Catch Me When I Fall

"Ready for me to come, babe?" Ricky grunted, on top of her, hungrily grabbing her breasts. Thank God, "Come for me." Karla cooed in his ear. Letting out a series of grunts and groans while he released inside of her, Karla kissed his neck, "Good boy," before she bit him slightly. "Ah," Ricky sucked in air through his teeth before pulling away from Karla. "You know I don't like it when you bite my neck, it doesn't get me off or do anything for me." He rolled off her, panting in the bed next to her. "I like it," Karla mumbled, looking at Ricky, already back on his phone. She sighed slightly, careful not to be too audible, lest she be met with harsh words. "I'm going to the restroom." "Okay," Ricky's one-worded response carried, delayed by the distraction of the screen. Fat bastard, She scowled to herself, folding her arms tightly across her bare chest as she sat down on the toilet. She wasn't particularly fond of having s*x, having already been six years into their marriage. Ricky was a virgin when they met, and Karla taught him how to please her just as she liked. Though the same thing after six years, it was starting to get a bit boring and was more of a chore than a treat. Introducing a new position from time to time, Ricky wasn't interested in being too adventurous while making love. s*x was getting all too predictable; she would start on her back, and they would switch for a while if Karla was interested in reaching orgasm while she was on top. Otherwise, she would just let Ricky f**k her how he liked on top of her until he reached his peak. Sighing at the thought, she dropped her head slightly. "You done yet? I have to piss." He walked into the bathroom before he picked up a garment off the floor, wiping himself off. "Did you have to use my shirt?" "Oh, sorry," he glanced down, shrugging slightly before dropping it back onto the floor. "If it's on the floor, it's dirty, right? I'll do laundry tomorrow." "Thank you, I appreciate you being willing to do the laundry for us," Karla said, rubbing her eyes. A canned response straight from the couple's therapy book she was reading, upon the suggestion of her psychiatrist. Ricky outright refusing to seek couples therapy with Karla, making her play wife, mother, and therapist in her own marriage. "I'm going to game with the blokes," Ricky stated. "I thought we were going to bed? I have an early morning tomorrow," Karla looked over at him, still standing in the doorway of the bathroom as she washed her face before bed. "I don't have to get up early. Why does it matter when I go to bed?" He shrugged, eyes not leaving his phone as his thumbs tapped the screen. Karla's jaw tightened slightly, "Yeah, I guess it doesn't, you're right," as she kept her voice pleasant, not having the energy to start an argument this late in the night. She was learning to pick her battles with this man, who was easily thrown into a tantrum over what Karla thought were the mildest of inconveniences. Jobless asshole, she thought. "C'mon, Kar, I told you I have to piss; can you get out of the bathroom?" Ricky looked up at her, annoyed. "Right, sorry. I love y-" The door had practically slammed in her face before she could even finish saying goodnight. Her shoulders slumped, feeling absolutely insignificant. She worked more than full-time, had a second freelance job as a writer online that she did on her lunch breaks to keep ahead of the bills, then came home just to cook and clean while Ricky played computer or console games with his friends. She had paid off his student loans while he got back on his feet after losing his previous job. This put her in debt in the process. Struggling to pay rent, utilities, and the tens of thousands of credit card debt she was constantly incurring as she robbed Peter to pay Paul each month. Peter, the poor bastard, hardly ever got paid back. Ricky was an avid collector of sports cards, selling a few here and there online for a few hundred dollars. Money that she, or Peter, would never see a cent of as Ricky spent it on himself. At times, he threw the occasional $50 at Karla to "help" with the bills. He was currently trying his hand at being a streamer online to bring in an income doing something he enjoyed. Though he wasn't as charismatic as Ricky thought he was, only amassing a few thousand viewers and subscribers on his channel on the occasions he would actually livestream. "It must be hard work to eat crisps, drink soda, and sit on your ass all day." Karla had started an argument one evening after returning from work late one evening. No dinner was cooked as she was promised, dirty dishes were in the sink, and laundry was cleaned, but unfolded in the hamper still. "Maybe if you spent more time at home, I would want to help you out around the house," Ricky had yelled at her. "I'm in pain all the time; you wouldn't know what it's like with my shoulder pain." "If you would just go to the PT appointments I set for you, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't be in so much pain, asshole." "Whatever, you're just going to leave me anyway because I'm such a big fat loser," he would immediately turn into the victim when the argument wasn't in his favor. The rest of Karla's night would be spent playing damage control and reassuring Ricky she wasn't leaving. "I didn't mean it, hun, I'm just stressed out because of money." Though on the outside she was apologetic and consoling, on the inside she was rolling her eyes and frustrated. She had half a mind to strangle the pathetic man in front of her, the man who had taken so much and given so little. She was stuck, like a mouse in a glue trap; helpless, unsure how to break free of the situation she had found herself in for years.