Chapter 9 : The Housewife

Why marriage kills sex?

I’ve meet and heard about those couples even if they weren’t married, but after living together for a while they all passed over sex.

Sex was forgotten like my grandmothers knitted jumper, covered with holes and dust.

Funny how we are searching intensely for the one who then becomes the one that we don’t want anymore. You become so familiar in bed with each other that creates an uncomfortable feeling of annoyance; each step becomes predictable, not only you turn into a father and a mother but actually a family that you hate!

A place where passion and lust fades under the routine of work, home-task, homework, dishes and groceries.

After 10 years of being together, I had this feeling that our sex life was going down the drain. It looked like a 15 minutes of “stick it in a hole” routine, sometimes lasted even less this is how uninterested we grow into it. So I thought maybe being more open with our intentions we could spice things up and bring the lust in our bedroom.

After I and Jérémie went to celebrate our anniversary at our local bar Mimosa, this is how lazy we became , even Olive Garden sounded much fancier.

Finally at home I opened the discussion about our sexual fantasies.

Since it was my idea I confessed first. Then of course I asked Jérémie about his sexual fantasies. And here was my partner’s response:

“Femme fatale. I want you to talk to me and be more provocative.”

“So you want me be dressed in latex, wear sharp high heels while I swirl a whip?”

“It’s not about what you wear its more about the attitude you present. I would like to see an extra initiative from you. In this way you can reveal more sex appeal to our rendezvous…”

“What? “, in that moment I wasn't listening of what he was saying. I didn't care. And I regret it now that I asked him about this subject, deeply regret it.

“You think I don’t have sex appeal?”

“I did not say that. What I said was that: I would like to see more sex appeal from you, not…”

“You and your smart talk, sounds the same to me!”

“Why are you getting angry? You asked me about my sexual fantasies, and now I share them with you. It is my fantasy not yours. Can’t you see how immature you get when I am telling you my personal preferences, I can’t be honest with you, darling.”

“Me, immature? Why you always treat me like I’m a child Jérémie?”

“Do not generalize it Leda. And I don’t treat you like a child. I’m sorry that you feel that way. On the other hand, if you feel like you’ve been treated like a child then perhaps you should reconsider your attitude and the way you behave. Here I can say that this it is not my problem, it is your responsibility to take the account of it and fix it."

That phrase was the pillar which fell down and started a fight between us, clearly our relationship has been rotting for some time.

A few weeks have passed and we both gave ourselves as punishment: the silent treatment. We haven’t spoke as much nor we had sex of course, until Monday.

I remember it was Monday because the house fill again with awkward silence.

Jérémie took the kids to school and then returned back home, he has been working from home lately because his office has been remodeling.

Meanwhile, I started on my morning kitchen routine . As I took a sniff at the Nutella jar before closing the lid an image of Religieuse chocolate present themselves on my clean table.

I knew what I had to do next, the craving was more intense than the Nutella jar.

I approached the hangers but only Jérémie’s black chef's apron was hangin out neatly. Mine apron was probably still in the basket. Lately I've been pretty tired of even putting clothes into the washer and I certainly didn't want to wear Jérémie’s.

Anyway I thought I will start without it. When searching thru the kitchen cabinets I spot a printed piece of cloth in the sealed packed. There it was the white ruffle apron with cherries on them. It was a present given by my mother since we moved in into our new apartment .

My mother and her taste in clothing. She always thought that I should dress like an American housewife from the 50’s.

I amused myself finally by trying it on.

And here was Jérémie, returning home and entering into the kitchen first, wondering what I was doing. He made it clear to me the fact that he had to work and did not want to be disturbed. His precocious attitude felt a bit odd to me, cause most of the times he never told me so specifically that he does not want to be bothered. Only when he had clients but even then. Maybe he have clients?

I didn’t want to ask him, quite frankly at that point I didn’t care.

Anyway as he left I started on my baking routine. And at some point I got stuck. I didn’t know exactly if I had to prepare the cream first, it’s been quite sometime since I backed. On the top of my head I remembered that Jérémie told me about a trick to this recipe and how to keep the Religieuse fresh.

So at that point I thought maybe I will live my pride aside and ask him for his advice.

I rushed in to the hallway and forgot to knock, opening the door speedily.

He startled when I walked in, as he probably didn't expect the door to be unlocked.

 I found him on his computer watching porn and of course celebrating Palm Sunday.

He was so happy that he could wank oneself, he even forgot to lock the door behind him.

His shocked expression revealed an altercation to me, as if he wanted to yell: “ Why didn’t you knock?”

And in my own head I wrangled at him: “Why didn’t I knock?!”.

