I used to live with a sex addict.Sex was her answer to all of life's problems. That and taking showers. I was not allowed to talk to her during the week, Monday through Thursday. Not in the morning, not at night. That is unless she wanted sex. But on Friday I would come home from work and she would be sitting at the kitchen talbe in her bra and panties drinking a beer. We would then go up to her room and she would close the door. The door wouldn't open until Sunday night when she would kick me out.
Oh, and another thing. She dressed in all black. She didn't have a colored piece of clothing in her closet. All black. Her room was painted flat black (Charcoal I think was the designer colour), the carpet was dark grey. There were black satin sheets on the bed. We would have sex and go to sleep and then wake up on Friday morning and go at it again. She would send out for lunch on Saturday. Sometimes on Saturday night we would go out dancing. I would dress up in a tux, she would be in a little black knit dress.
On Sunday she would cook for me, we would lounge around and watch football and have sex. Sunday night she would make me leave and I wouldn't be able to speak to her until the next Friday. It was fun for about a year but then it started to get old. I longed for some normalcy in my life. I moved out. For a while she would come around to my apartment at two or three in the morning for sex. That got old too. I later met someone straight and married her. That lasted eleven good years.
:: Tom 3:47 PM [+] ::
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