Five Years Later
I stand in the bathroom with my hands pressed to the shower glass. It's fogged up, but not so much that I can't see my wife inside. Naked and dripping wet and five months pregnant. As she rinses the shampoo from her hair, suds run down her swollen t**s in rivulets, over the swell of her belly, vanishing into the folds of her perfect p***y below.
My d**k is hard as nails, obviously. Swear to Christ, I've had an erection for five straight years. This girl who I married has me horny twenty-four-seven, three-sixty-five. I'm tormented with lust from the moment I wake up beside her supple, inviting body until I fall asleep, exhausted from reminding her who she belongs to.
We're inseparable. Where she goes, I go. Where I go, she goes.
That's written in stone. The commandment
