Archive for Comunication

What’s all this about?

Posted in Fixing a broken marriage with tags , , , , on August 12, 2017 by Accidental Masturbator

I was drunk again. Happy drunk again. It had got me through an intense afternoon of school-holiday-child-care.  [Ed: Don’t worry, Concerned Reader. No children were at risk during the production of this blog post.] 

My Wife got home, I cooked supper and we sat down as a family to eat. Everyone was friends and all was going well, but at some point She decided to start waxing on about the down sides of alcohol and how it impairs judgement and lubricated tongues and how this is all undesirable. This was all pitched for Continue reading

Maybe I just don’t like pussy

Posted in Fixing a broken marriage, Sex with my wife with tags , , , , , , , , on December 3, 2012 by Accidental Masturbator

We’re both awake at 5am, and my Wife rolls over, wrapping Her arms around me.
Her : I got woken by strange dreams.
Me : What were yours about?
Her : I can’t remember. How about yours?
Me : This is going to sound weird …
Her : OK.
Me : … anxiety about forgetting keyboard shortcuts [on the software I use for work] and trying to convince you that the cheese counter of the supermarket isn’t the right place to buy sex toys …

I have a confession, Dear Reader.
I
was having an anxiety dream about QWERTY keyboards, but the bit about my Wife trying to buy a vibrator instead of large, ripe, blue veined Stilton … That was based on a dream I had ages ago, and I’ve wanted to tell Her about it ever since. But as we don’t casually chat about sex over lunch, and have never talked about sex toys, it wasn’t going to be easy to drop into conversation. Until now.

She strokes my chest, and we both know we’re going to fuck. I’ve not had a wank in something like a fortnight – maybe it’s more – it certainly feels like it. Because I know She wants to me to cum when we fuck, rather than needing Her to finish me off with Her hands, I’ve been hoarding my sperm, and trying to remind my genitals what they were designed for. And you know what, Dear Reader? I think it just might work, this time.

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