"He likes to think he’s in control. He always wants to be “in charge.” Which is fine by me. That’s what I want him to think.
Whenever life threatens to get in between us, when he’s so busy at work that he’s too tired to love me in the evenings, I know I have to take matters into my own hands.
But I have to be discreet. I want him, but I can’t let him know how much. I want him to want me.
And I always get what I want. So which of us is really in control?"
When he gets home from work, he’s always too tired to fool around. You’d think at his age he’d be tearing off his pants at the mere hint of s*x, but he spends long days on construction sites doing God knows what, and it wears him out. Most of the time he comes home, shucks off his clothes, and hops in the shower while I make dinner. If he has a bad day, he’ll talk about it. Otherwise he only grunts when I ask him anything. The evenings usually wind down with us cuddling in front of the TV. Sometimes I manage to ease down the zipper of his jeans and slip my fingers into his fly during a commercial break, but I can’t push too far. Fondling’s as far as I get before he’ll catch my wrist and tell me, “Come on, hon. You know I’m worn out.” He’s tired, I know, and he has to get up early in the
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