Growing Into Adolescence

My better half and I have been off the grid for a few days. First she caught some forty-eight hour bug, then kindly passed it along to me. With long-term chastity (apart from no sex), most of the time her mind isn’t on romance. Whenever I’m not fully absorbed in something else, mine is. Sometimes even when I am focused. On Monday evening we attended our monthly village board gathering. We took seats in the back row, meaning nobody at the meeting could spot us, apart from the board members themselves. The view of my sweetie’s legs sticking out from beneath her shorts was too tempting. The endless droning about water samples and legal chats with the village attorney regarding nuisance properties naturally pulled me toward arousal. So there in the community hall I began stroking my wife’s legs. She kept swatting at my hand, telling me to pay attention. And I was paying attention; she is far more captivating than whether our town decides to join a rural government association. She noted that the board could see us from the back even if the rest of the villagers couldn’t. She felt embarrassed, and I might well scandalize one or two board members as well. (I’m not sure there’s an actual rule against touching your wife during a village meeting, but Beth acted like there was.) If anyone did notice, it seemed more interesting than whatever they were discussing. They kept droning on about the library committee; I wasn’t bored at all since my thoughts remained fixed on those legs. I doubt I recall even one-tenth of what was said. All that sticks in my mind are her legs. James. No O since June 18: Fifty-one days and a wake-up.