I now wanted anal all the time, not just occasionally when I was in the mood, and also not that slow ‘I’ll be careful’ anal, but the hard ‘Fuc... me fiercely with your balls whacking off my cunt!’ type of anal. Adrian was of course loving all this, his normally demure wife a complete slut, he never questioned why I had changed, when a desire, a fetish, daydream, a fantasy of his arose from our early history. Before we’d married, he loved to watch me masturbate whilst he jerked off, he’d taught me. . I dunno man-boy to me. The shit I used to think was confidence now seems like lazyness, his bravado seems like dim-wittedness. I know he hasnt changed. Its the same him, the same shit, but Im different now. It feels dissonant, frightening. Like I thought I knew what I wanted, and it wore a leather jacket and smelled like engine-oil and booze, and rode motorcycles with a devil-may-care attitude, and bent me over those motorcycles and fucked me with that same devil-may-care attitude. But now it. More

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