I told myself that I was making it up. I knew that she was off the pill, newly receptive to my seed. Had that knowledge distorted my perceptions? Perh...ps. But still, she did smell fertile.I placed two fingers on her mound, just at the point where the pad splits into lips. I rubbed her there, pressing firmly enough that her flesh moved with my fingers, lightly enough that the fingers didn't move across her hair. Touch, though, was no longer enough; neither was sight, nor even smell.Just the tip. This cold has me regressing back to my days of an infant. I feel helpless and needy as the third and worst day drags on. Men are horrible when they are ill and on this third day I am one of those men, useless and sucky. My wife laughs a tiny laugh as she sees me typing away watching the sinus tears travel down my cheeks. I know what she is thinking because she had the same cold just a week ago and for some reason, a mystery still unknown to man, unlike me she continued as though her wall of. More

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