"Oh, Alyce, stop acting like an injured virgin," he said calmly trying to placate her.

"Don't speak to me like that. I won't have it. This is supposed to be lovemaking not that other…"

"Good Christ, will you be reasonable!" he shot out now completely exasperated.

"You be reasonable!" she snapped at him, furiously attempting to release herself from his pinioning embrace.

Eddie was rapidly becoming exasperated with her feeble objections and he found that the growing anger within him was dampening his ardor. His cock was still rigid, but the inner turmoil was taking its toll; he could feel the change taking place in him. Some flaccidity of his virile organ was already evident. He tried one more time to get things to a mutually happy solution.

"Come on, Alyce, honey… let's…" he began, awkwardly trying to apologize.

"You're not going to treat me like some whore you just picked up off the street," she fumed, twisting herself free of him, finally, and sitting upright on the edge of the bed.

"But, darling, we're married. What do you expect me to do, beat off, all the time?"

"I'm sure I don't care," she said coldly.

The rejected husband heaved himself up angrily from the bed, gathered up his tennis gear and plunged toward the bathroom, slamming the door hard behind him. He turned on the cold shower and jumped under it bathing his aching cock to ease the frustration of his incomplete sexual act. Then, he dressed, quickly, to go back to the tennis clinic. At least, he could throw himself into the group he would have at the one o'clock session, smashing backhands against the ball machine as fast as it threw them out. He seethed, inwardly, his anger mounting higher each moment.

Just thinking about the way his new wife constantly thwarted his attentions made him seethe.