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Just two weeks ago, I couldn’t even get her to touch me. To say the passion my wife once had for sex had faded would be an understatement. She was a woman like no woman I have ever met. At least in the beginning. When we first got together, if I wanted my cock sucked, she bobbed at the chance. If I wanted my balls sniffed, a ball sniffer she would be. If I wanted to fuck her and cum deep inside of her, then she would be walking around with enough hot cum inside of her that a gay porn star would be jealous. Hell, if I got off to her licking a toilet seat, she’d do that too. And that was with her not totally being open about her own desires. It was amazing. Sex had been a vital reason, perhaps the vital reason, in us hitting it off in the first place. We both enjoyed it, immensely. And with that sexual connection, a true bond was formed. Lust turned into love. And the love-making always turned back to lust. It was a vicious, beautiful cycle. But lately, for the past few weeks, months. It was too much like every romance movie Meg Ryan ever made. We both broke into huge smiles as we turned to each other.Tina had curled up against the door; she looked fragile, like a blown-glass ornament. Seeing her almost cowering there, so tiny, I felt like a gorilla. My smile faded.She reached out a hand, fingers splayed. It hovered a foot away from my face. "What's wrong?"I started to answer, but I didn't have a clue. I just shook my head abruptly. "I better be getting you back to the hotel. They'll be worrying about you."Tina reached into her coat and pulled out a cellphone smaller than my Aunt Ida's earrings. She flipped it open and held it up so I could read the goblin-green glowing screen: six messages. "They've been calling every 20 minutes," she said, and she laid down a trilling laugh. Even as she did, I heard a whirring like angry wasps trapped in a wall. Tina tossed the vibrating phone into the cavernous back seat. "Let 'em worry. I'm having a good time."She slid a.
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