Alone and with the house to myself, for the first time in I couldn’t remember how long, I began to dwell on thoughts of pleasuring myself in front o... some good porn on the net. I opened my nightstand looking for the bottle of lube we use occasionally but it wasn’t there. Maybe we left it on my wife’s side so I opened her nightstand only to find a journal. I had no idea Marge was keeping a diary and I was more than a little intrigued. I decided to put off masturbating and peek at what my wife. I had cracked some, too.But mentally, being in here was like someone had moved out of a house andleft all his shit behind and I'd moved in with a lot of new things andall the boxes I found there filled with irrelevancies about guyness wasuseless to me. I could open the boxes and recognize it, but it wasmostly instruction books in a foreign language, I thought. Photo albums,too. Clothes that didn't fit or were so out of style only a total idiotwould consider parading around in them.After a. More

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