Yep, my husband, for the third time, is prowling the intertubes looking for some half-blind, brain dead female to tell him he's the greatest thing since sliced bread. He needs to hear this every day - especially when he's sitting in his recliner for the 16th consecutive hour watching the Sci-Fi channel with the remote in one hand and a bag of Chips Ahoy in the other, belching and breathing through his mouth. The lucky lady who responds to his plaintive whining will receive 27 pairs of XXL boxer briefs complete with skidmarks which he will expect you to wash, fold and put back in his drawer. In the bedroom you will receive five minutes of sloppy, wet, tongue down the throat kisses - but please don't expect him to brush his teeth beforehand...oh no. More than once a day is far too much effort for him to put forth, even if he's popped a Cialis and is hoping for a sweaty fuck before he rolls over and spends the rest of the night snoring and farting and drooling on the pillow. During relations the lucky lady will need to work diligently to get him semi-erect, using any and all means possible, with the exception of fellating him, which he does not enjoy. Not that you'd want to put your face anywhere near his smelly nether regions. If you're lucky, he'll get a wimpy little erection and you will have to jump on and pump away before it disappears. Don't worry that you will tire yourself doing all of the hard work, he will come in less than 11 strokes.
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So, if you come across his ad on whichever "married but looking" sites he is using these days, take what he says with a grain of salt. Oh, and tell him his wife says he's finally driven the last nail in the coffin.