" Her grip loosens, and I lock the door.**A few hours later I walk toward the bar from the dance floor all flushed, sweat dripping down my face. I use...the bottom of my shirt to wipe my face forgetting the tip of the toy sticking out until I catch the bartender staring with a grin on his face. He gives me a nod, and I smirk back at him while I slowly die inside from embarrassment. 'Fuck, that woman is killing me.'Pulling down on my shirt, actually just making it more obvious I’m trying to hide. Part of me would have loved to be with a girl who didn’t sweat my womanizing for a change. I still couldn’t put up with slapping, though. It was, as I told her, a dealbreaker. If I had slapped her, I would have been wrong, too. Who knew ... maybe in a year’s time or something, but maybe not.All that I knew was that I wouldn’t put up with that kind of bullshit. Not now. Not ever. It was a slippery slope. If I tolerated slapping, what would be next? Ever since my wife Jill kicked me out of the. More

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