Marriage Growing Sweet as Honey

We had been married for three years, yet my husband, Richard Thornton, who suffered from touch deprivation syndrome, still refused to consummate our marriage.

Every time his condition flared up, he would only press his forehead tightly against the curve of my neck.

I assumed he was saving himself for his first love, the woman who had left years ago. Then, I overheard him talking to his friends.

"Stop teasing her next time. It makes her tense up every time."

"Got it, Richard. But if you care about Valeria so much, why won't you touch her? It's been three years. Aren't you worried she'll leave you for someone else?"

Richard shook his head. "You don't understand. The longer we're together, the harder it is to control myself around her. She's so delicate. I'm terrified I'll hurt her. As long as she's mine, I wouldn't care even if she slept with someone else first."

His friends burst out laughing. "Richard, you're all talk. If you could really handle her being with another man, you wouldn't keep running to the hospital. You think we don't know what you're up to?"

The next day, I found Richard's medical records. Visit after visit, he kept asking the same question, "How can I be gentler in bed? I don't want to hurt the woman I love."

After my 99th failed attempt to be intimate with my husband, Richard Thornton, I could not help but ask, "Richard, is there something wrong with me? Why won't you touch me after all these years of marriage?"

He was perfect in every other way. He remembered every anniversary and every special occasion. Anything I added to my shopping cart would show up as a gift the next day.

Yet, when it came to physical intimacy, Richard kept himself covered in turtlenecks and long sleeves as if he wanted to shield every inch of his skin from me.

I reached for the obvious bulge straining against his pants. "Let me help you, honey."

Richard turned away with his back to me. After a long silence, he finally said, "Let's just sleep. I'm tired tonight."

In the darkness, I bit my lip and pressed myself against his back, feeling the hard planes of muscle and the heat radiating from his body.

"Don't you want me?"

Before my hand could move any further, Richard pushed me away. "Don't do this anymore."

The words came out cold before he fled into the bathroom, and my hopes crashed once again.

I could hear his ragged breathing through the door. Even with my eyes closed, I knew exactly what he was doing there.

It was like this almost every single night since our marriage.

I stared at the bathroom door. He had left it cracked open, just a sliver. Through that gap, I could see him watching me with burning eyes, his hand moving steadily.

The humiliation washed over me, and anger flared. "Richard, if this keeps up, I'll find another man!"

Richard froze. His