My Ascetic Husband, a Snake in Disguise
I suspected my husband was a detached ascetic.
Every night, he'd skip to the backyard, muttering prayers under the stars instead of sharing our bed. When I slipped into something slinky, he'd frown and clutch his prayer beads like a lifeline.
Now I was done with the cold shoulder, slapping a divorce agreement in his hands.
That was when his thoughts started leaking into my head. "She touched me. Her hands are like silk. I'm dying to kiss her. When is she gonna be okay with me being a snake? I just want to cuddle her."
"A snake?" I thought. "Does that mean he's packing two things? I have to find out."
I leered at his chiseled frame, practically drooling. Before divorcing, I needed to test his things and my limits.
I tripped purposefully and fell onto his toned pecs, ready to test the waters.
"Whoops!" I gasped, setting the stage.