As I was having an imaginary quarrel with him, I still was standing by the door trying to figure it out how to penalize him.

 Why the fuck he preferred to jerk off while I was in the house?

Why all this time he didn’t even want to apologize to me, or at least try to seduce me in having sex with me and not with himself?!

I was so angry at what he was doing, probably for a long time with his passive-aggressive attitude.

In that moment, right in front of my eyes an imaginary screensaver appeared written with large italic letters: Femme Fatale.

And here was the “Aha” moment for me.

I redirected my anger into a sexual revenge: “Hah! You want your Femme Fatale I will give you your Femme Fatale.”

In a seductive voice I approached him while closing the door behind me.

“So, what are you watching?”

I pressed on the keyboard and resumed the clip.

“Hmm very nice, I can see you are enjoying this movie. Let me help you with that.”

His face dropped. I could tell by his reaction: feeling a little bit more guilty than angry, as I got closer to his meat puppet…it was a good start.

I smoothly grabbed it and started moving across his shaft.

“Yes you like that don’t you?”

He wanted to close his laptop. I didn’t let him.

“Don’t close it. I want to watch it as well, I really like your choice of… cinematography.“

While I was masturbating him I started to get hot myself. This dirty talk really helped me redirect my state.

At some point I licked my palm inch by inch in such a manner that he can spot how much I enjoyed the taste of his penis left on my hand.

I caught his attention perfectly. He was mine and his reaction to my action made me turn on even more.

I then got up, gradually.

“Now, keep watching the movie and don’t turn your head around. It’s an order, sit.”, I smirked at him, I liked my tone of voice and so did he.

Behind his back I undressed myself completely from my boring cotton clothes and my apron. However I felt like I was too naked for this scenario. I wanted to be dressed more seductively. Wearing more likely a uniform, so I could impersonate perfectly the authority I have over him.

Anyway, I was too far from the bedroom were I kept my box of goodies. I took my cherry apron back, wearing nothing beneath it.

I slowly returned to him and grazed his shoulder with my nails.

He looked eager to be punished, excited by my improvisation.

With a straight face, I allured Jérémie with a hint of a smile on my lips:

“Are you ready for your cherry pie?”

He nodded and replied in a begging tone:

“Yes please, I would really like to taste it.”

How ridiculous was my perception in all of these years towards sex talk. Now I finally understand what is the purpose of having it.

It’s like you play a role and it makes perfect sense.

I didn’t laugh or felt like an idiot of what I was saying.

I got to the point of what makes us in having great sex. Is not about the clothing nor about our genitals. It is about the attitude that we present to our partner, it’s all up here in our head.

Lightly I climbed on him while he was still sited in his office chair and then firmly I started ridding him.

My dearest husband constantly was staring at me.

I wanted to keep this game of domination flowing, therefore I grabbed him by his jaw and with a poise tone I pronounced:

“Don’t look at me, look at them”. I then turn his head towards the movie.

He could not resist after a while and begin to take a peek at my tits bouncing and desperately trying to escape from my apron.

Suddenly the porn wasn’t in his interest anymore.

“Taste them. I know you want to … Come on, lick... them.”

Once he was allowed, he grabbed my breasts and started really going. Then greedily sucked my nipples, gently biting them at the end.

It was so strange that I was experiencing a different pleasure: a sexual one.

My brain was sending signals directly into my clitoris. This nurturing organ became my erogenous zone.

The odens is that I didn’t had the same feeling when I was breast-feeding.

What a relief to know that I am not a weirdo.

Yet it was amazing how my mind was redirecting and creating a totally different reaction.

I have been so caught up in this though that I took notice how I was drowning my own sexual drive and losing my stamina.

So I pushed on the Femme Fatale button again and reappeared in to the office room.

I looked over at Jérémie enjoying my breasts, sighing of excitement.

For that reason I wanted to interrupt his activity and draw his attention back to me.

I grabbed the back of his hair firmly with my right hand and pulled his head up, disassembling him from his favorite toys.

“You had enough. Now, I want you to look into my eyes and only into my eyes.“

He glanced at the monitor once more, probably to see my reaction . No you don’t. I punished his naughty behavior and added while squeezing his hair more tight:

“Leave those two to fuck alone.”

My sexual revenge was not yet over. I began to move my fanny more diligently entering deeper as I used my stinging look to my lover. I glide my abdomen softly to his and pressed my hands on his shoulders.

Smiling with my eyes intensely, I managed to trigger Jérémie’s vocal part.

He closed his eyes for a second and gasped with pleasure, whispering to me in his sensual dialect:

“Oh baise-moi Leda, baise-moi...”