The Husband and I have been together for the better part of a decade. Yet, sometimes, he seems to revert back to teenager mode, and do stupid things. I want to ask him what he's thinking when he does some of these things. For instance...
- My tits are not balls of dough. There should be no hard kneading involved; especially after I ovulate because they are the most sensitive things in the world after that. The jiggle that happens when I walk down the stairs is enough to hurt them, so please, no kneading.
- Saying stupid things like, "You kind of need to trim things up a bit". Shut. Up. There needs to be 4-6 weeks in between waxing appointments, and I can't trim it super short or else the wax can't hold on to the hair as well. Deal with it, in a few days, it will be smooth again.
- Pretending like you're giving me a back rub, then migrating to either my boobs or cooter. Do it right! When I say my shoulders are tight, I don't mean my boobs. When I say my lower back hurts, that doesn't mean my cooter. If you give me a proper back rub, then I'll consider your advances.
- When you try to have sex with me when I'm sick. I know I stay sick forever when I get a cold, but when my nose is stuffy, I don't want to be stuffed. That's just how it is.
I think I'll turn this into a Powerpoint presentation for The Husband.
Thank you, Housewife. See more of her posts here.
BTW, after I ran the bad sex moves contest, several people asked me what bad sex move I'd experienced. Okay, here goes: I once (briefly!) dated a guy who exclaimed "Hoo Boy!" during sex.
Yes, I know. One should be free and uninhibited during sex and all that. But if lack of inhibitions leads to "Hoo Boy"-yelling, it's time for self-protective inhibitions to kick in.
But that's just according to me. As I learned after being reprimanded by an angry furry, one person's Sexy Tiger Lover is another's weirdo-in-a-sweaty-ass-tiger-costume-with-alarmingly-situated-groinal-flaps.
Who knows, maybe the person who's with Mr. Hoo Boy today is at her desk this very second, reliving the feverish night before when her man shouted "Hoo Boy!" during the throes, and shivering with a secret thrill of delight. "Hoo...boy," she whispers to herself, dreamily twisting a loose strand of hair around her finger.
So, gentle reader, I wish for you sweet dreams of whatever it is that does it for you, whether it be fevered kisses in the night, furry tiger penises or, hell, reruns of What's Happening!! Though maybe not a combination of all three. Unless it's that one where Rerun does that cool dance.
BTW, after I ran the bad sex moves contest, several people asked me what bad sex move I'd experienced. Okay, here goes: I once (briefly!) dated a guy who exclaimed "Hoo Boy!" during sex.
Yes, I know. One should be free and uninhibited during sex and all that. But if lack of inhibitions leads to "Hoo Boy"-yelling, it's time for self-protective inhibitions to kick in.
But that's just according to me. As I learned after being reprimanded by an angry furry, one person's Sexy Tiger Lover is another's weirdo-in-a-sweaty-ass-tiger-costume-with-alarmingly-situated-groinal-flaps.
Who knows, maybe the person who's with Mr. Hoo Boy today is at her desk this very second, reliving the feverish night before when her man shouted "Hoo Boy!" during the throes, and shivering with a secret thrill of delight. "Hoo...boy," she whispers to herself, dreamily twisting a loose strand of hair around her finger.
So, gentle reader, I wish for you sweet dreams of whatever it is that does it for you, whether it be fevered kisses in the night, furry tiger penises or, hell, reruns of What's Happening!! Though maybe not a combination of all three. Unless it's that one where Rerun does that cool dance.
