Текст книги "Troubles and Treats"

Автор книги: Tara Sivec

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

“HEY!” I yell to a group of guys walking by our picnic table.  “LOOK AT MY VAGINA!”

Claire smacks my hand down from making a ‘V’ with two of my fingers.  “What the hell are you doing?!”

I scope out the crowd for more people who look willing and able.

“VAGINA!” I shout to a couple walking hand-in-hand to the table next to us.  They immediately turn and head in another direction.

“Oh sweet Jesus, she’s lost her mind,” I hear Liz tell Claire.  “She thinks something is wrong with her vagina.  She tried to get me to look at it the other day.”

There’s a guy all by himself two tables over.  I bet he’d appreciate the vagina.  This beer is delicious.

“Wait, is that why Jim called Carter and was screaming about his dreams dying and how he never gets what he wants?  Carter could barely understand a word he was saying.”

I take a big gulp of my drink and slam the cup down on top of the table.

“HEY!  VAGINA!” I yell to the guy by himself at the other table.

He looks at me strangely for a minute and then replies, “Uh, penis?”

“WOOOOOOHOOOOOO!” I cheer, jumping up out of my seat and attempting to do the running man.  It doesn’t go so well and I fall flat on my ass.

“Who put the ground so fucking close to my ASS?!” I yell.

“Okay, I think she’s cut off,” Claire says as she gets up from the table and pulls me up by my arms.

“Claire, will you look at my vagina?” I ask her as I put my head on her shoulder.

“What is the deal with you and vagina?  Is this your new favorite word or something?” Claire asks as she helps me back to the table.

“Ass fuck, I told you.  She thinks something is wrong with her vagina and that’s why she and Drew aren’t having sex or some shit like that,” Liz explains as I move my head from Claire’s shoulder and rest it on top of the table.

“When was the last time you guys had sex?” Claire asks.

“Um, what day is it today?”

“It’s Saturday,” Claire answers.

“Last year.”

Liz grabs the back of my shirt and yanks me up.  “The fuck you say?”

I grab my beer and take another drink.

“Well, if we’re talking really good, awesome sex then yes.  Before the New Year when I was pregnant with Billy.”

Liz lets out a sigh of relief.  “Okay, you had me scared there.  I thought you meant an actual year.  So we’re just talking a few months then.  That’s not THAT big of a deal.”

I stare at her in horror for a few minutes.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?  A few months?  That’s like ten years in human years,” I complain.

“Actually, that’s like a few months in human years, moron.  It would be ten years in dog years,” Liz informs me.

“What the fuck ever!  And you were right the first time.  It really has been a full year.  Since before I got pregnant with Billy.  We used to do it like dogs.  All dirty and rolling around in the grass and eating out of bowls and using leashes.  It was hot,” I say with a sigh as I reminisce.

“This beer is coming right back up.  I can feel it,” Claire complains.

“It only got weird that one time Drew lifted his leg in the living room.  But it was still awesome.  SO WHO WANTS TO LOOK AT MY VAGINA?!”

A bunch of guys walking by all start cheering.  One guy even yells back, “Vagina, long live and prosper!”

Liz pulls my arms down to my sides and shushes me from yelling at the group of guys.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?  It’s been a whole fucking year?” she asks in shock.

I just nod my head sadly.

“You know what you and Drew need?  You two need a night out alone, just the two of you without any kids.  When was the last time you guys went out on a date?” Claire asks.

“What day is it?” I ask her.

“It’s still Saturday, asshat.”

I nod and start counting in my head.  “Saturday?  Then…last year.”

“Oh my fuck!  You guys haven’t been out on a date since before Billy was born either?  Isn’t he like five months old?” Liz asks.

“No!  He’s a month old.  Wait, no.  Three months old.  Shit, what day is it?”

“SATURDAY!” Claire and Liz yell at the same time.  The guy sitting by himself at the next table yells back, “VAGINA!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT MY VAGINA, YOU PERVERT!” I shout back to him.

