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“You really want to be touched now?” my wife Lauren asked me from her side of our bed. The hard-on tenting my shorts collapsed. “I guess not,” I said and turned away from her. I picked up the thriller The Terror of Living from my nightstand. I opened it, but I didn’t read. That day, Lauren had come home read
Let me be the first to tell you that I am not an eye-cream fanatic. At the age of 31 and with fine lines creeping their away around my gaze, I know I probably should be a fanatic, but I just can't get into it. Sure, I'll slap one on at night if I remember, but half the time I look at the tubs and jars lining my medicine read