Pussy juice and cream were everywhere. On my face, in my hair. And between her legs. "Looks like you are backing up," she giggled. "You've got more to...do now than when you started." She walked in the other room and I heard the refrigerator open. A few seconds later, I heard the front door open and close. I got up and stretched my tired body. This was getting old. How long would I have to do this? I had other things I needed to do. But she had me over a barrel, so to speak. I couldn't run the. I deeply regretted selling the house in Tiburon because I would have surely gone there. I doubt very much that separation would have shocked her into change, and divorce would have inevitably followed. I find myself wondering if that might have been best. But such thinking is futile. I did sell the house. I did stay in Cambridge. And we did stay together, if peculiarly. My life become one of memory and fantasy. Memories of days, nights, experiences, with Julie and Anne, and other women, some of. More

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