contact, that felt like years, Milla leaned in and whispered, "Milla, I need you." Her voice was soft, almost a whimper, and it sent a bolt of electricity straight to his core. The reality show's dramatic music seemed to crescendo in the background, as if scoring their own intimate moment.

Without a second thought, they both stood up, their clothes almost tearing themselves off as they desperately sought to reconnect with each other. The fabric of Milla's dress fell to the floor, revealing her full, heavy breasts, their tips hard with need. Jake's shirt and pants followed suit, his erection springing free as if released from captivity. The room grew hotter as the tension between them thickened, the only sound the rustle of fabric and their rapid, shallow breaths.

They stumbled into the bedroom, Milla's hand firmly wrapped around his cock. The feel of her palm was exhilarating, but Jake's mind was racing. He hadn't been able to maintain an erection during their last few attempts at intimacy, and the fear of failure was a heavy weight on his shoulders. Milla's eyes searched his, a question lingering in her gaze, one that he wasn't ready to answer.

With a gentle touch, Milla knelt before him, her full, red lips parting slightly as she leaned in to kiss the tip of his cock. Her eyes never left his, a silent plea for reassurance. He felt the warmth of her breath and the softness of her skin, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to relax. Her mouth enveloped him, and she took him in deeper, inch by inch, her eyes watering slightly as she worked to take him all in. Her tongue danced around the head, swirling and teasing, and Jake's body responded, his cock growing harder with each passing second.

But just as he was about to lose himself in the sensation, a sharp rapping at the door pierced through the haze of desire that had settled over them. Milla's eyes widened in surprise, and she pulled away, looking up at him with a mix of confusion and annoyance. "Who the hell could that be?" she whispered, glancing at the clock that read 10 PM.

Jake felt his heart drop to his stomach. "Fuck, I don't know," he murmured, his voice gruff with frustration. Milla sat back on her heels, her hand still on his cock, her thumb gently stroking the base. The knocking continued, growing more insistent.

They both knew they couldn't ignore it. Milla stood up, smoothing her hair and adjusting her clothes as best as she could. "I'll get it," she said, a hint of irritation in her voice. "You stay here."

Jake watched as Milla hurried out of the bedroom, the fabric of her white nightgown fluttering behind her like a spectral veil. She had thrown it over herself in such haste that it almost looked as if she were floating towards the door. The knocking grew more urgent as she approached, a relentless beat that seemed to echo the racing of their hearts. Milla paused for a moment, hand hovering over the doorknob, and took a deep breath before turning it.