One day last week I was feelin’ a bit horny so I text’d Roy our code for sex, “Come home and take out the trash.”
He came home, ate supper, took a bath, and went to bed… no sex! He was too tired.
So the next day I had things to do in town. While at Hellmart, outta the corner of my eye I spy one hot guy! And add that my Facebook status… “Holy Crap! That Hellmart mechanic is hot! I need a lube job!”
Over supper, Roy and I discussed the day and I asked him about a TV for the bedroom and if he got my text about it. NO! Crap! I really want a new TV for the bedroom. But he said, “I did get a text about a mechanic and you needin’ a lube job!”
I just smiled.
Later he while he was takin’ his bath, he called out to me, “do you want my bath water?”
“not if you farted in it!”
Which starts the whole conversation about fecal matter and his shit/gas separator and there wouldn’t be any fecal matter in the tub… we have this whole argument about fartin’ in the tub all. the. time.
When he did finally get out and was dryin’ off, he said, “in 30 minutes, I’m gonna give you a lube job. And you better be ready!”
OH YEAH!! I went to the bedroom to “prep” with Hitachi my Japanese boyfriend.
30 minutes later Roy comes into the bedroom and says, “close your eyes and pretend I’m the sexy hot mechanic coming to lube you up.”
OH YEAH!!! Put me in coach, I’m ready to play!!
So we’re engaged in passionate love makin’… or freaky pretend role playin’… whatever… when I suddenly have the urge to fart.
NO! NOT! NOW!
I have my butt cheeks clenched together hopin’ that will keep me from blowin’ Roy’s balls off.
It just keeps buildin’ up. No matter how tight I clinch, it’s not goin’ away!!!
NO! NO! NO!
And if he’s willin’ to not fart in the bath tub or the swimmin’ pool, then I can refrain from fartin’ durin’ sex!!
And then I have the most horrible thought! What if my shit/gas separator doesn’t work properly?!
NO! NO! NO!
So I put my hands on Roy’s chest and push. Buck my hips in odd ways all while still clenchin’ my butt cheeks together. Well, Roy, bless his heart, thinks that I’m really… REALLY… gettin’ into it and he shifts into overdrive.
Which makes matters worse! But my one savin’ grace, is that in overdrive, there is so much slappin’ noise being made that if a little gas slips out he won’t hear it.
Thankfully, Elvis sings Viva Las Vegas and I can relax most of my body… not my butt cheeks.
Roy is happy he got to take out the trash.
And what little dignity I have is still intact.
Seriously Shawn and Impulsive Addict