We had sex last night. She and I. To a familiar pattern. Too familiar. The last time it was lust-filled, clothes-ripping, up-against-the-table, cum-so-hard-it-hurts was the months after we found out each had been having an affair. That was years ago. Now we're back in the routine, the rut. It's pleasurable, but not exciting. She doesn't like me to go down on her and She won't give me head. But worse still, She doesn't really like kissing (I've not got time to explain this one now). So She doesn't kiss well. I used to think it was me, but after more than 30 (call me Nick Clegg...on second thoughts, don't) liaisons I know it isn't me.
Not all of my liaisons have been paid ones (enter Bardot stage left) but they all drew from the full spectrum of sexual activity and emotion. Some moments are forever seared on my memory (enter Bardot stage right); virtual pinups in my little tree house brain to call upon as and when.
I wonder whether She and I will ever experience that high again. Maybe I should come clean and tell Her about my dalliances. That might re-awaken Her. I'm not being serious. After so many years though I don't know what to do. Maybe nothing. Just accept what we are and keep visiting other more lust-filled beds.
