Dear husband, I Want Love Not Sex

Dear husband, I Want Love Not Sex

I Want Love Not Sex.

The last time you fucked me was shit.
You didn’t even care because you came.
My body had changed. I’d had your children you see.
Everything has moved, my wants and needs have shifted.
We so rarely get to ‘do it’ that I don’t even know what I like.
It’s not your fault, it’s not mine either but I am alone in trying to adjust to this new body.
Tiny hands still paw at me.
Soft and round have replaced hip bones you once gripped.
My tits full of milk do not want to be bitten.
My arse does not want you to try to fuck it.
Please, I ask, go slow you’re hurting me.
I want you to make love to me.
To worship the body that brought your children into this world, not treat me like your hand.
The difference, is I am a woman now in all that that encompasses.
I’m not some next girl, some one night stand,
That’s going to purr to please you.
What you’re doing to me, the way you’re touching me, the lack of thought and care…
It’s hurting me, I’m not talking physically,
What I’m experiencing is not pleasure.
My heart is hurting as you ignore my requests for a gentle touch, that the pressure and pace feel too much.
You don’t care, your end is in sight.
Love Not Sex
Love Not Sex
You’ve missed how important this vanilla lovemaking is to me, the validity I am looking for.
To know that you still want me.
You use my body to fulfil a need.
I am touched out, I have given love to the point of running out.
I’m asking you to make love to me, To love me.
And whether it’s true or just my perception, you make me feel less than I used to.
The way you’re fucking yourself into me…
Staring over my shoulder as you replay some porno in your head.
As you start whispering in my ear, something filthy that right now I don’t want to hear when I can’t remember the last time I felt that you loved me.
It’s breaking me.
…But I thought that I should try more physical intimacy, to keep my family.
The problem is I had your children.
Relegated from sexy and intriguing, to tired nag; alright for a shag.
I want my fucking future.
The one you promised me.
Where you are here, on my team.
Me and you against the world.
Me and you in love 4 evs.
Not treating me like the cleaner, the pot washer, the nanny and cook.
Not invited to parties, barely mentioned to your friends.
I am your baby mama, your wife, supposedly your life…
But the reality is I am your middle class, 2.4, suburban secret.
…as I begin to see
I say, STOP. Stop fucking me.
I’m nearly there baby.
I am silently screaming stop fucking me, physically, mentally, spiritually, have the balls to leave me.
You came.
I cleaned up.
You didn’t even hold me.
It was last time we fucked.


This article has been written anonymously, all thoughts and opinions remain the authors own and do not necessarily reflect the sentiments of Sareta Fontaine.  



  1. Zara

    This, this…
    Is deep. ?

  2. Hayley

    Your honesty is refreshing. I’m sorry you’re feeling such pain. Whatever you choose to do, I hope you find some peace. X

  3. Sareta

    Big hugs to the writer, thank you for considering our blog as a safe place to share with our readers x

  4. Tamu

    Woah. Feels so empty. Much love to you. Maybe couples counselling ❤️

  5. Abi

    Woooow this Blog post is incredibly deep !! Much love ❤️ and hugs ? ?


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