I turn back around and face the girls.  “Okay, so Billy is something like four months old or some shit.  It’s Wednesday, right?”

I think my beer has something funny in it.  I feel funny.  Funny is a funny word.

“Oh sweet mother of fucks,” Liz says with a sigh.  “So you and Drew haven’t been on a date in months.  You haven’t done anything, just the two of you, in months.  Is that correct?”

I nod my head and pick up my cup to find my beer gone.

“Who the fuck drank my beer?”

Liz takes the empty cup out of my hand and chucks it into the garbage can next to our table.

“I need a cigarette.  WHO’S GOT A CIGARETTE?!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

Don’t judge me. Sometimes I get the urge to smoke when I drink.  I think I read somewhere that alcohol causes you to want to do things you shouldn’t, like rob a bank or kill a hooker.  Wait, no.  I think that’s crack.

“Oh Jesus, do NOT let her smoke,” Liz mutters to Claire.

“You can’t tell me what to do if you won’t even look at my VAGINA!” I complain.

“YAY VAGINA!” some guy yells as he walks by our table.

“WOOOOHOOO VAGINA!” I shout back.  “Hey, stud!  Give me a cigarette!”

The very nice gentleman stops and runs back to our table and hands me a cigarette, lighting it for me since I probably shouldn’t be in charge of anything that can set things on fire at this moment.

I inhale and immediately start coughing and dry heaving.

“Fuck, she’s going to puke,” Liz complains.  “Take her mind off of it.”

Claire pats me on the back and takes the cigarette out of my hand, tossing it over into the grass a few feet away.

“Okay, here’s the deal, Jenny.  Next weekend, you and Drew are going out together alone.  Carter and I will take Veronica and Billy so you guys can go to dinner and do whatever.  If you guys are in the groove and you don’t want to stop to call me, we’ll just keep them overnight,” Claire tells me as she and Liz help me up from the table.

“I love you, Claire Bear.  You’re the best ever,” I tell her as I wrap my arms around her waist and put my head on her shoulder.

“I love you too, but I’m still not looking at your vagina.”

Chapter 17 – Jackson

“No, Veronica, you are not having candy for lunch,” I tell my daughter for the third time as I help her out of the car and then race around to the other side to unstrap Billy from his car seat before he starts screaming his head off.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I WANNA BEAT YOU UP WIGHT NOW!” she yells in the middle of the driveway while stomping her feet.

Canada, take me away…wait, Canada?  Is that right?  Why would I want Canada to take me away?  They really need to rethink that commercial.

I ignore Veronica’s temper tantrum over not having candy for lunch while I try to shush Billy who just woke up from the car ride and is not a happy camper.  He’s screaming in my ear and smacking me with his little fists, Veronica is screaming by my leg, and I’m trying to pretend neither one of them exist as I reach into the backseat of the car and grab my purse, diaper bag, and the four bags of groceries I just picked up on the way home.

Taking two grumpy children to the grocery store should automatically win me mother of the freaking year.  Why do people give me such pissy looks as I’m hurrying up and down the aisles while the kids are screaming?  Do they think I pinch my kids so they’ll cry and ruin everyone else’s shopping trips?  Maybe I've purposely decided to go to the store when I know my kids will be the worst behaved.  I do it just to piss off all of the old, childless people who are stocking up on Metamucil and Depends.

As soon as I get all of the bags in my arms and heft Billy up higher so I don’t drop him, the two heaviest bags break open at the bottom and the milk, apple juice, a jar of tomato sauce, and jar of pickles go crashing to the driveway and shatter all over the place.  I’m just about ready to cry and sit down in the middle of the mess when I feel a hand on my back and a voice behind me talking to Veronica.

“Hey, little cutie!  Look at the pretty flower I just picked.  How about you go on inside and help mom put it into a glass of water?”

