I’d find myself masturbating at noon, in the evening, and sometimes, at night, in the washroom, after I’ve had sex.A few years later, we had a chi...d and had moved for good to Delhi, I happened realize that it wasn’t sex that I craved but fuck. I realized I wasn’t being fucked by my husband but been made love to. He touches me tenderly and I melt, he holds my breasts with great reverence and I smile and he inserts his penis in my vagina and I moan. Wonderful, one would think, and wonderful it. One evening I had come back from a particularly stressful day at the office. It wasn’t the most professional of places. The upper management would circle jerk all day long, recruitment didn’t have a clue about what makes a good worker, even the eye candy that the director hired to sit on reception looked like the love child of Jabba the Hutt and Boris Johnson. Two of my understudies had decided to come into work coked out of their head, my laptop wouldn’t boot no matter how many times I started. More

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