Author’s Note: Here is a short story that I hope you will enjoy. While it is based on true life experiences, as are all my stories, I have tried to keep it intentionally vague so that you, the reader, can imagine yourself and your spouse in the characters. I think those of us who are married can usually relate to experiences like the one described here. This is a celebration of those experiences that draw us close while we are far apart.
In addition, I know I am weaker when writing in the third person, so please bear with me if I come across as clumsy with my words and descriptions.
Finally, I must give credit where credit is due. The title of the story is a line from the song, “Like It Or Not” by Abandon Kansas. (I felt it fit the emotions of the story very well, much better than anything I could come up with. Thanks.)
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He opened the door to his hotel room. The air conditioner’s soft hum in the background was a welcome sound after the long flight. He shut and locked the door.
After pausing in front of the open curtains to drink in the sparkle of the city lights hundreds of feet below him, he turned his attention to the waiting bed.
He hadn’t bothered to turn the main lights on. Instead, he turned on the bathroom light and closed the door halfway, as was his custom. It made for a good night light; otherwise, he might wake in a panic in the middle of the night, not being able to see anything and not knowing where he was.
He sauntered achingly over to the beckoning queen-sized bed, slowly eased himself onto it, unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his dress shirt, and stretched himself across the bed, not even bothering to get underneath the covers.
The room was so quiet. He felt lonely, and the bed felt so empty. He slowly drifted off to sleep.
After an unknown amount of time had passed, he awoke with a start, feeling the empty mattress next to him. He missed her—his beautiful wife—the soft scent of her luxurious skin, and the comforting warmth of her touch.
He groped for his phone on the nightstand—2:23 AM.
He opened his Photos app, and then opened the Hidden folder. He tapped on one of his favorite photos of her—a picture of her fresh out of the shower, standing and posing as she held her towel open for him to see. Her breasts hung perfectly and perkily, and her blushing face was smiling coyly at him.
Wearily, but longingly, he shrugged out of his dress shirt, pulled his undershirt up to his collarbone, and began fingering and toying with his nipples the way she always had whenever she wanted to start something—mischievous little firecracker that she was!
He slowly closed his eyes and sighed. With his other hand, he began unzipping his pants, and squirmed free from them, the bed creaking with his efforts. His boxers came off next, his hands touching, roaming, exploring freely as he stared at the photo of her, his phone propped up against a particularly fluffy pillow.
Two time zones away, she lay in bed, the soft blue glow of the TV illuminating her topless form. She always slept like that, but it was so difficult to drift off when he was on these long trips for work. She had watched TV for a couple of hours after she had put their young children in bed for the night.
As she rearranged her sexy body in the bed, she wrapped her arms around his pillow with a sigh, buried her face in it, and inhaled deeply. The musky scent of his personal warmth mixing with the peppery spice of his favorite aftershave lotion, made her heart beat a little faster.
She tried to imagine he was there with her. She thought of the way it felt when he rolled over in the middle of the night and rubbed her bare back. Or the way his gentle kisses felt in her half-asleep state as he prayed over her before leaving for work in the morning, while it was still dark outside.
She sighed heavily and looked at her bedside alarm clock—12:24. It was after midnight now. He was two hours ahead of her where he was. That meant it was 2:24 in the morning, and he was most certainly sound asleep by now. She sighed again deeply, a lone tear slowly streaming down one of her lovely cheeks.
…Two thousand miles away, he was touching himself steadily now, well into his sexual plateau state. Sweat beaded on his brow as he looked at his treasured photo, focusing in on his wife’s lovely, perky boobs, and imagining she was touching them for him as he watched…
…Back at the home they shared, she had begun to massage her own breasts, hoping the feeling would help her relax through the natural stimulation of her own oxytocin. She felt herself suddenly start to lubricate down below, as the feeling of hands on her breasts brought back memories of the first time he had touched them.
Lost in her fantasies, she blindly reached down and groped herself with reckless abandon. She felt her panties and let her index finger slide under the elastic. She slowly, tantalizingly pulled the pink panties off and kicked, sending them flying across the room. She imagined she was playfully undressing for him, and pretty soon, three of her fingers were deep inside her own moist pussy, thoughts of his erect penis running wild through her mind…
…He began to feel himself reaching the point of no return now, his hand moving fast. He added his other hand to the action, “double-pumping the shotgun”, as his wife would say. He came with a soft moan, his fluids pattering onto the sheets as they landed all around him in the darkened room.
…miles away, she was squirming and twitching, her fingers still inside herself and her perky boobs jostling wildly as she rode the waves of her orgasm. After the wild waves of pleasure slowly receded, she rolled over onto her side. The last image in her mind before she drifted off to sleep was the sight of her husband’s kind eyes and loving smile.
…His breathing slowly became more steady. He kissed her image on the phone, pausing to take extra time to plant a kiss on each of her zoomed-in breasts, before locking his phone and placing it back on the nightstand.
They both slept soundly that night, each dreaming they were laying in each other’s arms.
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