By Paulo Coelho
Linda understands she's lucky.
Yet each morning while she opens her eyes to a so-called new day, she appears like ultimate them again.
Her pals suggest medication.
But Linda desires to suppose extra, now not less.
And so she embarks on an experience as unforeseen because it is bold, and which reawakens a facet of her that she - decent spouse, loving mom, bold journalist - suggestion had disappeared.
Even she cannot are expecting what's going to ensue next...
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I haven’t felt this happy in a long time. I feel better and better, braver, freer. Then I do something I’ve dreamed of doing since I was in school. Kneeling down, I unzip his fly and wrap my mouth around his penis. He grabs my hair and controls the rhythm of my head. He comes in less than a minute. ” I say nothing. The fact is that it was far better for me than for him, since he came so quickly. SIN is followed by a fear of being caught. On the way to the office, I buy a toothbrush and some toothpaste.
Perhaps my husband has already met someone else and I’m unconsciously responding to that. And yet I have absolutely no reason to suspect him. Isn’t this absurd? Can it be that of all the men in the world, I have married the only one who is absolutely perfect? He doesn’t drink or go out at night, and he never spends a day alone with his friends. The family is his entire life. It would be a dream if it weren’t a nightmare. Because I have to reciprocate. Then I realize that words like “optimism” and “hope,” which appear in all those self-help books that claim they’ll make us more confident and better able to cope with life, are just that: words.
I can fake orgasms—I often have—but I can’t just decide to get wet with excitement. I would have to say that I’m really tired, and he, never for one moment admitting that he was annoyed, would give me a kiss, turn over, and watch the latest news on his tablet, waiting until the next day. And then I would hope against hope that when the next day comes, he’d be tired. Very tired. It’s not always like that, though. Sometimes I have to take the initiative. If I reject him two nights in a row, he might go looking for a mistress, and I really don’t want to lose him.
Adultery by Paulo Coelho