Mature Monogamous Sex That Sizzles: Santa’s Helper Likes 69

Thankfully, January slowed everything down. Rob had inventory and beginning-of-year meetings and lots of late nights. I had year-end tax planning to do and new-hire responsibilities. We came home, smiled and nodded at each other, grabbed something to nibble, crashed on the couch downstairs. Sometimes there was a fire. More often than not, just the floor heater was rolled out and cranked as high as it would go. Rob wrapped himself up in what he called his “woobie”—a wonderful blanket that warmed your bones and brought about an almost instant calm and blessed sleep. I wrapped myself in my own blanket, rifled through Facebook posts while sipping a glass of wine until it was time for bed.

“Come on, sleepyhead, time for bed,” I’d poke Rob and inform him of the time and schedule.

“Yes ma’am,” he’d mutter. Sometimes he’d get up and join me, sometimes he’d stay on the couch.

Every morning in January I would wake to him clacking away in his office. The discipline Rob had developed over the last year was pretty amazing. By four each morning, if not earlier, he was in front of his computer working away on his writing projects. He played his cards close to the vest, not yet revealing what he was working on, but he did share that things were going well and he was pleased with the results.

It was the end of the month. January was gone. We hadn’t enjoyed each other physically since our last trip down to Coral Gables. It wasn’t intentional; no stated desire for celibacy. Life and work and family had simply gotten in the way. Rob was still attentive. His hands were often on me in the morning and the evening, caressing me, loving me, letting me know he was still there. Unfortunately, there was always something standing between our intimacy. 

As I prepped for work that Tuesday morning, applying makeup, curling my hair, I resolved that our “dry spell” would come to an end this evening. 

“Hey,” Rob came into the bedroom with a simmering cup of coffee for me. He placed it down on my dressing desk, hugged my shoulders and planted a kiss on my neck.

“Hey,” I offered, doing my best to catch his eyes with a smile. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“It’s what I do,” he threw out, then went to our bed and began the process of making it up. He pulled the two large couch cushions from his usual side of the bed—my stand-in husband when he didn’t make it up from the couch downstairs—and tossed them to our loveseat.

“You know, if you would get your ass up at night, I wouldn’t have to rely on a stand-in husband,” I remarked.

“Hmmmph. Sorry, sweetie. Work is kicking my ass. Kinda tired by the time I get home.”

“Tonight, you want to make it to bed.”

“Oh yeah?”

I stood up from the dresser, walked over to him, opened up my dressing robe so that he could see cleavage. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I gave him a peck on the lips.

“Yeah.”

His hands went inside the robe, rubbing my sides, tickling my ribs. Palms encased both breasts, rubbing gently. Rob kissed me, generously, working in some tongue. He tasted like coffee and spicy tobacco. My man.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Oh, a little something-something. It was going to be your Christmas present before you whisked me away for an awesome trip down to Coral Gables.”

“Mmmm, Coral Gables. That was nice.”

“Yeah, it was. Seems like forever ago.”

“Yeah, sometimes it does. And then sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

I smiled at him and gave him a peck on the cheek as he squeezed my ass.

“Time for some rekindling. Get your ass home tonight. Drink some energy drink or something today. I want you in my bed.”

“That’s pretty direct. Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”

“Your fault. I was well on my way to being a doting grandmother. Now I’m…”

“Sexy as hell?”

“I’m not sure what I am anymore. But I know I’m still your wife and …

Join Sandi and Robert as they embark on the next phase of life: Life in the empty nest–a time of discovery, of self-revelation and fresh starts.

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