I have sex with my husband 5 times a week — but his secret has left me feeling insecure

Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger.

This week we hear from Sasha*, a 43-year-old married model who has a very active sex life — doing the deed four to five times a week.

She met her husband Percy* in 2006, describing him as a dead ringer for Paul Rudd, who she met while living in a flat share in Derby.

The pair formed a friendship first, but eventually began dating and married in 2010.

‘We enjoy a very regular sex life, which I find incredibly fulfilling,’ Sasha explains. ‘Sometimes I get tired, but I like to make the effort.’

Sasha is also keen for them to be more adventurous in their love life and to try new things.

So, without further ado, here’s how Sasha got on this week…

The following sex diary is, as you might imagine, not safe for work.

Monday

I spend the day at a shoot in Birmingham pretending to be a pharmacist. I’m often hired for corporate campaigns, adverts and generic images.

When I get home I’m drained, as is Percy, who has had a long day as a mechanical engineer.

After a home cooked Malaysian curry laksa dinner, where I unfortunately explode a bottle of spiced turmeric, I head to our spare room to find an outfit for tonight.

I dig out a French maid outfit from eight years ago, when I used it for a Halloween costume. It fits, if a little tight. It even has a cheap pink feather duster. 

I run downstairs, flouncing around without underwear on and flash him. He’s horny enough to chase me around the dining room table before gently catching me in his arms. I love roleplay because it feels so empowering that you can become whoever you want in that moment.

I get on my knees to give him a blow job, although I’ve got a sore on my tongue which makes it a little uncomfortable. Before he finishes, he takes me doggy style on all fours, which is extremely satisfying.

Tuesday 

It a tiring day with a very unglamorous corporate bank model shoot.

My husband and I are both tired from work so we order Thai take out and watch a horror movie on Netflix. He’s too tired for full penetrative sex tonight, but I’m keen to give him a blow job.

He grabs handfuls of my hair and thrusts my face down onto his member, which annoys me slightly. I get he wants to be masculine and take control, but honestly, all it did was hurt my neck.

After that, he returns the favour and goes down on me. I’ve not trimmed down there, but it doesn’t bother me. I moan so loud the dog next door starts barking.

Then we collapse in a sweaty heap of tangled legs and arms. We like to switch between oral and penetrative sex through out the week, to avoid falling into a routine.

Wednesday 

Percy was never very confident with girls before we met, and confided in me he was a virgin.

He’d had a few girlfriends he’d met online and they had oral sex, but never went the whole way. He’s never been confident in how he looks, which held him back, but he’s a good looking guy with great blue eyes.

Tonight he’s in a mood because I’ve discovered a whole cache of sickly sweet old photos of him posing with one of those ex girlfriends.

I’m livid, jealous, insecure — frankly, I feel betrayed. Earlier I’d been rifling through a drawer under our bed and found a box with various trinkets like a fancy wrapped up chocolate, key rings, a fairytale book, ticket stubs.

Why would you keep stuff like that? When he got in from work I confronted him, saying it made me feel insecure, but he said it was his right to keep those memories.

Admittedly I feel guilty now for ripping up a few pictures, but we’ve failed to resolve the argument tonight. We sleep in different bedrooms because he’s upset I wrecked his stuff, and though I feel bad, I’m also angry.

Thursday

This morning everything seems to have calmed and we’ve regained our tempers. After sleeping on it, I apologise to him over breakfast, although it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t apologise back.

Regardless, I take the day off as I want to relax and pamper myself. Before Percy leaves for work, we agree to have a date tonight to reconnect.

He comes home two hours early from work and we head to the cinema to watch a cute rom com, which is actually more moving than I expected.

When we get home, I’m very horny and whisper to him that I’m not wearing any underwear. What follows is some intense make-up sex.

I grab some raspberry lube, yank up my silky camisole skirt and ease myself down on top of him. We find a rhythm together. Not too fast, not too slow.

It’s rough sex, deep and dirty, pulling at each other. He smudges my lipstick and rips a few buttons off my outfit.

It’s so fulfilling and we orgasm together, working off the last of our frustration from last night. But it’s not enough, so we have sex two more times, both just as rough as the first, which I enjoy when in the right mood.

After we put his jeans in the wash, and my skirt smells like raspberries.

Friday 

Percy only has to work a half day, so he’s finished by noon and heads home to me.

I’m still a little tender down there after our sex yesterday, but we can’t keep our hands off each other.

We don’t need sex toys just some lube, a necessary requirement after I hit surgical menopause — today we use a milk chocolate flavoured body lube from Love Honey.

I’m actually hungry for lunch but some pre-food sex won’t hurt my appetite.

We stumble onto the sofa and he quickly takes me from behind. I’m a curvy size 16 to 18 with sizable breasts and long legs, but I hold my weight on my tummy with surgery scars and cellulite.

It doesn’t matter to him though, he says he likes me curvy and voluptuous. I’m wearing expensive silky lingerie from Agent Provocateur which he leaves round my ankles.

Then he flips me and we revert to missionary for just the right amount of time until I finish.

Saturday 

It’s a 6am wake up call to grab breakfast before we head to my cousin’s wedding. It’s a beautiful ceremony at a gurdwara and the bride looks exquisite.

The party is a blur of Percy and I dancing and me eating my weight in samosas, before we grab a taxi home. Once we’re back it seems a waste to mess up our outfits — I’m in a heavy embellished gold sari and he’s in his cream sherwani.

Despite this, we find ourselves in our ensuite and he begins to hike up my layers of fabric and unzips his trousers.

We stumble over to the bed and I hop onto him, riding him like a pony before he switches it up and takes me from behind while we’re both lying side-by-side.

The sex is quite dry without any foreplay, so it’s not our finest, and we feel bloated from everything we ate at the wedding.

Sunday

Percy leaves for a stag do this morning, so I choose to indulge in sweet treats and films with hot sex scenes.

I keep rewinding the scenes and try to masturbate to climax. It feels exhilarating and energising to know I don’t need a man to pleasure myself.

I watch the movie Blue Is The Warmest Colour and it reminds me of a time  at uni when I was bicurious and kind of dating Laila, one of my friends who looked like a South American Sophie Loren.

She was very laid back, boho, and calm with such good energy. She wanted to take it further but at nineteen I was too scared living with strict Asian parents at home.

I have a luxury bubble bath after and finger myself in the water, imagining Laila sucking and twisting my nipples, coming harder and faster than I do with Percy.

Percy arrives home and says a stripper took a liking to him and was dry humping him. He didn’t ask for permission to go because he knows he doesn’t need it — I want him to explore his sexuality and I trust him not to cross the line.

I lead him to his study and sit on him in his leather reading chair, sliding down onto his and enjoying some cowgirl. He’s surprised I’m so wet and energetic.

I quite like the fantasy of him being with someone else although I’d never want that in reality, but it has clearly turned me on.

I straddle him and ride him hard, up and down. Then he carries me to the wall my legs around his waist, and he have another short round.

After that we’re exhausted, but happy.

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