I went upstairs for a nap; My (now ex-) wife followed after. She cradled in my arm, and on my chest. I felt triumphant. I fell asleep. The house was quiet. Our daughter was asleep in her room; she was 6. I sort of woke up, and C woke up, too. C rolled over, and we sort of spooned. I guess. It was so quiet. C handed me a book, THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS. I’d been reading it.

I’d had to go spend the night on the couch; sweating, etc. Not a good thing.

I’d spent the night on the couch, and C. my wife, invited me back, later.

I had a book, and read to her, myself, the house.

She felt wonderful, so sensual.

She initiated: she pulled down her dumb, dirty, pink, holey pajama bottoms and felt herself, and I made the effort to find, with the tip of my cock, the G-Spot I knew was there.

I slipped into her from behind.

She came, hard. Super hard. Not funny, hard. Like, a not-fake, never be able to lie about it. “AGH!”

Then she told me, “I have to take care of our child.”

She was done with me and my combat problems and my need for intimacy.

Oh well.