I turn and see a guy around the age of twenty or so, bent over, handing my daughter a huge, beautiful sunflower.  She immediately stops shouting, smiles up at him, and runs towards the front steps.

The guy stands back up and turns to face me, and I notice for the first time that he isn’t wearing a shirt.

H oly fucking sweaty six pack abs.  I am so grateful for Indian Summers in Ohio.  Yesterday it was snowing and today it’s in the seventies.

Billy seems to be just as taken with this guy as Veronica had been and has stopped his fit of rage and is now staring straight at the guy.  I can’t help staring myself. He’s gorgeous.  He’s about six feet tall, has shaggy, sandy blonde hair, and pale blue eyes.  He looks like he could be a surfer.  But there aren’t surfers in Ohio.  Or are there?  I mean, Lake Erie turns into the ocean like a mile out, doesn’t it?  That’s how we get waves on the shores of the lake.  I’m pretty sure I read that somewhere.

“I hope you don’t mind about the flower.  I have a niece her age and she loves flowers.  My name is Jackson, by the way.  I just moved in across the street.”

I shake myself out of my stupor of staring at his naked chest and grab the hand he has held out for me.  I had seen him move in a few weeks ago and we've shared a couple of neighborly waves whenever we're outside at the same time, but I have never seen him up close.

“I’m Jenny. It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for doing something to shut her up.  I was thinking about just going inside and locking her out until she calmed down,” I joke with a nervous laugh.

Shit, I don’t know this guy at all.  What if he doesn’t get my joke and calls the police.  Can I get arrested for saying I’m going to lock my three-year-old out of the house?

Luckily he laughs right along with me and gives me a heart-stopping smile.  I’m totally not kidding.  My heart stutters for a minute before picking back up.

I start to bend down to pick up some of the mess in the driveway when Jackson puts his hand on my arm to stop me.

“Hey, don’t worry about this.  I’ll clean it up.  Give me all of the bags and you go on ahead and get the kids inside.”

He smiles at me again and I kind of want to melt into a puddle of goo in the driveway with the pickle juice and tomato sauce.

When was the last time Drew smiled at me like that?  Like he wanted to lick my face.  And when was the last time he ever off ered to help me with anything, aside from those weird dishes and laundry comments he made the other night?

I thank Jackson and leave him in the driveway while I usher the kids inside to put them both down for a nap.

Fifteen minutes later, I am still arguing in the living room with Veronica about taking a nap when there is a soft knock at the front door before it’s opened a crack.

“Jenny?  Is it okay if I bring these bags in?” Jackson asks, peeking his head in the door.

“Oh, yes!  Sorry, I forgot to come back out and get them,” I tell him as Veronica jumps down off of the couch and runs over to him.

“Are you a shit turd?” she asks him in an innocent voice.

“Oh my God, Veronica!  You don’t say that!” I scold her, feeling my face get extremely red with embarrassment as the Greece God in front of me just stands there, still shirtless, laughing his ass off.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Jackson as I take the grocery bags from his hand.

“It’s fine. Sometimes I can be a shit turd so at least she was accurate,” he says with a smile.  “Oh, I swept up the mess and put it in your garbage can in the garage and then hosed down the driveway. I hope that’s okay.”

I stand there with the bags in my arms just staring at him.

I know he said he would take care of the mess, but I just figured he would be a typical guy and shove it out of the way with his foot and then go home.  I should ask him if he can teach Drew some lessons.

He looks away suddenly and pulls a t-shirt out of the back pocket of his jeans and slips it on over his head, apologizing to me as he does it like he was offending me or something.  I want to scream at him and tell him it’s more offensive that he put the shirt back on, but then I realize I’m standing here holding a bag full of tampons, panty liners, douche, and vinegar, and the bag is see through and he just freaking carried it in for me.

