Chapter 10 Chapter Ten The reason why I didn't tell you about the orgasm is because you weren't there at the time

I was riding on my husband like a jockey on a wild horse, bouncing back and forth violently. It's a Sunday afternoon, the two kids are at the movies, the vet hospital closes at one o'clock, and we're "bonding" and trying to rekindle our enthusiasm. I avoided Roy's mouth, which was full of beer and food residue, and gave him an insincere kiss. I suddenly remembered the sweet past, when we were just excited, we could indulge in an afternoon. The unchanging movements have almost caused skin inflammation. I stepped off the mount and was put into this position and then adjusted into another like a robot.This is not foreplay at all, it has become a shed show, a waste of my time spent waxing and removing leg hair.

I snorted in annoyance, but Roy apparently mistook it for a moan of passion and began to rub.He may think his actions are sensational, but I feel like a wet shower curtain sticking to my body.There is no way to stop these reactions, as if the orthopedic surgeon knocked your knee and your foot will automatically turn up, there is no way to hide it. God!what have i becomeClam shells?Do all couples go through this useless, useless fiddling and rummaging until either they or their partner passes out?He held on for a second or two, then licked his fingers to help lubricate them. At this moment, I suddenly realized that I was really hopeless.Let's make it quick!I wet my fingers and start scratching his prostate - a bedtime shortcut known to many wives who have no time and are fed up with their lewd husbands.Roy hiccups quickly and comes happily.

He went to take a shower, and our bed only smelled of "this kind of contact is meaningless", not the musky smell of men and women after love written in romance. Roy casually wrapped himself in a large towel, and walked back to the room with bare feet.He opened the door to the hallway, and a German shepherd with stitches on his body jumped onto the bunk, chewing on my brand-new leopard-print slippers in its foaming mouth. "Enough!" I heard the growl, and then realized it was me.My emotions whirled like the lid of a jam jar dropping on a flagstone floor. "Roy, after all these years of marriage, I don't know why you didn't realize that I actually hate animals."

"Hey, come on, Kathy." Roy in the towel loincloth caresses the large, bared, panting dog astride me. "It just wants to play with you. Come down, Satan!" "Satan!? German Shepherds are called Hitler, Adolf, Eva Tian, ​​or Satan in a nutshell to hide the fact that they're not fun at all, aren't they? What about an animal with a face!" "No! Satan is actually a very sought-after dog. He was trained to recognize newspapers. He only urinates in the book review section of the New York Times. And he only hugs his legs in Armani trousers. He's a very high-end dog! ’ he happily dressed.

"Even your patients don't have sex with my legs, they just hide behind my couch and do these nasty things. If you were a real doctor and not a veterinarian, this wouldn't happen at all!" His messy hair hanging over his forehead obscures his expression, but I think I beat him to the punch. "In veterinary science, no one is inferior," his voice tensed. "Looks like my patient has to learn to avoid you, Kathy. How could that be?" He scratched the big dog's drooling jaw. "How can you not love animals?" He lost his haughty expression again. "Oh, I love animals so long as they come with the sauce."

"What's the matter with you recently?" "My wedding vows didn't include having to remove hairballs." I got out of bed and put on my jeans. "I mean, the house is dirty enough because of your blindness to all sorts of things in the house!" "Hey, Kathy," he sighed, "why do you always fuss over little things like this?" "Because big problems are always caused by small things, Roy, the reality of life is very complicated." "But I think you're paranoid, almost every time I see you, you're scrubbing the bathroom floor."

"My God! You think I like to scrub the bathroom floor? That's because you consider it mentally abusive every time I ask you to throw your underwear in the laundry basket." I sighed melodramatically and started tidying up the bedroom. Roy suddenly intercepted, pulled me over to face him, cupped my face in his big palms, and said with a smile, "But, Casey, that's why I love you, you're so capable!" Anger rushed up, with the force of a submarine rushing out of the water. "What's the use of talking but not doing? Action is the most important thing!" I broke free and continued tidying up the bedroom angrily. "Think about it, the toast I baked for you may spread out to more than a few hundred acres. Just the leg of lamb baked for you on Sunday dinner, there are several flocks of sheep. Fried for you to eat Fish, the North Sea fish is almost extinct. Hannah's three meals are cooked by Pascal, and he can grill salmon! Do you hear me? I wish someone grilled salmon for me, damn it!"

Roy grabbed my hand. "Stop patting the pillow, okay?" "Ah! God! I hate it," I roared, "I hate it when I tidy up the house and give you a lesson and you can listen to me and still refuse to lift a finger to help. I also have a full-time job! Did you even notice?" "But you girls can multitask. Women have 10 percent more neural connections between the left and right brain than men, and men can only focus on one thing at a time. When I use a mallet, the doorbell rings, I hit my thumb .I can't help it, it's a genetic problem, we are not born with enough." He smiled smugly, thinking that he had escaped.

