Dear Husband, I Wish…

Dear Husband,

When did you stop complimenting me?

I’d wish you come home and hug me. Say, “Babe, you look so beautiful today. I’m such a lucky guy.”

Admire my ass in yoga pants, ogle my breasts in a low-cut top.
“Come over here with that hot butt,” you’d whisper and pat your lap.

I’d wish you’d still try to cop a feel now and then. Or glance at my undies and wink suggestively. “Wanna show me?”

I’d stop being bashful and start being sexual.

When did you stop seeing me as a woman?

And just a friend or roommate.
Not in the remotest way desirable in your eyes.

I’d wish you’d press yourself against me from behind while I was at the kitchen sink. Then, maybe run your mouth and tongue over my ears while you distract me from doing dishes.

“Oh! You are making me nuts!” I’d say. “Stop it!”
“Do you really want me to stop?” you’d say.
“Noooo. Please don’t,” I’d plead.
“I’ll make you beg, baby.”

Hell, yeah. That.

When did you get the Madonna complex?

I’d wish you stop thinking of me as a mom and more of a slut.

“Tell me you love to suck me,” you’d command. “Swallow it all the way.  You know you love it.”

“Yes, I do!” I’d sputter.

I’d get so wet for you if you called me nasty names. Pretend I’m your sexy slave.

Don’t call me sweetie in bed. Don’t use baby talk. Don’t be too gentle. Don’t make me do all the work.

I want to be dominated and ravaged.

When did you forget to look at me?

I’d wish you’d play rough with me in bed. Really slap my ass like you mean it.

Make me climax explosively from your words and touch.

Tie me up, goddammit. Or hold me down. Have your way with me. Make me writhe in pleasure. “Don’t you move, baby girl; I got you. You aren’t going anywhere for a while. Time to please, daddy.”

I’d whimper and do precisely what you want.

When did you stop caring about my pleasure?

I’d wish that you’d hear me when I say I want to try new things.

I’d want my body used. Deliciously used.

You’d never let me forget, either.

I’d remember. Believe me, I would know how much you enjoyed my body.

I wish I didn’t have to have an affair in order to get my fix. My “I wish” list. Except it’s the only way I’ll get what I need.

You don’t listen to what I want.

But my lover does. He’s damn good at listening and fucking. I don’t have a wish list with him. We have hit almost every single one of my desires.

So, if you want to stop your wife from having an affair, think about what she would write to you in a “Dear, husband” letter.