My wife Megan and I celebrated our thirtieth wedding anniversary quietly, as always. We were already living comfortably together in our large house. We had sex once a week, usually on weekends, always in the same position, always with the same ending. Megan would come first, and I would come a few minutes later. Then we would lie there hugging each other silently. We both felt something was missing, but we didn’t say anything.
Then we got drunk and really relaxed. We were having a great time, and it was easy for us. We laughed and remembered different moments in our lives. And then my wife suddenly asked if I remembered how, in our youth, we used to fantasize about other people having sex or about watching others do it.
I froze then. And indeed, I remembered it. It was in the first years of marriage. We would whisper dirty stories to each other before sex. And how we then fell silent bashfully when Megan gave birth. So, we reminisced about these stories and felt so good. I asked my wife if she wanted to try it. She nodded. We laughed and kissed together.
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