"But baby, that used to turn you on..."
I remember, back in the day, before my husband was married to me, when he was just a guy I was "seeing" and I was a legitimate sized 2, there were certain things I'd do that would just drive him absolutely WILD!
See, when we were dating, I lived in Lake Charles, Louisiana, a little small country town that was about two hours away from where he lived in Houston. This means we only saw each other on the weekends or occasionally, we’d have a late night rendezvous during the week. So he was always "excited" to see me! There was nothing I didn't do or didn't wear that would send him into the heavens. Honey, he was hot and horney for me. But now that I'm old news, and we're an old married couple (it's only been three years; I told him last night, we should still be "honeymooning"; but he told me, it's like "dog years", so instead of three years of being happily married, it feels like 21), the stuff that used to entice my husband now irritates him.
For instance, last night, I was in the tub taking a hot bubble bath after Andrew went down to sleep. He walked in the bathroom on me to ask a question about Andrew's doctor's appointment from earlier in the day and a prescription he needed to pick up. I started batting my eyes and running my fingers through my hair, when I asked with a coy grin, "Would you like to bathe me?"
My husband had a look on his face like he had just stepped in dog poo in his new Ferrigamo loafers. "Why would I want to do that?" he asked, "Your arms hurting or something?"
"No," I said sternly, "I just thought you used to enjoy bathing me. That would lead to hot bubbly bath sex. But I guess those days are over."
"You're damned right!" Shawn said with an attitude, and with that, he headed downstairs for a beer.
Now, back in the day, when I lived in Louisiana and he was in Houston, I'd hide little pairs of my sexiest underwear in his car. He'd routinely go in the glove box or in his center console, and find a pair of size 2 lace thongs or something with satin on it. Oh honey, I was a sex kitten and a brick house, don't let the post-momma belly fool you!
So a few weeks back, I took a pair of my undies out to Shawn's car and hid them in the glove box. Don't you know I was too shame one day when he was using that same pair of underwear out in the garage as a shop towel? He was doing some work on his car and was using it to clean off the dip stick so he could read the fluid levels or something on his transmission!
But the worst happened last month, I had justbeen tortured to the day spa and gotten my sexy bikini wax. Now you want to talk about seeing a man go coo coo for Cocoa Puffs, you hang around my husband when I'm less than six hours off the hot wax table--his tongue is dragging the floor! I always joked that if he were slippin' into darkness and the doctors were trying to revive him and nothing else worked, they could just pull out a tub of hot wax, and he'd sit STRAIGHT up! That totally turns him on.
Anyway, so I just got my bikini wax, I put on my sexy undies and a cute little top and I'm strutting around the house following him everywhere he went--from the garage to the kitchen. He had NO idea, didn't notice and could care less; in fact, he told me to go and "put some clothes on" in case Andrew wakes up! He then went into the restroom to shave and get ready for work the next morning. So he's all lathered up and he's got the razor in his hand, the bathroom is steamy because he has the hot water running. I'm thinking to myself "Here is my chance!" so like a scene out of a movie, I walk in with sexy lingerie on. I stand there with my hand on my hip and politely put one leg up on the face bowl in the sink while the other leg is planted firmly on the floor. I thought to myself, "This is going to do it. The mood is right. It's steamy; I'm sexy, just got my bikini wax. The restroom is all steamed up; looks like fog! He’s going to be all over me like a cheap suit. Like white women on OJ. Like PETA on Michael Vick!"
My husband snorts, looks at me and asks, "What is wrong with you? Have you had your medicine?"
Ain't that a bitch?
See, when we were dating, I lived in Lake Charles, Louisiana, a little small country town that was about two hours away from where he lived in Houston. This means we only saw each other on the weekends or occasionally, we’d have a late night rendezvous during the week. So he was always "excited" to see me! There was nothing I didn't do or didn't wear that would send him into the heavens. Honey, he was hot and horney for me. But now that I'm old news, and we're an old married couple (it's only been three years; I told him last night, we should still be "honeymooning"; but he told me, it's like "dog years", so instead of three years of being happily married, it feels like 21), the stuff that used to entice my husband now irritates him.
For instance, last night, I was in the tub taking a hot bubble bath after Andrew went down to sleep. He walked in the bathroom on me to ask a question about Andrew's doctor's appointment from earlier in the day and a prescription he needed to pick up. I started batting my eyes and running my fingers through my hair, when I asked with a coy grin, "Would you like to bathe me?"
My husband had a look on his face like he had just stepped in dog poo in his new Ferrigamo loafers. "Why would I want to do that?" he asked, "Your arms hurting or something?"
"No," I said sternly, "I just thought you used to enjoy bathing me. That would lead to hot bubbly bath sex. But I guess those days are over."
"You're damned right!" Shawn said with an attitude, and with that, he headed downstairs for a beer.
Now, back in the day, when I lived in Louisiana and he was in Houston, I'd hide little pairs of my sexiest underwear in his car. He'd routinely go in the glove box or in his center console, and find a pair of size 2 lace thongs or something with satin on it. Oh honey, I was a sex kitten and a brick house, don't let the post-momma belly fool you!
So a few weeks back, I took a pair of my undies out to Shawn's car and hid them in the glove box. Don't you know I was too shame one day when he was using that same pair of underwear out in the garage as a shop towel? He was doing some work on his car and was using it to clean off the dip stick so he could read the fluid levels or something on his transmission!
But the worst happened last month, I had just
Anyway, so I just got my bikini wax, I put on my sexy undies and a cute little top and I'm strutting around the house following him everywhere he went--from the garage to the kitchen. He had NO idea, didn't notice and could care less; in fact, he told me to go and "put some clothes on" in case Andrew wakes up! He then went into the restroom to shave and get ready for work the next morning. So he's all lathered up and he's got the razor in his hand, the bathroom is steamy because he has the hot water running. I'm thinking to myself "Here is my chance!" so like a scene out of a movie, I walk in with sexy lingerie on. I stand there with my hand on my hip and politely put one leg up on the face bowl in the sink while the other leg is planted firmly on the floor. I thought to myself, "This is going to do it. The mood is right. It's steamy; I'm sexy, just got my bikini wax. The restroom is all steamed up; looks like fog! He’s going to be all over me like a cheap suit. Like white women on OJ. Like PETA on Michael Vick!"
My husband snorts, looks at me and asks, "What is wrong with you? Have you had your medicine?"
Ain't that a bitch?
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