The Silver Lining

My husband and I refuse to focus on the negative. Something good always comes out of a situation if you look hard enough. Hard being the operative word.

“Come to bed,” I whispered into my husband’s ear. He was sitting at his laptop watching Youtube videos about, of all things, board games.

“It’s a bit early,” he shrugged, glancing at the clock on the screen. “I’m not sleepy yet.”

He sounded bored. I was determined to fix that.

“Me either,” I told him, with all the promise I could muster in those two words. I leaned in and plucked at his earlobe with my lips, taking his hand off the mouse and leading it up under my top to my breast.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he noted, and already I could hear the change in his tone.

“Fancy that,” I said.

The bad situation we’ve been battling lately is depression. Out of the blue it hit my husband and the strong, confident man I fell in love with almost shrivelled up before my eyes. Fortunately, he sought help, and now he was on some medication to help bolster his moods and take the bark away from the black dog.

And it’s had an interesting side effect.

Keenly, we moved to the bed and began to re-explore each other with our fingers and lips, touching and caressing and urging each other forward.

When you’ve been with someone as long as we have you know, without waiting for instructions, which buttons to press. Within minutes we were both naked and hungry for our inner beasts to be fed. He slipped easily inside me and while he continued to work his tongue expertly around my nipples I began to move, at first gently but then with more urgency, towards that great, big burst of wonderful.

I ground myself into his groin just as hard as I could and he moved his hands from my breasts to my hips to help bring forth that wonderful, blissful, urgent release.

I kissed him fully on the lips and tugged playfully on his bottom lip.

“Your turn,” I told him, more for old time’s sake than with any expectation he was about to explode into me.

“I don’t think I can,” he said. He knew it was going to take a bit of work and this was his way of saying I didn’t need to unless I wanted to. If only he knew.

“Oh, we’ll get you there,” I told him.

This was the thing with his medication. He could get an erection just fine, but an orgasm was slower than dial up.

What was a girl to do?

“Let’s just see what we can do about that,” I told him. I sucked hard on his left nipple while I flicked his right one playfully and began to rhythmically move my hips again.

His cock was still as hard and impressive as ever. He moaned longingly. We both wanted his orgasm.

But there was no hurry.

“It’s not even bedtime yet,” I said, and when he tentatively tested to see if my nipples could stand some attention of their own yet I could feel the pressure building in me again.

Yep, I wouldn’t wish depression on anyone, but in any situation if you look long and very, very hard enough, you can usually find something to be thankful for.