Zayne sat on the couch, reading a medical journal about innovative cardiac procedures, completely absorbed.
*This new technique for valve replacement is fascinating. The approach angle could reduce recovery time by—*
Something hit his leg.
Soft. Small. Moving.
He glanced down.
Nana.
Rolled up like a sushi roll on the floor.
Rolling.
Deliberately rolling into his leg.
*What is she—why is she—*
"Hamster, what are you doing?"
She said nothing.
Just rolled away.
Then rolled back.
Hit his leg again.
*She's... rolling. On the floor. Into me. This is a communication method now.*
He returned to his journal.
*Probably just bored. She'll stop. She'll—*
THUMP.
She rolled into the coffee table leg.
"Ow."
Still rolling.
THUMP.
Couch leg this time.
*She's rolling into furniture now. This is escalating.*
He tried to focus on his reading.
*New approach to mitral valve repair using—*
She rolled into his leg again.
Harder this time.
*Ignore. She's seeking attention. Don't reinforce behavior. She'll—*
She disappeared.
He glanced up.
Gone.
*Where did she—*
Through the window, he saw movement in the backyard.
Nana.
Chasing a butterfly.
Hands outstretched, running in zigzags, completely focused on the insect.
*She's chasing butterflies now. This is fine. This is normal for her.*
He returned to his journal.
Five minutes later, the door burst open.
Nana stood there.
Dirt on her hands. Dirt on her knees. Dirt on her face.
Tears in her eyes.
"I FELL!" she announced dramatically. "Chasing Mr. Butterfly! The ground attacked me!"
*The ground attacked her. The ground is now an enemy.*
"Are you hurt?" he asked, setting down his journal with a sigh.
"My hands hurt! And my dignity!"
*Dignity. She has dignity to lose. Interesting claim.*
"Come here, I'll clean—"
But she was already gone again.
Out the back door.
*Where is she going now. What is—*
He waited.
Three minutes passed.
She returned.
Leaves in her hair. Small twigs tangled in the strands. Dirt smudges still present.
"The squirrels said you're being mean," she announced. "Mr. Fluffytail specifically said husbands should pay attention to wives."
*The squirrels. The squirrels are relationship counselors now.*
Zayne finally understood.
*She wants attention. She's been rolling. Chasing butterflies. Consulting squirrels. All because she wants attention.*
*And I've been reading. Ignoring her. After last night. After we—*
*Oh.*
*OH.*
*She wants attention. THAT kind of attention.*
He set down his journal completely.
"Come here, hamster."
She approached cautiously, still covered in outdoor debris.
He pulled her into his lap, gently picking leaves and twigs from her hair.
"You could have just asked," he said softly.
"Asked for what?"
*Really? We're playing this game?*
"For attention. For—" *how do I say this clinically* "—for intimacy. For what we did last night."
Her face turned bright red.
"I—I don't know how to ask for that! It's embarrassing!"
*So instead you roll like sushi and chase butterflies. Obviously. That's less embarrassing.*
"It's not embarrassing. We're married. It's normal to want—"
"But YOU were reading! You looked busy! I didn't want to interrupt!"
*So she rolled into my leg repeatedly. That's not interrupting apparently.*
"Hamster," he said, cupping her face gently. "You can always interrupt me. Especially for that. Always."
"Really?"
"Really."
She bit her lip, looking shy suddenly.
*There's something else. She wants something specific.*
"What is it?" he asked.
"I want—" she whispered, "—I want sunflower again. But—but differently?"
*Differently. Oh no. What did she see. What did Mina tell her. What—*
"Differently how?"
"In the drama—" *OF COURSE IT'S FROM A DRAMA* "—the woman was sitting on the man. Like—like sitting on his lap but—but sunflower was inside while sitting. Can we—can we do that?"
*She wants to ride me. My wife wants to learn to ride me. She's asking me to teach her.*
*I'm going to die. This is how I die. Death by shy wife asking to try new positions.*
But also—
*I've imagined this. Multiple times. Many times. Her on top. In control. Moving. Her body. Her—*
*Yes. Absolutely yes. Immediately yes.*
"We can do that," he said, voice already rough. "I can teach you."
