Bob kept pumping, never changing rhythm until she’d had a truly impressive orgasm, and then just before I was sure he’d not be able to control his own, he slowed, stopped and pulled himself out. I looked at Bob, who was lying on the bed watching us and I knew by the look on his face that he understood, no matter what had happened, or whether it would ever happen again, she and I were meant to be together. And then when we were at the computer show a few weeks ago, I introduced her to “Bob, from work.” That was the first concrete positive response. It was a little bit awkward for a few seconds, but then he said, “Do you mind if I take a shower, too?” He was talking to me, but he was looking at her. I let the dog out in the back yard, waited impatiently for him to pee, then I headed to the bathroom, stripped off my clothes and slipped into the shower behind her.
