I sit and wait for him in our usual corner of the hotel bar, wondering about the orgasms he'll give me tonight. Will there be a long buildup to something super deep and satisfying? Or will we get straight to the fast, pulsating releases he knows I love?
My eyes stay low, intentionally avoiding the heavy diamond on my left finger. When he shows up, he breathes a sweet "hello" into the back of my neck. Ugh, if only this happened more often than twice a month...if only he were my husband.
Until recently, I took my vows seriously. My husband has been "it" for me since we met in college. There weren't crazy sparks, but he was my first boyfriend—my first everything—and he was persistent. So when he proposed two weeks before I graduated, I said yes.
Five years later, we have two toddlers and a terribly vanilla, one-sided sex life. Foreplay, experimentation, throw-me-against-the-wall passion? There is none. And the kicker: He's never gone down on me. Not once.
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