Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek behind doors left slightly ajar. This week, the Married Woman Breaking Her No-PDA Rule: Female, Artist/Photographer, West Village, 42, straight, married.
DAY ONE
6 a.m. It’s too early to be awake, let alone thinking about sex, but apparently my husband is both awake and horny. He’s pressing himself against me so I can feel how hard he is and all I want to do is sleep. I halfheartedly pretend to be asleep, even though after eighteen years together, he knows when I’m really sleeping and when I’m not.
6:37 a.m.: He has to get up soon and I don’t want to start our week off weirdly after such a relaxing weekend, so I reach back and start to give him a hand-job. But instead of letting me touch him, he takes my hand and puts it back at my side. “Just let me rub against you,” he whispers. Okay, that’s easy. And wouldn’t you know, while I’m supposed to be just lying there and letting him get his morning wood on, I get turned on.
6:43 a.m. “I want to,” I say. He knows what I mean and this time I don’t let him stop me. Maybe he can tell that I’ve now woken up enough to mean it, but I roll over and climb on top of him and pretty much take control. We don’t talk — I’m still too tired for that — but we don’t really need to. We both know we don’t have much time. His eyes are closed, but I look right at his face as I touch myself until I come. He knows that’s his cue and comes inside me. I fall back asleep and he gets up to head to his law office.
9:40 a.m. Take extra-long shower, which I never do when he’s around cause I’ll get a lecture on the environment. I know, I know, but sometimes you just need to that warmth, even during the summer. Times like this I’m grateful I make my own hours.
2:30 p.m. The downside of working for yourself is that you have no set hours. Sometimes I envy my husband even though I can’t imagine getting up so early or having to stay late like he often does.
10:15 p.m. He finally gets home and neither of us are in the mood to do more than cuddle. He falls asleep in his clothes.
DAY TWO
11:15 a.m. I got a second wind and wound up working until 3 in the morning and crawled into bed next to him and didn’t even hear him get up. I wake up to him calling to make sure I get up and to say good morning. He’s the more mushy and romantic and likes to say hello in the morning and goodnight at night. He’s not a super cheesy guy in general, so I like that this is our silly little ritual.
8 p.m. Been waiting for him to get home to order food but get so hungry I eat some leftover lasagna. Try not too eat too much; he likes for us to eat together and even though I hate when he has to work late, I don’t want to take it out on him. I appreciate that he works so hard to support me in what I do.
9:10 p.m. He’s finally home, with takeout Chinese food. I wish he’d told me he was picking it up, but I’m hungry and happy to see him. We both shamelessly attack our food and eat too fast.
9:30 p.m. We sit on the couch and talk about our days. Both were relatively boring. We go through our Netflix queue, which features my foreign films and his horror films and a few mutual picks. Wind up with season three of Californication, which I’ve mostly lost interest in, but he wants to see. He gives me a foot massage that turns into a backrub but nothing more. Lazy night.
DAY THREE
1:30 p.m. Hubby’s 40th birthday is coming up in two weeks, but we’ll be inundated with family. Plus I like to do the unexpected. He doesn’t have a lot of sexual fantasies — the top one is seeing me with another woman, but while I’m happy to talk about it and even get into the fantasy version, in real life I wouldn’t be comfortable. He knows that and has never pushed me, which I appreciate. I decide to surprise him tonight, when he’ll truly be surprised. I prepare an outfit that’s something I’d never wear. I’m more of a “jean and bra showing through my basic white shirt” type, but I found a tight, low-cut black dress that, with a push-up bra, makes me look like I’ve got more curves than I really do. I also got Wolford fishnets and five-inch shiny black heels and the brightest red lipstick I could find. Even I barely recognize myself once I pile my hair on top of my head and vamp in the mirror. I take it all off and soak in the tub with a bath bomb.
