On their return journey from Hamburg, my wife and my son had an accident. The carriage had overturned, the messenger informed me, and the heir-apparen... to the throne, my son, had been killed on the spot."My wife was wounded. Badly. Her head had slammed into the roof, and she had fallen into a coma. At a nearby lodging-house, she was looked after by the innkeepers and the doctors in a manner, I must admit, that befitted the Queen she was."If I appear to be emotionless when I write this, it's. She was a woman who longed for a good fuck.What does that mean? Am I not good enough?Am I not a man?I couldn’t digest that. Because, if i weren’t good enough, then what I was giving her every other night? What she was receiving from me when she was moaning in pleasure those nights? Was she faking it? I had heard about girls faking it to please their men but I couldn’t believe my wife would do it to please me. It wasn’t simply possible to be true in my life, I thought.All hell was breaking loose. More

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