The Gloryhole Experience

I was married on the fifth of April 1950 and even though it was only two months after my eighteenth birthday, I already felt like my marriage would be the happiest day of the rest of my life.

My wife was the same age as myself. In fact, we got married one day after her own birthday. It was, as far as I could recall, the most beautiful she had ever been. Her blonde hair; her blue eyes; her smile, like ivory; her graceful movements and the white dress, handsewn by her grandmother. She looked absolutely heavenly. My only regret was that I, a poor, Jewish boy could not give her the wedding she so obviously deserved.

Sarah was her name now carrying the surname of Fritz and she was everything a man could ask for. She was kind, humble, sweet and supportive. If there was a flaw in her character, it was in her Christian upbringing which only server to amplify her greatest qualities. She had grown up poor and thus did not ask for much other than my loyalty and devotion: two things I was more than willing to give.

Dettagli