7 p.m. I head to his office downtown in my get-up, though I keep the heels in my bag until I’m a block away. He’s waiting for me. I smile when I catch him look me over, then keep scanning. Up close there’s no way he won’t know it’s me, and that would be a little creepy if I really tried to seduce him as someone else, but I like that after all this time I can still surprise him. I keep walking and when I’m in front of him I give him my sexiest wink. “Oh my God,” he says. “What’s going on?” “Just a little birthday present,” I tell him.
7:30 p.m. Contrary to his initial impression, I’m not taking him to a strip club or anything. Just sushi at Yama Sushi on Carmine, where we went on one of our first dates. Neither of us is big on pomp and circumstance when it comes to eating. Mostly I just want to be seen with him looking like this. He holds me steady while we walk to flag a cab. I can tell he’s impressed.
8:15 p.m. He keeps watching me extremely intently. It’s partly hot and partly a little creepy. I like being dressed up, but am not used to him or anyone else staring at me or commenting. When I went to the bathroom a guy tried to give me his number. I told hubby and he smiled. Maybe men have some kind of pissing contest going on over each other’s women. “Stop looking at me,” I say, and we both laugh. He keeps touching my knee under the table, and I don’t mind when his continued fiddling with my fishnets leads to him ripping one. It would’ve been hotter at home but I like that he can’t stop touching me (we are not usually PDA types unless lots of alcohol is involved).
9:15 p.m. We don’t linger over our meal. We rush home in a cab, even though we’d normally walk, and again I break my no-PDA rule and also my seat-belt rule and straddle him. I keep my clothes on because I think it’s rude to the driver to get naked in a cab. When we get home, he tears my fishnets to shreds and we do it on the floor in the hallway, with me on top. At one point, we roll over and I discover it’s not that comfortable to fuck on a hardwood floor, but I’m so turned on I don’t really mind. When we’re done he has to carry me into the bedroom; I think I’d have slept on the floor.
DAY FOUR
5:40 a.m. I wake up first for a change, after a hot dream about me all dressed up like I was last night, sans panties but in thigh-high fishnets sitting on his face. I don’t have the outfit but we can act out the rest of it. I give him little kisses to wake him up and he grunts at me. While I’m waking him up I decide today would be a good day to play hooky. I know he has plenty of days off he can take. I lick his ear and start to tell him about my dream. It’s kind of funny to hear him being grouchy when that’s usually my role, but, once in a while, I wake up raring to go.
6 a.m. The alarm goes off and I let it blare for a few beeps to make sure he’s awake. Then I tell him my dream again, this time taking off his boxers and holding his cock firmly to get my point across. “It wasn’t in my dream, but we can 69.” I don’t ask him again because he’s never turned down a blowjob before. I just shift myself so I’m straddling his face and start to go down on him. He gets into the swing of it soon enough and it’s better than my dream. He’s ready to come in five minutes. I swallow, then take my time, enjoying thirty minutes of great head.
6:40 a.m. While he’s still sex-happy, I spring my plan on him: Spa Castle. Our options for swimming are his family in Jersey or our friends with kids on Long Island, but I just want alone time with him and to cool off. He doesn’t take much convincing.
12:30 p.m. We finally arrive and are in our very ugly official garb, with bathing suits underneath. I know extreme heat is heading our way, but weekdays here are less crowded, and I like the feeling of getting away with something by skipping work. We try out all the saunas, and I wonder what it’d be like to have sex in a sauna; probably too hot to be comfortable, but fun to think about.
7 p.m. We’ve managed to spend all day frolicking in the sun. If we were somewhere more secluded or at a spa in Manhattan I’d have dragged us off to a hotel for a quickie but we’re so far out in Queens that’s not really feasible. Finally we head home and even though I’m a little sunburned I’m still horny.
8:35 p.m. He wants to take another shower, and I want to attack him. We settle on a mutual shower, even though it’s not my favorite sex locale. We try to do it standing up but I keep feeling like I’m going to fall, so we make the shower short and then get in bed. He’s definitely a meat and potatoes guy when it comes to sex; he’s not into wild positions or bondage or anything. I’m a little more out there but we have a happy medium. He bends me over the bed and we do it doggy-style while I tell him about my sauna fantasy.
