There are couples for whom sex is that dirty, shameful, half-clothed, furtive missionary thing done in the dark. The babies come one after the other, laboured home by a mother who has never sniffed an orgasm.
Yet, contrary to what most men think, the way to a woman’s heart is not an M-pesa alert, or a sack of shoes or a boutique, car or house in her name. It is cunnilingus — the ‘tongue twister’ hidden in the colourful undies that most husbands never buy for their wives.