We were both way too young to have been married. It seems we are almost roommates now, not lovers. Sometimes he is just so controlling, emotionally un...vailable, a slob.That bastard is cheating, too – well I do not have any proof, but I damn well suspect that he is. I have seen how that little slutty receptionist looks at him. How he is always "bumping" into the divorcee across the street.I can come up with ten thousand different ways that what I am doing is a lot less worse than what he is. They are my passionYou: sucking on ur nipplesStranger: oohhhYou: and licking them roughlyYou: whilst i still look into ur eyesYou: in the meantime i would have been putting my middle finger inside ur snatchYou: then i'd just go down, spread ur legs and start licking ur pussyStranger: Ahh amazing(;You: going deeply in and out with my fast moving toungueYou: each time you increase moaning, i'd increase my speedYou: until you just release your load in my mouthYou: then all i'd do is to start. I had also heard that, in the privacy of the single rooms, occasionally something more might take place, though this usually had nothing to do with money, it was more that the girl took a shine to the guy. I had ground and gyrated my body to the full satisfaction of the men concerned, but I had always drawn the line at taking my clothes off. And perversely it was my polite but firm refusal that seemed to drive the men, or at least the more frequent visitors, wild.It wasn't until I had been. “Bryan is your best friend, do you have no feelings towards him at all? Does this friendship mean nothing to you?” “Janet of course it means something to me. I can’t believe that you would even think that of me,” he rebuked. “So then why are you doing this?” I questioned. “Because life is short, you have to seize the day and live life. I’m sick of merely existing. I want to live. This failed marriage and what went down between April and I has taught me there that is a whole world out.