Is it odd that 90% of my sexual fantasies involve my wife? That seems like some kind of unnamed disorder to me. Not that you can’t fit a lot of bodies into the non-wife 10% (and sometimes they won’t fit), but seeing her so sexually uninhibited just makes me more sexually uninhibited (and there’s probably a psychological name for that too). I walk down the street shooting molecules off my skin, and the women grin, knowing what I’m up to. Everywhere I look I see happy endings.

Do I mind that my wife let herself be manipulated to a happy ending by a masseur I’ve never met? Not at all. Mostly I just wish she’d freed his cock from his pants to wrap her red-painted lips round it with hypnotized lust. A couple of months ago, before I started this experiment, I imagine I would’ve felt a slight catch of jealousy at the thought, but somehow her experiments have been my experiments too, and we’ve evolved together. Continue reading The happy ending of The Full Body Massage Experiment →