Irritation

In a marriage counselling session, maybe three years ago, my Wife opined that I wanted sex every day.
In the very early days of our relationship, when She asked how often I masturbated, I lied and said a couple of times a week – the reality was a couple of times a day.
Even now, as I subside into a slower middle age, it is an unusual day when I do not have at least a bit of a walk. [Ed: Why oh why oh why, if the technology we are all surrounded by is so damned clever, when AM types the word “walk” so often, why do spell checking algorithms STILL fail to accept he is a compulsive Walker and that he wants relentlessly, barely a day passing when he doesn’t have a bank.] [SuperEd: We apologise for that outburst by today’s editor. Rest assured she will be disciplined. Firmly. 😈] It is rare for me to wake without wood, and after decades of habitual masturbation, it is perhaps not surprising that my hand reliably and autonomously wraps itself around my erections … night or day.

Yet with marital sex being somewhat of an albatross, there are times when feeling horny can only be described as an irritation.

And so it is for the third consecutive morning.

My sexual sentry was stood to attention when I woke.
And I felt horny.
Actually, no. I felt really horny.
So horny, and with absolutely no chance whatsoever of assisted gratification, that my head just closed in.
It’s just fucking irritating.
I’ve not had a bank. [Ed: Arghhh!!!] wank, which probably makes it worse, but this kind of horniness is not conducive to pleasuring myself. Perhaps if I could avail myself of a cunt – not a partner as such – just her willingly offered cunt – I could fuck this irritating horniness away. And then, with a clearer head, I could get on with the day.
But no. I’m just horny and irritable.

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