I did what any woman does when she wants more attention but is too chicken to ask for it outright. I flaunted myself in new lingerie, which heightened my arousal even as he barely seemed to notice. When he did, off to bed we went for our predictable ten minutes. Some kissing, some fondling then the hump and bump, followed by a roll over and snore. It was a good thing I didn’t need much stimulation to come, but my orgasms felt forced and unsatisfying. And too often, looking at him afterward as the semen rolled down my leg, I held in a scream. There has to be more to it than this?

I raised the threshold and went shopping again, wearing big, concealing sunglasses. It wouldn’t do for my gardening club to see me even as the idea of getting caught excited me. Public sex was also one of my newfound fantasies, with my husband of course. That was a really far-fetched dream given he still locked our bedroom door, even though there was no one left at home to walk in on us. I picked up even naughtier erotic wear from the sex shop. Funny how items we consider taboo can stimulate. The first time I wore crotchless panties and skimpy lace tops with holes cut out for the nipples to protrude, I blushed and creamed myself. I will admit, that particular get-up piqued Andrew’s interest. He fell on me passionately at first, but all too quickly he slowed things down and finished with his usual grunt. Argh, why couldn’t he have stayed out of control and rough?

I think that was when I decided the problem must lie with me. Andrew seemed quite happy with our sex life, so if I wasn’t, there had to be something wrong with me. Like any modern woman I turned to the Internet for help.