Losing My Wife

So over the next six months I watched my love, my companion, turn into a shell of the person I fell in love with. She's still in there, and every once in a while she'd reappear. Stacy put on a good show out in public and around the rest of the family. But at home the truth was always there...

My lover, the woman that sighed at my touch, the woman that would reach over and grope me and even think about giving me a blow job while driving was gone. Once in a while she would make a remark that made me think that maybe, just maybe she was coming back to me...

I reached out to touch her, lightly stroking her cheek, letting my fingers trail down her cleavage now covered by her frilly top, remembering when I would have been stroking bare skin and rolling her nipple between my fingers...

Stacy's eyes came open, realized where my hands were, and got up out of bed in a hurry heading for the bathroom and her pile of clothes. "Morning dear, ready to hit the garden today? We have a lot of weeding to do..." rambling on as she hitched up her heavily padded bra, designed to hide and flatten those beauties, doing all she could to make them sag and get her nipples pointed to the floor. 'It's not appropriate for a woman my age to be seen with her nipples standing out,' she would say if I said anything about it, so a few years ago I quit saying it.

Hell, I'd settle for them just coming out to play every once in a while.

FUCKING MENOPAUSE!