Our relationship began as an extramarital affair in our late 30s. It wasn’t the first affair for either of us, but it would be the last.
What began as a lust-driven urge, developed and deepened as we realised we had found in each other the love of our lives. Within three years we were man and wife, meaning we could – and did – enjoy each other at any time, day or night. Our love-making was driven by love and lust in equal measure and was frequent and spontaneous.
And so it continued as the years advanced; we were even caught “at it” in our 70s by someone who probably thought we were past that sort of thing. How wrong they were.
As we approached our 80s, the deterioration of our bodies ate away at the enjoyment and spontaneity of sex. There was the short wait while lubricant was applied and the magic blue pill took effect. Then came physical discomfort, due to inevitable wear and tear, which made sex difficult, unrelaxed and barely enjoyable.
The desire to give each other the ultimate pleasurable experience was replaced by the desire not to cause pain.
It was like a mini-bereavement when we finally agreed the time had come to stop altogether. Now, we choose to fall back on the memories of how exciting, beautiful and meaningful the sexual side of our marriage was, for so many years. Still, we enjoy an enduring devotion that no amount of physical limitation or discomfort can diminish.
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