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2 or 3 days after my (41M) wife (42F) left this earth...the ground started to rumble and tumble beneath my bed. I became a man on a mission.
I felt plenty of guilt on top of the normal guilt because I was never, ever, anything that remotely resembled sexually adventurous with my wife. We were together for 10 years and didn't have sex for 7 of them, which was my own doing. I'm not proud. I was just scared. I think the last time I was inside a woman was the Obama administration.
After she died, though? My own dick slapped my face and told me to wake the fuck up. "You should fuck a lot," he opined. "Righty-o, old friend," I obliged.
So here I am, hornier than a 12 year old waiting outside the changing rooms for his mom. Completely vanilla up until the worst day of my life, and now needing to make up for lost time. I spend most days in a fog, dreaming of your delicious pussy. I'm also now bolder than I have ever been in my life. Last week I was on the phone with a more or less stranger and blurted out, "we should have sex!"
And you know what?
I give zero fucks.
Say hi. Send a face pic. I want to lavish you with attention.
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- 1 year ago
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