“The vinegar is for French fries.  My husband likes vinegar on his fries, and he likes it on cucumbers when I make cucumber salad, and I also put it in my homemade Italian dressing, and it totally doesn’t go with the other stuff in the bag because you know, it’s already scented flower fresh. I don’t like my ‘down there’ to smell like French fries or dressing, ha ha!”

Oh my God, why am I shitting out of my mouth?

Jackson just laughs and for once it feels like someone is laughing with me and not at me, and I should just get on a bus and go right to hell because I’m ogling someone that isn’t my husband.

“I’m sorry.  I’m just really tired.  I haven’t slept since my son was born.”

Veronica grabs his hand and starts tugging on it.  “Pway wif me.  I have Barbies!”

“Veronica, no. Jackson probably needs to get back home.”

“I’d love to play Barbies with you, Veronica!” Jackson says at the same time.

He squats down to Veronica’s level and tells her to go get her Barbies and bring them out so he can see if she has the same ones his niece has.  She’s out of the room before he even stands back up.

“You don’t have to do this,” I tell him.

“It’s fine, really.  Why don’t you curl up on the couch and rest while we play Barbies.”

I stare at him again and I’m pretty sure my mouth is wide open in complete shock.

“I’m sorry, am I being too pushy?  I’m kind of a stranger and I just asked if I could play with your daughter.  Is that creepy?” he asks with a chuckle.

Is it creepy?  Am I a horrible mother for wanting to take him up on his offer?  I’m so God dammed tired I could fall asleep standing up right now.

Veronica runs back into the room, her arms full of every Barbie she owns, and she proceeds to grab Jackson’s hand again and pulls him down to the floor with her.

“Veronica, do you know about strangers?” Jackson asks her as he crosses his legs in front of him and picks up Malibu Barbie and starts making her walk around in circles on the floor.

Veronica nods her head and picks up her Ken doll, copying the same moves Jackson is currently using with his Barbie.

“Never talk to stwangers,” she replies.

“Right, never talk to strangers.  Never go anywhere with anyone who isn’t your mommy or daddy either.  We’re going to sit right here and play Barbies while mommy rests.  You aren’t allowed to leave the house at all, okay?  If me, or someone else tries to get you to leave, you scream at the very top of your lungs.  Can you do that?” Jackson asks her.

Veronica proves she can by letting out a blood curdling scream, and we both wince at the sound.

“Very good!” Jackson tells her.  He looks up at me and smiles and it takes everything in me not to hug him and cry because he's being so thoughtful.  He had known exactly what I was worrying about and had made sure to calm my fears.

“Um, I’m just going to sit here.  Don’t let me fall asleep,” I tell him as I sit down on the couch, curl my legs up next to me, and rest my elbow on the arm and watch them play.

“You’re fine.  We’ll be right here getting Barbie and Ken ready for their wedding,” Jackson says with a smile as Veronica hands him Barbie’s wedding dress.

I sit there watching them for a few minutes in complete awe.  This guy who has known me for all of five minutes took one look at me and knew what I needed.  How in the hell has my husband, who has known me for years, not been able to do that?

~

I'm having the best dream ever.  I'm alone on a deserted island, and I'm sleeping.  Just sleeping.  No crying kids, no husband begging for sex…nothing but the sound of ocean waves and hours of uninterrupted sleep.  I stretch my arms over my head, feeling around for the warm sand and instead, and grab onto the arm of the couch.

I sit up quickly and blink a few times, looking around in fear and wondering why I am asleep on my couch and I can’t hear Veronica or Billy.  The living room has grown dark and there is a lamp on in the corner of the room so I know I must have been out for a few hours at least.

I jump up in a panic and am preparing to scream at the top of my lungs that my children are missing when I hear Veronica’s giggle from the kitchen.  I run around the couch and across the room, stopping short when I get to the kitchen doorway.

“Hey there, sleepyhead!  We decided to move our Barbie party into the kitchen so we didn’t disturb you,” Jackson says with a smile as he looks up from the kitchen table that’s now full of all of the Barbie crap that used to be on the living room floor.

