“That new oatmilk I bought is terrible,” my spouse said. “Why? What’s wrong with it?” I asked. “I had some–I thought it was fine oatmilk!” “It’s way too thick and chunky.” “Oh! I like it! I guess…because I’m used to swallowing thick and chunky fluids!” We laughed. We were in the bedroom, and he was
“Hmm, I’m going to stab you with an almond,” I told him. We were in the car, and he was driving us to a small park nearby. “You can’t stab me with an almond!” he said. “Sure I can! It’s pointy. Look.” “No, you can’t.” “Here, I do it!” Stab, stab gently on his forearm.
Kissing his balls is my favorite thing to do, lately. Not sure why they’re so appealing to me, now. Soft, vulnerable, they smell good, a pleasure on my lips and my face. He seems to enjoy it also. I’ve been with him for eight and a half years. You’d think I’d have noticed his balls,