I never thought that at 60 years old, my life would only truly begin. My husband Colby, and I were together for forty years. He has always been my support. But he had a severe stroke three years ago, followed by heart and prostate problems. The doctors said physical intimacy was now impossible for him. Pills and injections weren’t helping. Colby lay in our bedroom looking at me with guilty eyes.
I cried for a very long time at first. And then I realized I was still alive. My body, which I’d hidden for forty years under robes and old dresses, suddenly began to demand its own. I’m sixty, but I don’t want to lie in the same bed with a man in silence. And then we talked. It was a very honest conversation.
I felt so sorry for my husband that I cried. Colby took my hands in his trembling ones and told me he loved me and didn’t want me to suffer. He himself said that if I needed men for sex, he would agree to it. I know he’s always loved me, and even now, in this situation, he thinks about what’s best for me. That’s what we decided. No affairs, no feelings. Just the body. Just pleasure.
First, I took care of myself. I signed up for a gym, although at first I was a little embarrassed. My trainer was a young woman who worked out diligently with me, and we even became friends. I began to feel much better and more confident.
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