“Mommy!  Jackson let me take Barbie swimming!” Veronica shouts excitedly while she points to the sink that’s full of water.

“Hope you don’t mind.  She wanted to fill up the bathtub but I thought the sink was a better idea.  Oh and your son is still sleeping.  I checked on him a few minutes ago.”

Where did this guy come from?  Am I still dreaming?  He can’t possibly be real.

“How long have I been out?” I ask, coming over to the table and kissing Veronica on the top of the head.

“About three hours,” Jackson replies, standing up from the table and sticking his hand out towards Veronica.  “My lady, it’s been a pleasure playing Barbies with you this evening.”

Veronica giggles and shakes Jackson’s hand.

I walk Jackson to the door and stand there holding it open while he turns and pauses on the front porch, sticking his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

“I don’t even know how to thank you.  I think I’m the one that was supposed to welcome you to the neighborhood by baking you cookies or something.  You weren’t supposed to babysit my kids while I snored on the couch,” I tell him apologetically.

“Really, it’s okay.  I didn’t mind.  I watch my niece a few times a week so it was a piece of cake.  Besides, it was too exhausting trying to do yard work in puddles of melted snow so it gave me an excuse to be lazy for once.”

He smiles at me again, and I have to force myself to swallow a few times so I don’t start to cry.

“See ya later, Jenny!  If you ever need more sleep, you know where to find me.  And I love cookies, so feel free to thank me with those sometime,” he says with a laugh as he jumps off of the porch and whistles his way across the street to his house.

I stand there watching him walk away and wonder if I’ve lost my fucking mind for even thinking about taking him up on his offer again.  I haven’t felt this good or well-rested in years.

Chapter 18 – Vanilla Sex

Date night!  Mother fucking date night!  I’m so excited I almost pissed myself.  Just kidding, I totally really did piss myself.  Just a little. It’s all good.  I've drank a lot of Pepsi this afternoon.

Jenny has been in the best mood ever this week, and I know it’s because she’s looking forward to this night as much as I am.  I've just dropped the kids off with Carter and Claire with strict instructions not to call us unless one of the kids is bleeding from the eyes.  And only if it’s a lot of blood, like, “Oh my God, so much blood!”  If you’re just like, “Eh, some drops of blood from the eyes, nothing to get your panties in a bunch about,”’ don’t call me.  I’ve already hidden Jenny’s cell phone in my pants so she has no choice but to give the meat whistle a little rub if she wants to check on the kids.

I've left Jenny at home to finish getting ready and because I know if she goes with me to drop the kids off, it would have taken at least an hour of her kissing them over and over and apologizing for leaving them and then kissing them both ten more times before we could even walk out the door.  At least she doesn’t make too much of a scene when I leave our house with them.  As soon as I see her eyes start to fill with tears, I do the whole, “Oooh look, a butterfly!” and then turn and run.  I would have made it to the car too if Veronica wasn’t so slow.  I need to practice some wind sprints with that kid for situations like this.

I get back home and pull into the driveway, and when I get out of the car, the new guy who moved in across the street is taking his garbage out and lifts his hand in a wave.  I wave back and wonder if the dude even owns a shirt.  Every time I’ve seen him outside since he's moved in, he’s been half naked.  It’s a disgrace to the neighborhood.  Especially since everyone on this street knows I’m the one who looks the best doing yard work without a shirt.  Some people just don’t know their place.

Walking through the front door, I check myself in the mirror in the front hall.

Damn, I look good.  Screw naked guy outside. I’ve got it going on.

I straighten my hair and smooth the front of my date night shirt that says: I fuck on the first date.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jenny in the mirror and turn around, my eyes bugging out of my head.  She’s wearing a short, red strapless dress with her hair piled up on top of her head, and a pair of red, strappy sandals that are so high I’m surprised she can walk in them.  She looks so hot I can already feel myself getting a chubby.

