I used to look at friends who had really close relationships and think that was all I wanted. I’d been through a succession of men who were all somewhat abusive, who tried to keep me down and under control. My family life wasn’t much better – there was a lot of psychological stuff going on throughout my childhood. I had been depressed and on medication for some years, and was broke, had mobility issues and was hardly a catch.

I had known my now husband for some years when we got together. We didn’t move in the same social circles, only occasionally meeting, but whenever we did, he was engaging to talk to. I knew he liked my tits. His eyes popped out of his head when my 34Hs in a corset were revealed as I arrived at a party. I didn’t know until recently that he had gone home that night and wanked thinking of them. That made me very happy.

I found myself comparing men to him, as he seemed like a decent caring guy. He’d even helped me out a couple of times, yet I was peripheral to his life. We’d done a couple of comedy gigs together, but it is clear he thought of us as mates. I wanted to be so much more, but I knew if I push or rushed, he’d run a mile, and I didn’t want to risk not having him in my life at all – a little of him was better than none of him.

It all changed in one gig, when I nuzzled up against him, and he put his arm round me. It felt wonderful to have him touch me, and I wanted it again. As we parted that night, we agreed to go out for a meal the following week. I made his favourite dessert, to make him come back to my place. I was wearing a top that showed my tits off to their finest. I could see him sneaking lots of looks, and that made him and me happy. He could have played with them if he wanted (but I didn’t say that in case it scared him off). Instead, as we watched a DVD, I snuggled up to him. He put his arm round me again, and I rested my head on his shoulder. He had a good view of my tits, and when I moved to get comfier and slightly covered them up, he said it was a shame. I was only too happy to readjust to give him the best view.

You see, by that point, I had realised. I felt safe. Totally safe. I managed to fight back the tears. I needed this to work. I needed him to touch me. I needed him to caress me. I needed him to fuck me. I needed him.

I was aware the credits were rolling. I turned off the telly without moving and looked up at him. He looked down at me, with love in his eyes, and then gently rolled his head forward and kissed me on the lips. Fireworks were going off in my mind. It was a brief kiss, but he looked down at me again. I later realised he was waiting for me to say no, but I didn’t. I moved my mouth closer to his and we kissed, this time longer, and our tongues touched. That was all the answer I needed, and I clambered up to him and properly snogged him.

As we broke our kiss again, I looked at him and said, “Please don’t mess with me.” With massive love in his eyes, he said that he had no plans to mess with me, how he never does anything by halves, and although it might not work out, he liked the idea of us being a couple. I said I did too, and I snogged his face off. For three hours we snogged. My tongue was exhausted, but we’d managed to snuggle and snog all night, even though he had to go to work the next day.

That first kiss changed my life. It changed everything. That was one amazing kiss.

Now this is going to make him blush. Yes, I realise how weird that sounds. A blog which is going into intimate and intricate detail about our sex and kink life, and an intro post about my husband is the one that is going to make him blush. But it will.

You see, he doesn’t appreciate what he is. He’s just doing what he thinks a partner should do. You know, simple things like supporting his partner, helping her to live a more comfortable and happy life, helping her to do the best she can in qualifications, helping her to build her self-esteem, loving her with all his heart, trying to make her happy, cuddling her, snogging her face off, fucking her well and selflessly whenever she wants, making her cum like a train. I don’t think he quite realises how few men would do what he does, how few men would care enough to improve my life, how few men would be such a great fuck in such a selfless manner. He’s amazing.

I realise all men fuck, but often very selfishly. I’ve had quite a few unsatisfying encounters myself. To be fair, so has he. He described his longest running ex as like fucking a sack of potatoes not a woman. Actually, she did him a lot of damage: she put him off women for years, and it took a visit from an old uni fuck to get him back to his sexual best.

So why was I different? He laughingly says 34Hs, but the truth is he doesn’t know. He said there was something about me, and he can’t lay his finger on it. He knew all the downsides of being with me (and rather a lot of lies from my ex as well), but he decided to risk it anyway.

That kiss. That perfect moment that changed everything. He decided walking to my place that he wanted to kiss me. He wasn’t sure if I wanted it, but when I had adjusted my position to give him the best view of my tits, he took that as a good sign. He paused for me to say no. I didn’t. I just snogged his face off.

It is just over 6 years since that kiss, and we’ve been married about 18 months. During that time, he’s fucked me over 1000 times (We know because he kept count!). That’s a little under once every two days on average. We’ve had some drier spells, and a lot of periods where we fuck every single day. I can honestly say that not one of those fucks was crap. Some were amazing, some were just ordinary (for him), but his ordinary is still fucking good. I think that is because of his selfless attitude. He completely focusses on me when he’s fucking me. He works on my mind and body, in full knowledge that he’ll be cumming anyway. He knows my body and reads signs that I don’t know I’m giving off. He just feels great inside me and I’m addicted to it, I’m addicted to fucking him and he’s not complaining!

Sometimes, I look at him and wonder how the hell we got here. How did we get from that scared wary man and an abuse-weary woman lacking in opportunity, to this – a blissfully happy couple with a raging sex life, loads of kinky stuff, and above all, a feeling of safety and love.

I fucking love him, and I love fucking him too.