"Really?!" Her face lit up. "You'll teach me? Educational riding?"
*EDUCATIONAL RIDING. SHE CALLED IT EDUCATIONAL RIDING.*
"Yes," he managed. "Educational. Very educational."
He'd cleaned her up first—washing her hands, her knees, her face, removing all evidence of outdoor adventures.
Now she sat in his lap, nervous and excited.
*This is happening. I'm about to teach my wife to ride me. On our couch. In the living room. This is real life.*
"First," he said, trying to maintain some semblance of control, "we need to prepare you. Like last night. You're sore, so we need to be careful."
"Okay!" She nodded seriously, like receiving medical instructions.
*Which technically she is. Medical-sexual instructions. From her doctor husband. This is my life.*
He kissed her—slow and deep, trying to ease her nerves, trying to build arousal.
*Need her ready. Need her wanting this. Need—*
His hand slid down, between her legs, finding her already warm.
*Good. She's been thinking about this. Wanting this.*
One finger slid inside.
She whimpered, shifting.
"Still sore?" he asked.
"A little. But—but good sore? Want-more sore?"
*Want-more sore. New medical terminology.*
He added a second finger, moving carefully, preparing her.
*She's tighter than yesterday. Probably swollen from last night. Need to be gentle. Need to—*
"Okay," he said after a few minutes. "Ready to try?"
She nodded eagerly.
He helped her position—removing necessary clothing, lifting her slightly.
*This is it. She's going to—*
"Guide yourself down," he instructed. "Slowly. You control the pace. Stop if it hurts."
She reached down, positioning him at her entrance.
*Oh god. She's—*
She started to sink down.
Slowly.
So slowly.
*Tight. So tight. Even after last night. So—*
"Oh!" She gasped. "It—it feels different! More deep? Like—like it's reaching different places?"
*Gravity. Angle. Different penetration depth. All true. But I can't form words because—*
He groaned as she sank lower.
Inch by inch.
*This is torture. Beautiful torture. She's so small. So tight. So—*
"Zayne?" She paused halfway. "You're making sounds. Good sounds?"
"Very good sounds," he managed. "Keep going. You're doing perfect."
She sank lower.
*Oh god oh god oh god—*
Fully seated now.
Completely.
All of him inside her.
While she sat in his lap, looking down at him with wide eyes.
*She's on top. My wife is on top. This is—*
"It's so FULL!" she gasped. "Like—like more than yesterday? How is it more?"
"Angle," he explained, hands gripping her hips—small hips, perfect hips, his hands almost spanning her entire waist. "Gravity. Deeper penetration. You're—you're taking all of me."
"ALL of you?" She looked down, where they were joined. "That's so much! Where does it even—"
*Don't think about anatomy. Don't explain. Just feel. Just—*
"Move," he instructed. "Up and down. Slowly. I'll guide you."
His hands on her hips, he helped her lift slightly.
Then sink back down.
*Oh god. This is—*
She moaned—loud and unrestrained.
"THAT—that feels—do that again—"
He guided her up and down again.
Establishing rhythm.
Showing her the motion.
*She's learning. She's—*
Then she started moving on her own.
Finding her own rhythm.
Her own pace.
*She's—oh god she's—*
He couldn't help it.
His hands tightened on her hips—on her waist—she was so small he could almost wrap his hands completely around, lifting her easily, guiding her movements.
*Perfect. She's perfect. This is—*
"Zayne!" She was panting now. "What—what do you feel? Tell me! I feel so full and so good and—and I want to know what you feel!"
*What do I feel. She wants me to explain while she's riding me. While I'm dying. While—*
"You feel—" he groaned, "—incredible. Tight. Wet. Perfect. You're perfect. This is—oh god—you're killing me."
"Killing you?! Should I stop?!"
"NO!" He gripped her harder. "Don't stop. Never stop. I mean—I mean you feel so good I can't think. Can't breathe. Just—just keep moving. Just—"
She was moving faster now, more confident, more—
*She's getting close. I can feel it. Feel her tightening. Feel—*
"Zayne!" She sobbed. "Something's—something's happening—like yesterday but—but MORE—"
"Let it happen," he urged. "Just let go. I've got you. Let—"
She came.