DAY FIVE
7:15 a.m. I get up in time to kiss him goodbye, and what I’d intended as a quick “see you later” kiss turns into him pressing me up against the door and kissing me for a good five minutes. “What’s gotten into you?” I ask, even though I like it. We kiss, obviously, during sex, but rarely do we just go all out in the make-out department. If he had time I’d have a quickie right now, but I like that he has to head off to the subway with a hard-on.
7:22 a.m. As soon as he’s gone, I race back to bed, totally awake and aroused. I text him once to tell him what I’m doing — you know — but decide that a total play-by-play of everything I’m thinking about him would be too mean. I can always tell him later. I think about us doing it right up against the door, him banging on it so our neighbors can hear.
6 p.m. We meet at a friend’s apartment for drinks. When I get there, I see him talking to a woman who for some reason I don’t like. At all. We’re nominally friends, but every time I see her I get this feeling that she’s trying to steal my husband, or at least flirt with him. I’ve told him this, but he says it’s just my imagination. Even if that’s true, I think by default he should keep his distance, if only to appease me.
6:10 p.m. I pour a stiff vodka tonic and mingle for a few minutes; if I storm over there I’ll look like a total bitch. Which maybe I am, but I don’t care. After a little mingling and drinking, I’m calmer. I walk over to them as casually as I can and put my arm around him. I put on the fakest smile I can and listen to them talk. When I can’t stand it any more, which is only about two minutes later, I let my hand shift down to his ass. He twitches, as if he wants me to move it, but I keep it there until he finally stops talking to the witch.
11:20 p.m. In bed after dinner, I ask him if he thinks the witch is hot. He knows he’s screwed no matter what he says. I go down on him but keep pausing to ask if he wishes she were blowing him. He finally gets annoyed and tells me to stop talking.
DAY SIX
10:30 a.m. I finally wake up and shiver because it’s actually pretty cold in our bedroom. He sees that my nipples have perked up. I don’t tell him it’s more because of the cold than him, especially when he starts sucking them. He keeps up with that, then starts touching me. My first inclination is to try to touch him, but he tells me to relax and when I finally do, he keeps it up until I come.
11 a.m. We cancel our dinner plans with friends; maybe I’m being a baby but I just don’t feel like going outside.
Noon I’m back in bed after coffee and cereal. I’m cranky for no real reason. He goes to the gym.
3:30 p.m. Hubby returns home with ice cream. He comes to bed with a tray, the pint, and a spoon, and feeds it to me. He knows the way to my heart. He wisely doesn’t try to join me in bed but goes off and amuses himself.
5 p.m. I’m finally out of my funk. We decide to go to see Horrible Bosses.
8:30 p.m. Home after a quick drink. I can tell he’s in the mood but I’m still a little out of it, so I curl up with a book and let him play video games. There’s always tomorrow.
DAY SEVEN
9:30 a.m. I let him sleep and go catch up on some work but keep thinking about him in bed under the covers. He’s a grown man but somehow wrapped up in our blanket naked, he reminds me of a much younger one. I start to imagine myself as a cougar and can’t focus on work. Maybe my libido skipped a day or something, but I’m suddenly super hot for him.
10:45 a.m. I try to steer my mind toward more important things but finally give up and go back to our room, where he’s still cocooned in the blanket. I usually share my fantasies and he does too, but this time I keep it to myself and imagine I’m a professor seducing her young, innocent student, slipping into his dorm room. He’s not a virgin, but he’s pretty inexperienced, and I teach him a lesson. That makes me come three times to his one. He doesn’t seem to mind. I ponder that little fantasy for the rest of the day.
TOTALS: 1 very steamy kiss; 1 sexy disguise; 1 blowjob; 1 act of 69; 1 manual stimulation with nipple sucking; 1 cougar fantasy; 4 acts of intercourse.
Would you like to take part in the glorious tradition that is the New York Magazine sex diaries? Just send an e-mail to [email protected] with your contact information and why you think you’d make a good diarist. If you’ve got what it takes, we’ll be in touch!
