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I received an email from a reader named Samira and her story is a powerful example of how exploring new dynamics can revive sexual energy in a marriage. After struggling with sexual disconnection, she and her husband decided to bring a “bull” into their lives. This choice helped her rediscover her desire, not just with the new partner, but also with her husband, ultimately repairing a broken bond.
What stands out in Samira’s email is the importance of communicating sexual needs openly. Her experience shows that with the right approach, couples can reignite passion and bridge emotional distance Samira’s story proves at least in her case that changing something that isn’t working is a path to a very real path to a more fulfilling, connected relationship.
Samira’s Story
I never thought I would be in this place, you know? Looking back, it feels like a lifetime ago, yet at the same time, the memories are still fresh—too fresh.
Before Patrick came into our lives, my husband and I had already stopped pretending. We had gone through the motions, we had tried all the recommended “fixes”—date nights, intention, communication—but it never addressed the core issue. The truth? I just didn’t want him. Not sexually. Not anymore. And it wasn’t just about him—it was my desire in general. It was like something in me had shut down. I felt stuck in this hollow space between wanting sex and knowing I didn’t want it with him. I loved him, of course, but that spark had long since faded.
We eventually just stopped. The pressure of making love when I didn’t want to, the disappointment in his eyes when I wasn’t emotionally there with him, it all became too much. We let it go, and without making a conscious decision, we found ourselves in a sexless marriage. I still had needs, of course, but I took care of them myself. In secret. That part stings the most when I look back on it. I remember waiting for him to leave the house, listening for the sound of the door closing, feeling a sick sort of excitement because it meant I could finally have a moment to myself. I was rewarding myself sexually for his absence and I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty for it. I only felt pure joy that he was gone so I could give this sexual gift to myself. It was, after all his own fault in my head.
That’s not what marriage is supposed to feel like.
I didn’t want to live the rest of my life that way.
Then I read one of your blogs. I don’t even remember which one exactly, but something in it hit me hard—this realization that my sexuality wasn’t some luxury or “extra” in my life. It was a part of me, a necessary part, and I was starving it to death. If we didn’t fix this, if I didn’t fix this, our marriage was going to dissolve into something neither of us wanted.
I remember the conversation as clear as day.
“We need to talk,” I told him. My voice shook, but I held my ground. “I can’t live like this. I can’t live a sexless life.”
His face fell. “I know, I am so frustrated every day.” he whispered.
“I need to feel wanted,” I admitted, my voice raw with emotion. “I need to feel craved. I need… a bull.”
I said it in the heat of the moment, not even knowing if I meant it. But the words were out now, and there was no taking them back. What I didn’t expect was his reaction. He didn’t explode, didn’t laugh, didn’t call me crazy. He sat there, staring at me for what felt like forever. Then, slowly, he nodded I think in disbelief he thought I was going to say divorce I think.
That’s when I found out he liked hotwife porn. It was the first moment of honesty we’d had in a long time, and for the first time in months, maybe years, we weren’t avoiding the truth.
It wasn’t long before we were searching together, navigating dating apps, looking for the right man. We didn’t want just anyone. I wanted someone who would make me feel sexy again, someone whose desire for me was undeniable. Finding this man for me, for us was playful and because a thing for us to do together that was full of sexual energy. And eventually, we found Patrick.
Patrick was a few years older in his mid 40s, confident, charming. We had very brief chat in the app before we met him for the first time at a small winery, I couldn’t believe someone like him was into me. He showed up in a suit and he looked dashing but he looked at me like he wanted me. Like he needed me. I hadn’t felt that in so long, I nearly melted under his gaze. And my husband? He saw it, too. He saw the way I lit up under Patrick’s attention, and I think, deep down, he knew this was what we needed. I knew my husband wanted me but I felt like I owed himself to him and feeling like I owe myself to anyone was enough to make me not want it. He doesn’t own my sexuality and I don’t owe my body to him.
The first time Patrick came over, we set boundaries. No sex—just touching, playing, exploring. We started in bed because I knew myself, knew if we didn’t start there, I’d lose my nerve. My husband brought us drinks, sat beside me, watched. And as Patrick’s hands moved over me, as his lips found my neck, I felt something stir in me that had been dormant for so long. A hunger. A desire. My body reacted in ways I had forgotten it could.
And my husband? He saw it, too. He saw me alive again, saw me relishing in my own sexuality.
We kept seeing Patrick. The tension built. The chemistry grew. And eventually, the rules changed. I wanted more. I needed more. And the first time Patrick and I finally had sex, it was everything I had been missing. Passionate, desperate, unrestrained. It was exactly what I needed. And as I looked over at my husband, watching, I saw something in him that surprised me—he wasn’t just okay with it. He was turned on by it.
But it wasn’t just about me. My husband clung to this new reality like it was saving him, too. He loved watching me with Patrick, but more than that, he and Patrick became mates. I didn’t expect it, but they genuinely got on well. They talked, laughed, shared drinks together. At first, I thought it was just part of the act, part of what made all of this easier, but it wasn’t. My husband genuinely liked him. Trusted him.
It made everything even smoother, even better. Patrick wasn’t just some random guy—we cared about him, and in a weird way, he cared about us, too. There was never jealousy, never awkwardness, just this mutual understanding of what we all needed from each other.
I can’t explain how it all worked, but it did. Somehow, bringing Patrick into our lives didn’t drive my husband and me further apart—it brought us closer. I started craving intimacy again, not just with Patrick, but with my husband, too. The desire that had been dead in me was revived, and it wasn’t just directed at Patrick. My husband and I started reconnecting in ways I never expected. We started touching more, kissing more, finding each other again in the space between our encounters with Patrick.
Now, six months later, Patrick is still part of our lives. And our marriage? It’s stronger than it’s been in years.
Some might judge. Some might say we should have just gone to therapy, tried harder to fix things the “normal” way. Both of us were shut off and a year of therapy would never have made us open like Patrick did. But the truth is, every relationship is different. Every marriage has its own rhythm and needs. This worked for us. And for the first time in so long, I feel whole again. I feel desired, I feel sexy, I feel like a woman.
For anyone out there struggling in the same place I was, know this—you don’t have to accept a sexless life if it isn’t what you want. Do not silence your needs. There is hope. There is always hope.
Samira
