I lay on my back staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazy circles, the sheets already cooling under my ass. Dave was still breathing hard beside me, with one arm draped across my stomach like it always ended up. Another Tuesday night special — missionary for five minutes, a bit of clumsy fingering, him grunting "You feel so good, babe" right before he came. Same script, different week. Twelve fucking years of this.I loved him. God, I did. Dave was the guy who remembered my coffee order, rubbed my feet after long shifts at the firm, and still looked at me like I hung the moon. But my pussy? It had checked out months ago. Maybe years."You okay?" he mumbled, already half-asleep."Yeah," I lied, kissing his forehead. But I wasn't okay inside. *I can't keep doing this.* Three nights later I finally said it.We were in the kitchen after dinner, wine glasses still half-full. Dave was loading the dishwasher like a responsible husband when I leaned against the counter and just blurted it o
Zuletzt aktualisiert : 2026-06-11 Mehr lesen