We were NOT supposed to have sex.
I was absolutely adamant that I was too tired to have sex. I didn’t get back from work until 6pm, having got to school at 7am. I had cooked dinner (read: put frozen chicken bits and chips in the oven and turned it on). I hadn’t showered in 3 days. My hair smelled of children and paint and glue and other shit. My legs hadn’t seen a razor for a week, my vag even longer. I had crusty mascara in the corners of my eyes. My eyeliner was smudged. My skin was greasy. We hadn’t had sex for a month. I was actually, tehcnically, a virgin again.
But Dave was adamant. We were having sex.
I pointed out my hideousness to him. It didn’t put him off. He waggled his willy in my face whilst I tried to retreat into the corner of the sofa.
I reluctantly agreed that it would be perfunctory sex with no foreplay, blow jobs or hand jobs. He whined. I said tomorrow would be proper sex, once I’d showered and caught up on my sleep. I’d put in the effort then. But tonight, it will be shit sex. Take it or leave it.
(He’s a man, so of course he took it)
We went upstairs. I ordered him to lay on the bed and get hard. He accused me of being a bossy army major. I told him to shut up and get wanking. I went to the bathroom and took off my make up and brushed my teeth (that was the most effort I was going to make). By this point, I was literally a walking zombie.
I got back to the bedroom to discover Dave was expecting ME to give him a hand job and make him hard. WTF?! That wasn’t part of the agreement! Admittedly he hadn’t actually agreed to my terms, but still…
So I lay there on my front, using my left hand to massage a standard sized sausage into a Bratwurst. I had a little nap whilst I did it.
All of a sudden, I was hoiked up onto all fours and about to be pentrated from behind. This suited me fine as I could continue my little kip.
Only he couldn’t get in.
It had been that fucking long since we last had sex, my vagina had sealed up. I was a virgin again.
He plugged away god love him, like a teenager, but it wasn’t happening. We needed assistance.
In the darkness I reached for the bedside drawer for the KY. But in my bedside drawer there are also spare lightbulbs, old eczema cream, and an open packet of Bourbon biscuits (yes, I have no shame).
After eventually locating the KY, we were a-go. And MY GOD were we A-GO.
I was pummelled to oblivion and it was all over in 2 minutes. The poor boy said he hadn’t wanked in 4 days, bless him.
But after a month of no sex, it was like my inner core was realightened. I realised how much I had missed sex. And now with my half term here, I can indulge in lots of horny sex with my husband again.
Dave went to bed with the biggest grin on his face, knowing that I had promised him ‘proper indulgent sex with hand jobs and blow jobs galore’ tonight (I don’t think I actually said that Dave…)
I went to bed with his semen dripping out of me throughout the night, sleeping on an old bath mat, until I couldn’t tolerate it any more and went to the loo at 3am.
I also dreamed that I was having sex on a museum table and my parents accidentally walked in, followed by my brother, and then suddenly I was shagging a hot silver haired tanned 40 year old porn star in a neighbour’s house whilst Dave sat in the corner playing Call Of Duty telling us to ‘crack on’. What the fuck?!
If not having sex for a month gives me disturbing dreams like that, then I need to start putting out more.
(My parents are coming round for Sunday lunch tomorrow. Fuck knows how I’ll be able to look them in the eye after that dream…)