Happy Wife, Happy Life?

hard lion

When you watch TV shows that center on the husband being a buffoon, which is almost all shows, the wife tends to be a bitch. At some point, someone will say the phrase “happy wife, happy life.” Lion is not a buffoon, I don’t think I’m a bitch and the phrase tends to be “happy husband, happy life.” I know it doesn’t rhyme but bear with me.

Lion was upset the other day, thinking that I was bored with him or that I didn’t like him. He’s a very sensitive guy. If I spend too much time on my iPad or I don’t follow through with plans of sexual attention, he thinks something is wrong. In an effort to dissuade this, I changed our agreement from sexual attention at least every other day to sexual attention six days out of seven. I further promised to make afternoon delight the norm for as long as we’re quarantined and on weekends thereafter. We started yesterday.

At some point in the early afternoon, Lion went into the bedroom. I finished what I was doing and followed him. We watched some TV and snuggled a bit before I put the moves on him. When I finally moved into the handjob position, I grabbed the Magic Wand. Lion sighed. Clearly that wasn’t the attention he was hoping for. I told him I didn’t need to use it, but he told me to continue. He wasn’t very convincing. I proceeded for a few minutes and he did seem to be enjoying himself, but it definitely was not what he wanted. It wasn’t what I wanted either, but I’d decided to do something that was a little more than “just” masturbation. What I really wanted to do was give him a blow job, so I told him to lay across the bed. If you want to see a man move fast, tell him you’re going to give him a blow job.

Since he was already pretty hard from the Magic Wand, it didn’t take much to get him the rest of the way. I didn’t go right for sucking though. I kissed him all over and then teased him with the tip of my tongue. And when I finally started sucking him, I made sure there was a lot of suction involved. I don’t normally do it that way because it can get too intense, but intense was exactly what I was going for. I asked him how many days it had been. He said eight and I made a comment about that being no good. I didn’t say what that meant. It could have been too many or too little. At that point, I wasn’t sure which one.

As I continued making him squirm, I decided that I’d get him as close as I could for as long as I could without pushing him over the edge. If it happened, it happened, but I didn’t really want it to. Eight days is an average wait, but I haven’t really gotten him to the edge much since his last orgasm. He needs to suffer a bit. How can he truly enjoy an orgasm to its fullest if he hasn’t been frustrated enough? What’s enough? It’s not an exact science. Many times I think he’s suffered enough and, after orgasm, he’ll say he didn’t really want one. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy it or really want it. He just wanted to be denied again. That’s when I feel like I can’t win.

I don’t know how long I’ll make him wait. Maybe he’ll get lucky today. Maybe it won’t be till Thursday. Maybe, since days are meaningless right now, I won’t have any idea what day it is. But eventually, he’ll have the orgasm he so dearly wants.