Five minutes doesn’t sound like much, but it’s an eternity when your ass is full of laxative and screaming at you to void. I put my forehead back...on the floor and tried to relax, breathing through the waves of increasing urgency. I looked up at the clock, expecting the time to be almost up. Four and a half minutes left to go. I whimpered and put my head back down. Several times I looked up hoping my torture was almost over, only to discover that 30 seconds, or a minute had passed. Finally. The mother's group broke up and mainly settled into a couple of close female relationships but my wife wasn't in one of them. And life went on as normal. At this point I should record that normal wasn't a good thing, at least not sexually. We found parenthood exhausting and we were both too tired for sex in the main. On the few occasions we managed to get something together about half of them were aborted due to c***d-based interruptions. I guess we were down to once every one or two months at. More

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