Crying out his name, body shaking, clenching around him so tight he couldn't hold back.
He followed, pulling her down hard, burying himself deep, coming inside her while she trembled in his arms.
*Mine. All mine. Perfect. She's—*
They stayed like that for a moment, both breathing hard, both trembling.
Then she looked at him with those wide eyes.
"That was—that was so good. Can we—"
She shifted slightly and—
*Oh no. Oh no I'm still—*
"Sunflower is still awake!" She looked delighted. "It's still big! Can we—can we do it again?!"
*Again. She wants round two. Right now. I'm still inside her and she wants—*
*My wife. My insatiable wife.*
"Bedroom," he managed, standing while still inside her, making her squeal. "Round two. Bed. Now."
They'd made it to the bedroom.
Barely.
Now she lay beneath him, flushed and beautiful, while he moved inside her again.
*Round two. We're doing round two. This is—*
*This is my life now. Active sex life with enthusiastic wife. This is amazing.*
"I like sunflower so much!" she gasped between moans. "So much! Can we do this every day?!"
*Every day. She wants every day. I'm going to die. But what a way to go.*
"We can do this—" he groaned, "—whenever you want. However you want. Any position you want. Just—just ask. Always ask."
"Really?! Even the other positions from dramas?!"
*Other positions. From dramas. She's been studying. Planning. My wife has a list.*
"Yes," he agreed, too far gone to care. "All of them. Everything. Anything. Just—oh god—"
He was close again.
*Already. So soon. But she's—she's perfect. She's—*
"Zayne!" She cried out, coming again, pulling him with her.
*Together. We came together. This is—*
*Perfect.*
*Everything is perfect.*
ZAYNE'S INTERNAL MONOLOGUE - 6:47 PM (POST-COITAL)
Medical log - Day 185:
CRITICAL STATUS UPDATE.
Wife wanted attention.
Wife rolled like sushi instead of asking (Nana logic).
Wife chased butterflies (outdoor chaos).
Wife consulted squirrels (relationship advicefrom rodents).
Finally understood what she wanted (intimacy).
Wife asked to try new position (riding).
Taught her (EDUCATIONAL).
She learned fast (TOO FAST).
Had sex on couch (round one).
Carried her to bedroom while still inside (round two).
Both rounds successful (VERYsuccessful).
Wife declared she likes sunflower "so much" (noted).
Wife wants to do this every day (EVERY DAY).
Wife has list of positions from dramas (oh god).
Current status: In bed. Wife asleep on chest. Both naked. Both satisfied. Both happy.
Observations:
My previously virgin wife is now enthusiastically non-virgin wife.
She went from shy to "can we try this position?" in 24 hours.
She's insatiable.
She wants it every day.
She has a LIST.
I've created a monster.
A beautiful, perfect, position-requesting monster.
But also:
She's comfortable now. Completely comfortable.
No more fear. No more pain. Just pleasure. Just wanting.
She asks for what she wants.
She's confident.
She's—
She's perfect.
And she's mine.
Completely mine.
My sushi-rolling, butterfly-chasing, squirrel-consulting, position-learning, sunflower-loving wife.
This is my life.
And it's AMAZING.
Prescription for tomorrow:
- Let her rest (she's definitely sore)
- Maybe gentle activities (if she insists)
- Probably more sex (she'll want it)
- Definitely teach new positions (she has a list)
- Love her constantly (always)
- Thank universe repeatedly (deserved)
She rolled into my leg to get attention.
Instead of just asking.
That's so Nana.
So perfectly, chaotically Nana.
And I love her.
Every ridiculous part.
Every rolling, chasing, climbing part.
Every curious, eager, learning part.
All of it.
She likes sunflower "so much."
She told me. Mid-sex. Just announced it.
My wife announced her appreciation for my anatomy during intercourse.
This is normal now.
This is my normal.
And I love it.
All of it.
Even the sushi rolling.
Especially the sushi rolling.
.
.
.
.
.
🌻🌻🌻
To be continued.