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I never get tired of looking at him.

Seven years of life together and he just keeps getting hotter. I know the fire is meant to go out at some point, domestic monotony should dull the flame. But it hasn’t. I stare at him each day with the same hunger, the same almost-schoolgirl crush. He’s older, he’s grown a beard, he’s grown into his body, there are flecks of what might soon be grey in his hair. And I want him. Every day. In his boxers, in his sports gear, in his pyjamas. I hide my endless adoration sometimes because it feels almost silly to still get this worked up watching a man load the dishwasher perfectly. I just can’t help it.

I love how he takes care of his body and appearance even though it’s only me that gets to appreciate it these days. I do the same. I don’t want the honeymoon to ever end, we can be real with each other while also making an effort.

This morning I woke up and he was already working, sat in the chair in the corner of the bedroom that catches the morning light. He was glowing. He didn’t notice me stirring, too busy catching up on emails. I tell him he shouldn’t work first thing in the morning, before breakfast, but I admire his drive and ambition. Fuck, I wanted him.

I was squirming in my rumpled sheet, taking him in as I slowly woke up. I love his arms, strong, veined, the way I could see all the muscles in his forearm as he leant his chin on his hand. My legs squeezed together under the duvet, my cunt was calling to me. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, I didn’t even want to blink. My gaze followed the curve of his leg. I wanted to see him naked. I found myself annoyed that he was wearing clothes in the bedroom at all. The thought of him unclothed made me wet, my thighs tingled as they touched each other. I trailed my hand down to caress them over the duvet, pressing down as if to quiet them. But it just made me want to touch myself properly. I looked straight at him, so lost in concentration, as I ran my palm along my body under the sheets. I traced my fingertips along my stomach, down my leg, teasing myself. They finally reached my pussy, rubbing my sensitive lips slowly, working myself up.

He still hadn’t noticed the effect he was having from across the room, while doing absolutely nothing. His brow furrowed as he read something, just as my clit finally got the touch it needed. I let out a tiny gasp, keeping myself quiet but wishing him to look up.

I need you, I signalled to him telepathically. Please, I want you.

Turns out he isn’t totally psychic, much to my frustration, but it didn’t stop me from trying again. I licked my finger and pulled aside the silk of my nightgown, exposing my breast. My nipple hardened as my wet finger circled and teased it. I grabbed the whole tit, hard.