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“What he loved more than anything was making love. Who could blame him? When it came to sex, I oscillated between feeling all-powerful and completely apathetic. Sometimes I was filled with a feeling of intoxication. All this power, how easy it was to make a man happy. And suddenly at the point of orgasm, I’d dissolve into tears for no apparent reason. "Too much happiness," was all I could tell him when he showed concern at my sobs. For entire days, I couldn’t bear for him to touch me. And then the infernal cycle would begin again.” — Vanessa Springora
What he loved more than anything was making love. Who could blame him? When it came to sex, I oscillated between feeling all-powerful and completely apathetic. Sometimes I was filled with a feeling of intoxication. All this power, how easy it was to make a man happy. And suddenly at the point of orgasm, I’d dissolve into tears for no apparent reason. "Too much happiness," was all I could tell him when he showed concern at my sobs. For entire days, I couldn’t bear for him to touch me. And then the infernal cycle would begin again.