When we climbed into bed I started to caress her, but she quickly stiffened and just lay there looking at the ceiling. In a huff I went downstairs to watch TV. After a while I decided to go to bed and give it another try by being extra loving and not so lustful. My bedside light was still on and she was laying on her right side facing away from me in the foetal position so I started to gently stroke her hair and neck. She didn't move away so seeing this as a good sign I stroked down her back and timidly onto her backside expecting her to snap at me any moment. When she still didn't react negatively I whispered in her ear that I wanted her. When she didn't respond I turned her head to face me and started trying to kiss her. There was no response other than a short snore. That's when I realized she was asleep and decided that there would be no sex for me again. After a few moments lying there feeling resentful and sorry for myself, I decided to jerk off rather than try get to sleep. Barking your head on the tops of the doorways.Add to that a cash flow like a sluggish stream, choked with sludge and silt, going in no discernible direction except perhaps directly downward. Home where the heart resides and all that. But it's damn near an homage to the former Soviet style of living. Almost but not quite. Not quite but close enough! At least there's no granny parked in a cot in the kitchen. Keeps me from charging down the streets in open revolt.So you wonder now, good lord, you live in a one bedroom dump, with just the one room that has a door that closes. Why does the kid sleep in there? Why do you and the lovely have the bed set up in the dining nook?Isn't it obvious? Mornings too rushed, evenings too exhausted, if you catch my drift. Sex is like payday: comes once a week if you're lucky, every other if you've got the wrong boss. Sure, there's that flush hour of exchange, greedy with delight, even better than a leisurely lunch. You cash that check, but by midweek it.
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