The night we stopped fucking every night

Long before Suff-SMS-Sandro and I were connected through anything, we were connected through sex. After our first meeting or two, years of casual fucking followed. We did it all the time and everywhere.

Also in the bathroom. In the club toilet. In some courtyards. In the car. At a boring concert. And at the edge of a forest at a festival, just to name a few examples.

Everywhere Sandro and I met, clothes were for nothing. Except one winter at a cabin party, where we sneaked out and I got the worst bladder infection ever. But that’s another topic.

Because today, dear ones, we are not talking about sex. Or about the first night you spend together without fucking. That was the case for Sandro and me just over two weeks after he officially asked me if I wanted to go with him.

I could say that I have now had my period. Or corona. Or a bladder infection, because we used to only fuck. That would all be a lie. Except the many birds. Until that night without sex, we had what felt like non-stop sex. From sheer disruption and intense riding, I even had a mini-six pack with plenty of optimism.

Anyway, it was a Thursday when we laid down. Normally it would take a maximum of two minutes for us to lay there kissing wildly. Two more until both his neighbors and mine really had every reason to complain.

However, on this Thursday… nothing happened. We lay down. Sandro the big, me the little spoon. We chatted and then fell asleep. I woke up with a jolt in the night.

That is it? Day hotness? Hey sweatpants? Goodbye blazing fire of passion? Grüezi probably very boring few groove?

I panicked a bit. I woke up Sandro. And early. He mumbled something about it “I’d like to sleep through” and “relax yourself”then he rolled over and fell asleep again.

I lay awake. And heard him snore. And did you wonder if snoring isn’t sexy? I came up with yes. And that that’s okay. In fact, it feels like home.

I told myself that until the snoring made me lie down on the couch.

The next day even more Pärli groove crept into our lives. At 4 pm I received a Whatsapp message and a photo from Sandro. “Can you post balsamic vinegar?” Also a photo of a bottle of balsamic vinegar with figs.

So there it was, the balsamic picture. He hung in between all the nudes and amorous selfies we’ve been sending back and forth over the years. Usually between midnight and sometime in the morning.

“I do it”I answer.

Then I put my phone in the recess and pulled the trigger. It wasn’t a very good picture of my breasts. But it was a tit picture. For this I wrote: “Can you knead them again for that? I don’t know what it feels like anymore.”

Sandra could. Shortly afterwards we had eaten the burrata and the tomato with the fig balsamic vinegar in front of the TV.

I was reconciled. Or just satisfied.

More than a year has now passed. We now regularly don’t have sex when we sleep together. But we also have sex regularly. The jogging pants have meanwhile made their appearance. Sandro’s sandals too.

Go about it very relaxed. And he no longer has cold feet, because he no longer takes them off when we do it on his kitchen table.

So it’s really all good. Also Adilette sex. Maybe especially that. Sorry neighbors!