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When we met I had no idea. You were charming and polite, sweet and caring and thats probably why I married you. Lord knows it wasn't for the talent (or lack thereof), in the bedroom. I tried to convince myself for years that with patience and practice, you'd get better, improve your "skills" and hit the spot. Well darling, someone needs to draw you a map because you've not managed to find it as of yet. I'm a sexual person and I have needs. Many, many "needs." I understand its not a lack of trying, but more lack of equipment. I just don't look at you and see "manly" at all. I know how you envy the men you watch me have mind-bending sex with, and you aspire to be like them. It's good to have goals in life. Let me tell you a secret: IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN. They know how to please me, make me feel like you NEVER have. Don't misunderstand, you are fantastic to have there for turning down the bed, lighting the candles, handing me the bottles of lube so his huge cock won't tear me in half, and even picking up the dirty towels when we are finished. I can give credit where credit is due. You are wonderful at cleaning my pussy and ensuring that you get every last drop of his deposit. We do our best to make you feel a part of whats going on. That should show how much I appreciate all that you do, and so do they. We find it amusing to catch you jerking off while we are enjoying each other. I've often considered asking you to join, but THAT would be mean now wouldn't it? Putting you in the same bed with a real man would be pointless and silly. How could you ever measure up (pun intended!) to such a stud when even the size of the cigarette I smoke, after being with each and every one, puts you totally to shame? |
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