And then I seize my moment, and pull him closer, and whisper, “Just one? You losing your touch?”
He slams into me so hard I see stars.
“Does it feel like I’m losing my touch?”
I don’t answer.
I can’t.
I’m already coming and forming words isn’t possible.
Besides, having my husband still fuck me like I’m his half-million-dollar virgin prize is the best feeling in the world.
And I hope it never ends.