“Holy fuck, baby.  You look awesome,” I tell her as she walks up to me and smiles.

“Thanks.  I haven’t fit into this since before Veronica was born.”

She grabs her purse and we head out the door, my eyes never leaving her ass.

I am so getting lucky tonight.

~

“Oh my gosh, remember that time you went down on me during my cousin’s wedding?” Jenny asks as she finishes off her fourth glass of wine and leans closer to me so our shoulders are touching.

After her second glass of wine, she starts getting chatty, just like old times.  Whenever we used to go out before we had Billy, we would always wind up talking about our sex life.  We had an amazing sex life.  I used to think about Jenny and I doing some sort of seminar for loser married couples who only have sex to get pregnant.  I had always thought we would be the best people to teach others about how much fun you could have in the bedroom.  We could use props and I could make a flow chart.  Listening to her talk about our fun times makes me realize how UN-fun our times have been lately.  Hopefully not for much longer.

“Oh my gosh, remember that night we played Monopoly and every time someone landed on Park Place one of us had to have an orgasm?” she asks as she puts her hand on the back of my neck and runs her fingers through my hair.

“That was the best game of Monopoly ever.  Didn’t we have to throw the board away because we got ketchup and hot wax all over it?” I ask her, trying not to pant like a dog as her nails lightly scratch the back of my neck.

“Yep.  And we had to use nail polish remover to get the play money off of your ass when we played ‘Pin the money on Drew’ with the wax.  Best night ever,” she whispers in my ear.

The hard on I’ve had since she had walked out of the bedroom in the red dress is now a full blown state of emergency.  One more story about our past sexcapades and I’m going to need to shut this restaurant down, and the waiters will need to put on Hazmat suits.

“What about that time when we first moved in together at your old place when the neighbors used to sell honey at a road side stand in their front yard?” she asks softly close to my ear.

I’m going to come in my pants in three seconds.

I clear my throat and shift in my seat, trying to move Big Drew around a little so I’m not so uncomfortable.

“Ha, they formed a neighborhood watch because they thought there was some huge conspiracy where people were stealing honey to sell it on the black market,” I remember with a laugh.

“I never understood that.  Why would they think only black people want honey?” she asks in confusion.

I don’t even think about correcting her because I don’t want anything to ruin this good mood she’s in.

“I wonder how many bottles of honey we actually stole that month.  It had to be close to a hundred.”

She smiles and nods, placing a soft kiss on my cheek before pulling back to continue with the memory.

“That last night was a fun night until we spent a little too long on foreplay and the honey started to dry and get sticky.  It was like giving you a Brazilian wax to get that stuff off!”

We both laugh and move a little bit away from each other as the waiter comes to our table and steps in between us to place the check on the table.

“I still have that scar on my ass from when you had to help pull me off of the tree.  I don’t care though.  That was the best blow job ever.  Well, aside from the shower one on our first date.”

We sit there quietly for a few minutes staring into each other’s eyes, and I am trying to force all of my thoughts into her head.

You want to bang me, you want to bang me, you want to bang me.

“I want to bang you,” she states.

My brain is an awesome and powerful thing.

I throw all of the money in my wallet down on the table without even looking at the bill.  I’m pretty sure I just gave our waiter a seventy percent tip, but I don’t give a fuck.  I grab Jenny’s hand and together we run to the exit and out into the parking lot.

~

In hindsight, trying to have sex in our four-door, compact car in our own driveway probably isn't the best idea.  But after Jenny spends the fifteen minute drive from the restaurant back to our house with her hand down my pants, rubbing me one second away from orgasm, I can’t even think about opening the car doors and going inside.  I turn off the engine, hit the button to move my seat back as far as it will go, grab Jenny around the waist, and haul her over the center console and onto my lap.

With her legs straddling me, I slide my hands up her thighs and push her dress up to her hips, realizing she isn’t wearing any underwear.

