Some people may consider that there is no such thing as the “seven-year itch.” For me though, I am convinced because I lived through it. This is my story of who, why, where, what, and how it all came about.

My husband and I had a great courtship, and a great early marriage, especially sexually. We dated for a year before we were married and we had sex almost every single day, and quite often, more than once a day. We were like a couple of rabbits; neither of us ever seemed to get enough.

We met one evening, I was uptown, walking up and down the streets, hoping some guy would stop and pick me up and take me out somewhere, anywhere, I didn’t care, I wanted to be with a guy. That is when my future husband pulled his car over and rolled the window down and asked if I wanted to spend some time together. We knew each other, but had never dated or been particularly close, but this would be the start of a long relationship.

We drove around together for a while and then he suggested going to a drive-in movie. At the drive-in movie, we did what normal teenagers do, we kissed a lot, he undid my bra, he felt me up. I played with his cock, and he had my skirt up and my panties off and played with my hairy snatch. After the movie, he was going to drive me home, I didn’t want to go home yet, so he took me to a secluded dark alley. We again got naked, and although I wasn’t aware of it at the time, he had sex for the first time in his life, it wasn’t my first experience sexually, but I lied to him and said that it was. He did not believe me because there was no blood, no cherry got popped, and he wasn’t that naive.

I eventually came clean and told him the truth. That I was not a virgin when he screwed me, and that in fact, I had been screwed on a few occasions by a couple of different guys previously.

From that date on, we were inseparable, we dated almost every night, we were young, I had just turned sixteen and he was eighteen. As I mentioned earlier, we had so much sex in that year, and after marriage, it continued.

A couple of years into our marriage we had our first child and two years later our second and last child. We had been married for four years and the challenges of life and raising a family began to take hold of our minds. Work and stress of finances began to be a big thing. We still had sex almost every single night, but it wasn’t the same, the passion was gone, we were both tired when we made love. Love was still there, but the passion wasn’t.

Eventually I went to work, and I did it out of necessity; we needed the extra income. My husband worked every day, and his job was physical and challenging. He made good money, but the cost of raising a family, and purchasing a new home were very draining on us both.

To be honest, I had also gained a lot of weight, I had gone from having a curvy one-hundred-and-ten-pound body to close to one-hundred-and-seventy-pound flabby body. My husband began drinking a lot more as well. Somehow, we maintained our sex life. We still had it almost every night, and he had no issue getting it up for me.

As we moved into our seventh year of marriage, we began to argue, and the stress of everything going on in our life began to take its toll on both of us.

I started a job at a small remanufacturing mill. I was only twenty-three years old. After a couple of months at the plant my supervisor took me to the restaurant and bought me lunch. He had been flirting with me ever since I started working there. I didn’t know why he would flirt with me; I had absolutely nothing going for me. I was fat, I didn’t consider myself good looking, and he was a year younger than I was. So why me?”

Another month passed and he continued his flirting ways. We sat together in the lunchroom, and he told me he had a wife, two children, a boy and a girl. The boy was from his wife’s first marriage, and the girl was his and his wife’s. His wife was about five years older than he was. He told me about his sideline job, he would do roofing in his spare time, and often he went out after dinner to do some estimates or some roofing. He was beginning to grow on me, I liked him a lot, and I liked that he was paying attention to me, giving me the things I was no longer getting at home.

Then one day he asked if I wanted to go with him later that evening while he went and did an estimate on a roof he had lined up. I jumped at the opportunity, not even thinking of how I would explain it to my husband, I just said that I would go with him. Later that night, I told my husband that I was going out with a co-worker while he did an estimate on a house, and it was several miles away, so I might not get back too early. I told him that he had to stay with the kids. Later that night, he came by the house and picked me up.