Erotica Short Stories

Tinted Love

She had been in a relationship for seven years. Today, it was their anniversary. Of course she still loved him with all of her heart.
But after seven years, people change. Or more precicely, relationships change. You don't think about over eating anymore, about gaining weight and being unattractive. You don't think about locking the bathroom, no, in fact u scream for ur better half to bring you some damn toilet paper and complain about not being able to have a proper shit in this household. You fight about who is going to do the dishwasher and why nobody bought food for the weekend.
But that's just what happens after seven years. You have known the other person for so long, that you've seen how they act in every possible situation there exists. You have tested your boundaries and after seven years you don't try to act like the best version of yourself every day.
Unfortunately this can also affect your sexlife. Suddenly you stick to a certain routine. You don't try new things and most importantly, sex becomes something you both have less and less time for.
You get lazy, don't put on your most beautiful underwear, forget to shave, prefer a boring evening infront of you TV instead of having to worry if your partner had a shower or if you regularly took the pill.
It gets easier to avoid intimacy. To replace it with hours of work or painting your nails red as you've seen in every second magazine you've read in the hours in-between that you call freetime.

It was a Monday of course. Last time the 14th June fell on a Saturday was years ago. Paris. A beautiful night.
She turned 35 two months ago. She could clearly see the small wrinkles around her eyes now. Some were forming on her forehead.
They had always avoided the topic about children. In fact, their relationship started as an affair, a way to release stress and give life some more texture and a new adventure. They made clear in the beginning that contraception was vital.
But that was seven years ago. They lived together now. They shared their bed and life.

She wanted to be a mother. She never set a limit for herself. She thought if the time was right she would get pregnant. But time was running out on her like sand. In one moment you could feel it in your hand, warming your palm. Solid, unmoving. But when your hand loses its firm grip the sand disappears in-between your fingers. Gone and never found again. If you look close enough you can watch it fall.

This year had to be different.
It was a Monday obviously. She had to show up at work, use her perfected fake sunshine-smile that could transform easily into a grimace in the late hours if she wasn't paying attention, to lure all the customers in.

She had told him.
That she needed something different. Something new. Exciting.

She had washed her lacy red lingerie. It still fitted perfectly. She couldn't help but smile when she looked in the mirror.

Suddenly she appreciated the small lines around her eyes.