And on the 7th day… they had a stinking hangover and made a home movie πŸ˜‰

So it went a little like this…

Saturday night we went out. Like out out. With a group of mates. I had my legs out and my tits out. I wore heels for the first time in months. And I got so incredibly drunk. In a 5-Jagerbombs-1-Sambuca-shot-12-Archers-and-2-pints-of-other-lads’-Strongbows kinda way.

I needed to get drunk. Mostly because I really wanted to let my hair down (and boy did I do that haha), but I was also in the company of somebody who is 6 months pregnant and had no issues with swigging cider and smoking all night. That REALLY boils my piss. I needed the alcohol to block out the pain. It was a risk, because when I get drunk I speak my mind with no filter. But the risk paid off. I kept my trap shut. I didn’t say what I really felt. I would have caused a scene otherwise. So I’m proud of myself for that.

But anyway.

It was an AMAZING night! And I’m looking forward to the next one at the end of the month.

But I’m not looking forward to the hangover. 

Yesterday’s hangover… well, the hangover didn’t actually kick in until after lunch because I woke up at 9am still drunk.

I shit you not my friends.

The problem is, it doesn’t matter how hungover I am, it doesn’t dampen my libido. I woke up horny, and was horny throughout the day. I even offered – OFFERED – to give Dave a blow job. I know! This normally only happens in my fertile week when I’m trying to bribe him for his sperm.

Of course he didn’t take much persuading so we scheduled it for later. After the housework was done. And we’d eaten Domino’s. Obviously.

Fast forward a few hours and I was casually upstairs, laid on the bed, with my legs akimbo and my camera phone pointing at my coochie.

Yes. You did read that right.

I’d gone completely bare on the Friday night in preparation for our night out and I was checking out if I needed to tidy up my lady parts or missed any bits. Seriously, I have no shame.

Well, because this is my life and the typically unexpected always happens to me, right at that precise undignified moment, Dave walks in.

Now the bastard insists he didn’t sneak up on me. Fuck off, he didn’t! He knows I’m deaf and he always likes to be a stealth ninja and scare me. God knows what he came upstairs to do – and he subsequently forgot himself when he saw what he saw – but the fact is, he did.

And there’s me. There. Like that. FML.

Well at least we both have a sense of humour. After about 10 minutes of hysterical laughter on the landing, we moved on with our lives.

Nevertheless, it must have turned him on, because about an hour later Dave texted me to ask if he could film me that night. I’d mentioned it a couple of weeks back as an idea to spice up the fertile window sex when it can feel like you’re just going through the motions.

Well I was game. It wasn’t anything we hadn’t done before. In the first couple of years of our relationship we made a whole catalogue of films on the many phones he went through. We used to watch them back. Then I got nervous about him losing his phones and somebody else accessing the footage so I made him delete them all. And he’s on his 347th phone since then anyway so the fact he’d deleted them is probably moot anyway.

Dave wanted me to show him all my sexy underwear for him to choose from (he picked white to contrast against my self-tan and blonde hair) and asked me to wear lots of the brightest lipstick I had.

So when we SHOULD have been getting an early night to recover from our hangovers and be fully rested for busy working weeeks that lay ahead of us, we actually were getting up to the most unholy of things on God’s Sabbath (we’re not religious – I’m being tongue in cheek).

Now we did a couple of videos (on MY phone – so I could keep them password protected and in control of them) but we were out of practice. The footage was quite dark, but you could make things out. So in the end we decided to put the phone away and just crack on with having fun.

Well what we didn’t realise, amongst Dave’s ineptitude to operate my phone properly, was that it was still recording. So while we thought it was laid on the side, it was picking up EVERYTHING.

It picked up the good (the sexy as hell noises), the bad (“shit not like that! That’s too fucking deep!”) and the ugly (“Dave get me my usual pants and pantyliner! Oh and one of the dirty towels from the laundry cos I’m already leaking!”)

Yeah, Pornhub won’t be knocking on our door anytime soon begging to buy our footage hahahaha.

The best bit was at the end when you can hear Dave pick up my phone and say “Shit, it’s been recording for the past 20 minutes!”

Well, naturally I listened back to it all, and it was hot. Dave could hear it from downstairs when I played it back (yeah, I was that loud) and he wanted me to send it to him.

Fortunately, the file is too large to send over Facebook messenger. And it’s probably for the best. Because the last time I sent something like this over Facebook I accidentally sent his mate a nude selfie. And his mate is still a ‘favourite’ in my most recent list. So I don’t think he’d appreciate a video to add to his collection… maybe haha.

I can guarantee, next week when the ‘scheduled sex’ begins, it’s going to be functional doggy again. It’ll still be fun, but it won’t be legs behind my head and cry at the end kinda fun.

That was last night. And that is the reality of trying to conceive.


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