My name is Helen, I am fifty-three, I’ve been married to Paul, who is two years older than me, for thirty-three years. As childhood sweethearts, we seemed destined to be together for as long as we can remember.
My life is almost perfect, we have two children, three grandchildren, and we live in a beautiful little village. We both took easily to the relaxed village lifestyle when we moved here over ten years ago. I have quite an active social life, with the village church committee, amongst other interests, as I said, my life is damn-near perfect, but not quite.
Twelve years ago, my husband was involved in a horrific car accident that left him fighting for his life. When he won that battle, he had to face two years of reconstructive surgery on his shattered pelvis and legs, which has left him in a lot of pain, which he handles as well as can be expected And erectile dysfunction, which he doesn’t.
The physical pain is easily controlled, but the psychological pain of slowly losing his libido, and being unable to gain an erection without those little blue pills is more difficult to cope with. Don’t get me wrong, those pills work, but he has terrible side-effects, they cause him to have debilitating headaches, which can lay him low for up to twenty-four hours. So, the result is, we get to have sex two, maybe three times a year if I’m lucky, and, he seems to have lost interest in it altogether.
He understands my frustration and has even said that it would be okay for me to take a lover, as long as I didn’t rub it in his face. That was heartbreaking to hear, I couldn’t possibly do that to him, no matter how frustrated I get. So, for now, I’m resigned to self-pleasure with my vibrator which he bought me a few years ago.