“You’re wearing my favorite clear pair of panties,” I tell her as I slide my hands around her hips and onto her bare ass.

“I wore them just for you,” she says with a smile as she leans forward and runs her tongue along my top lip.

I reach between us to unbutton my pants, freeing my dick and feeling quite proud of myself that I too chose to go commando this evening.

With one hand still clutching her ass, I pull her down so I can rub the head of my cock against her.  She’s wet and warm and even though she hasn’t shaved down there since before Billy was born, I don’t give a fuck.  I love her pussy whether it’s smooth or has a porn bush fro.  As I use my hand to glide myself back and forth through her, she starts to move her hips to create more friction, and we both moan against each other’s mouths.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby.  I wanna fuck you like an animal.”

She stops the movement of her hips and pulls her face away from mine.

“Don’t quote Nine Inch Nails when we’re about to have sex.  It’s creepy.  I don’t want to think about animals having sex.  Remember that time we saw my cousin’s dogs having sex?  Oh my God, I had nightmares for weeks.  I kept dreaming we would have sex and your penis would be stuck inside me until you finish like those stupid dogs,” Jenny complains.

“Sorry, no more animals fucking talk.  Let’s just talk about us fucking.  Right now.  In the car,” I tell her as I move the head of my penis to her opening and push my hips up slightly so I enter her just a little bit.

“Son of Al Sharpton,” I moan as she pushes her body down a little more and I go deeper.

Jenny doesn’t hesitate to slide the rest of the way down on my cock, and I have to squeeze my eyes shut so I don’t blow my load right this second.

She grips onto my hair and yanks me towards her mouth.

“You’re such a dirty whore,” I mutter against her lips.

She stops and pulls back to look at me again.  “Eew, don’t say that.”

I look at her in confusion for a minute.  She’s always thought that was hot.  In the past, she usually begs me to call her a dirty whore.  I want my dirty whore!

“It’s just weird.  I’m a mom now,” she explains.

“You were a mom the last time I called you a dirty whore,” I complain with a pout.

I know, I know.  My penis is finally home and I’m complaining.  But you don’t understand!  This is our thing!  She’s my dirty whore and I’m her big, bad slut.

“Just…I don’t know, do it normal.  Call me Jenny and I’ll call you Drew.”

Normal?  What the fuck is normal?!

“What?  But that doesn’t even make sense!  We’re not normal.  We’re dirty and filthy, and I don’t know what is going on right now!”

I think my penis is dying.  I’m inside my wife’s vagina and I’m starting to go soft.  No, no, no!  This is NOT happening right now!

“Can’t we just have vanilla sex?” she asks as she leans back from me as far as she can while I’m still inside of her.

“Vanilla is white!  WE’RE NOT WHITE!  We’re…fuck!  We’re Napoleon or whatever the fuck the three colored one is.  We’re fucking Superman or the chocolate kind with peanut butter in it.  I don’t even know what vanilla means!  WHAT DOES IT MEAN?”

I know I’m yelling while my wife is on top of me, naked from the waist down but this is a complete and utter mind fuck right now.

“You’re not hard anymore,” she tells me as she looks down where we’re still, sort of, joined.

GAAAAAH I’m not listening!  I’m not listening!  I’m always hard!  I’m hard when I’m grocery shopping in the frozen food section.  Son of a motherless goat!

“Quick, call me a slut.  HURRY!” I yell.

“I’m not calling you a slut.  This was a bad idea,” she says as she lifts herself off of my wilted willy and crawls over to her side of the car, pulling her dress down as she goes.

NOOOOOOOO bring it back !

Jenny opens her car door and gets out, and I stare down at my limp dick in disgust.

“You are a disgrace to all of penis kind. That’s what you are.  You couldn’t just keep it up for like five more minutes.  Oh no, you had to be a quitter.  QUITTERS NEVER WIN!”

I angrily shove my dick back in my pants and get out of the car and come face-to-face with Mr. Naked Guy from across the street.