We’re lying on his bed again; I’m loosely held in his arm as we stare at the ceiling in companionable silence. I'm content and truly happy for the first time in my life. We’re saying nothing, just lying side by side, his hand twirling a strand of my hair and gazing up, finally sated, and it feels like perfection. It only took half a dozen times, in as many hours, before he finally stopped wanting sex every time we stilled to catch our breath. My body is tingling in ways I never knew it ...