It happens… it might not be an pretty as sex when you are young and slim, or as frequent… but I like to think that perhaps, if the right imagination and planning were in place, it is more than possible to make up for that lack of quantity with enhancements in quality.
But it takes planning. When age starts creeping up on us, sex becomes a lot of logistics. It is like a vacation or perhaps more accurately, a nice meal out. You need to make reservations, decide what to wear and hope you don’t suffer from some sort of intestinal upset or other malady that would detract from your dining experience. And perhaps it would be wise to forgo a meal or two immediately prior… just to insure you are sufficiently hungry to eat everything upon your plate.
Sex is like that. Spontaneity can and sometimes does happen. Just like grabbing that fast food on the way home or binging on a bag of M&Ms, it satisfies the sudden impulse but it interferes with the healthier dining choice. But when ones diet consists solely of chips, chocolate and pastry, one starts to crave something more… something of a finer and perhaps more nutritious nature…
But when one is owned, and owned by control freak, a control freak that is particularly controlling around sex (and now that one thinks about it… food), and a control freak that avoids planning or commitments… a control freak that prefers predictability to imagination… one that made one really good plan and sticks to it invariably… well, this piece of property gets tired of going to the same restaurant every freaking Friday night and one gets even more tired of getting fucked at the same time, same place, same way every freaking Saturday morning…
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