By Courtney R.
My husband is making some renovations on our home, getting it ready for a short sale. We laughed, we cried, all the big emotions that come with the impending loss of our crap container. This home makeover put us in a bind, we needed shelter quickly. My mother-in-law smelling blood in the water quickly snatches the opportunity to criticize my skills as a wife and mom. She offers us my hubby’s old childhood room, a small 10 foot by 8 foot room still reeking of Old Spice and pimple cream. My kids are overjoyed, for the next week they’ll be sugared and caffeinated, and doped up with nonstop cartoons. As I prepare for my subjugation in the land of the alpha-bitch the thought hits me, “A whole week without sex?”
I’m not a nymphomaniac by any means, I don’t have to have sex constantly, and I my dildo is not on a rechargeable cradle (although that would be a good idea). I do enjoy having some private time with the hubs for some quality slap and tickle. Being under the constant surveillance of “dear-‘ol-mom” is going to make any sort of conjugal visit improbable. Notice I wrote “improbable” not “impossible”. I’m a persistent little wench, especially when it comes to getting my steady dose of vitamin dick. As we pull into the driveway of my archenemy my mind concocts the perfect plan for getting some sweet lovin’ in the house that abstinence built.
The evening went much like I expected, the kids were given every indulgence under the sun, and after the hyper tantrums eased off they were sitting in front of the boob-tube totally labotimized. My husband laid sprawled out in front of the couch, aching from a day’s worth of tiling and grouting. I sat on the couch above him half-reading an article about gardening (an article that my mother- in-law circled to my attention). Under the flicker of the television I noticed my hubby’s rippling back muscles. I couldn’t resist running my foot up and down his back, sticking my big toe at the top of his belt loop tickling his coin slot. He giggled warmly into the rug as I continued to give him the once over with my tootsies.
Before I knew it I was getting steamy in all the right places and soon we exchanged “the look”. A smirk and a suggestive nod later, the kids were sent to bed, grandma offering to read the bedtime story (little did she know I had my own ideas for “tuck-in-time” with her big boy). Big hubs moves up to the couch wrapping a thick, well-toned arm around my shoulders. He smelled delicious, that mixture of musk and sweat, it made me salivate. It was all I could do but to rip off his clothes and ravish him like a sailor on shore-leave. Right before I could make my move, his dear ol’ ma showed up, “The little angels are asleep, what show should we watch before bed?”
Cockblocked, by a women who hasn’t known the touch of a man in many a moon. She planted herself right in between us, which couldn’t have been more awkward, especially for my hubby, I could still make out his waning boner in the moonlight. After an hour of the 700 club mommy was sawing logs her hand still resting on her son’s thigh. I got up and did my best seductive strut out of the room. I looked back at and licked my lips as I entered our sleeping quarters. I only made it to the count of three before I saw him rushing through the door. His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas as he found his lovely wife laying spread-eagle on his bed giving herself a nice rub and tug.
He kamikazeed my sweet spot without delay. I bit my lip hard trying not to let out even the smallest peep. Not that it mattered much, even if the pope himself came sauntering in, I’d tell him to pull up a chair and enjoy the show. Big hubs was in top form, he rounded all the bases, and didn’t spare an ounce on the detail work. I love having my ass worshipped and he practically built an alter right there on the bed. I reached out a trembling hand and turned off the lamp, because now it was time for some serious penetration. Wow, my toes still curl thinking about it. I rode the jackhammer for what seemed like an eternity, pounding away, bracing myself against the headboard with a Star Wars pillow. The Orgasm offramp came hurtling toward us. I couldn’t hold in the ecstasy any longer, I moaned loud, and long doing my best to muffle my moans into the comforter. Hubby did his best to remain quiet but ended up making an uncharacteristic little “squeak” as his load shot over my head and bullseyeing the picture of Chewbacca over the bed. We melted on the bed into sweet, satisfying slumber.
The next morning, his mother cooked up a large breakfast, overfeeding my children as usual. Hubby and I crept in and said our “good-mornings” to the group and mainlined our cups of joe. “What were you watching last night?” asked one of my sweet-faced children. “It sounded like a monster movie.” My mother-in-law glared at me as I smirked and replied, “Oh yes, it was quite a show.”