"Really? I bet you'll be able to use your mind at once whenever there's a carnival." Roy followed me and watched me smash drawers, kick dogs, and stuff clothes into cupboards. "As long as you don't keep asking people to come to the house, there won't be so many housework," Lowy challenged me with an academic tone. "One is the witch's cauldron, the other is the Swiss cheese pot." "You're the most antisocial person in the world, you know? 'Ah! We can't go out tonight, we only went out last October...' Now it's March! The question is, what are we doing staying home ? Definitely not sex anyway."

"What does that mean?" Half moons of sweat started to form under his armpits. "I'll give you a new idea, Casey, sometimes you can take the initiative and try something different. Couples sometimes switch places, you know." "Of course I know. Okay! We'll change seats, you do the dishes, and I'll fart on the couch and watch a football game. Believe me, a husband who is drunk and paralyzed in front of a loud TV is absolutely Not ideal foreplay in a woman's mind - you don't care anyway, and you don't seem to notice that I haven't had an orgasm in over a year!"

He looked surprised. "what!?" "You're a surgeon, you've got a good hand, you can make a makeshift float for a toilet sink out of a plastic bottle and a coat hanger in less than five minutes, but you haven't been able to find me yet The G-spot! Every real estate ad tells you, LOCATION! LOCATION! LOCATION MOST IMPORTANT! This is the G-spot!" "And you're only telling me now?" Roy gave me an aggrieved look like a tortured animal. "How long have we been married?" "A sensitive man should have noticed long ago. He doesn't need to be told. But... ha! As long as you are happy, you turn around and sleep soundly, just like a caveman!" "Hey, I told you I'd go and sleep in the operating room if I snore." He slumped against my dresser in confusion. "Roy, you snore so loud I can't hear it unless I'm sleeping in Norway." I started attacking the mattress. "But of course you don't want to. The only thing we've talked about lately is how little we talk." "Actually, you know, I can also talk about my feelings, for example, how boring it is to be asked to tell my feelings all day long!" He looked at me angrily, and stood up abruptly. "I mean, what do you want me to be? An actress?" "No, I'm just too...too...too tired of having to live with a Neanderthal. Why don't you go out there and kill a bison with your bare hands and get those fucking big man stuff out of your system Let it out completely?" "Hey, if it weren't for us big men, humans would still be eating the guts of big bears, tigers, or lions! I mean, what the hell are you trying to advise me to do?" loose the temper. "Go find a cave to hibernate before you start another fight?" "You started the quarrel, not me." "Look at us! Kathy, we're arguing about what the hell we're arguing about. What's wrong with us?" "We need help, Lowy, and that's the point of my message." We looked at each other in silence for almost an eternity, although according to the clock records, it was only twenty-seven seconds before and after, and then my husband's eyes suddenly narrowed with understanding. "Do you know who you look like - Jesmy!" He grabbed my shoulder and shook. "Who are you? Where did you hide my wife?" "I know you hate Jess. Haven't liked her for a long time. Tell me, is she the one you hate the most of all my girl friends?" "I don't hate her, it's just that she seems to be camped out in the gender jungle, trying to defend her little country, a bit like the Japanese soldiers who hid in the jungles of Borneo in World War II, maybe poking their heads out occasionally Look, but no one ever told them the wars were over, and wars between men and women were long over." "The gender war is not over yet. It's just a skirmish for the main campaign. I tested the theory scientifically and it turned out..." "I think your so-called scientific method should be asking your female friends while drinking a cappuccino." "Okay! That's right. The point is, Lowy, if we were on the same plane, we'd be judged to be in an imminent crash." "You should know it's not my fault. For a long time, all I got from you was either cold shoulders or hot tongues. You only scolded me, but never supported me." "Lucky guy because the only tongue I got was in my shoe." "Hey...if you wouldn't be so eager to castrate me, I'd be more confident in bed. I mean, how could you beat my major like that? I was the youngest student in my class back then, and I'm more Finish your studies faster!" "Roy, you're a little too quick for a lot of other things." My husband looked at me resentfully like a kicked dog. "I'd love to apologize," he quipped, "but the testosterone contract obviously forbids me from admitting defeat." "Indeed, I wonder if this contract includes a husband resettlement plan?" "What are you trying to say?" he pressed. "Has the bond of our marriage expired?" "If this marriage was your beloved animal, you would have euthanized it long ago. In my opinion, we've reached the stage of divorce, or 'wanting another couple willing to have unlimited fun.'" Roy took a step back reflexively, judging from his expression, it seemed that I had just pulled the pin on the grenade, and if I threw it at him, he would be smashed to pieces. On the clock, the luminous second hand ticks in suffocating silence. "Looks like you really lost your orgasm! My God! What the hell is wrong with us? We used to be like rabbits all day long." I shrugged. "Our marriage has myxoma!"

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