I can't believe sometimes that Dee and I survived sixteen years without sharing this feeling together - that for so many years we went on pretending that not having it really didn't matter. I have married friends still going through the motions, and I can see as obviously as if they wore signs proclaiming their emptiness that this brand of exhilaration is totally absent in their lives. My heart bleeds for them in particular when I feel that I should be on some kind of crusade preaching that a good marriage, a strong marriage, a loving marriage does, and in no small part, depend on good sex.
This planet would be much happier if sex was for all of us what it's supposed to be - refreshing, rejuvenating, energizing - able to touch us in ways that nothing else can and all of us need.
When Dee lies back, raises her legs and invites me inside
her God's in His heaven and all's right with the world in
ways that Browning's innocent Pippa hadn't imagined.
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