Thanks to everyone who hits the little heart button and likes my posts on here or who leave nice and insightful comments, I really appreciate you.
To the dude who replied to my last post via email and said that he was here for filthy stuff, not a mommy blogger, you can get bent, I’ll write what I want.
On an aside, if you’re looking for some unadulterated filthy writing by yours truly, then you can head on over to Medium where I published this very naughty story yesterday.
Seriously, it’s absolutely some of the spiciest stuff I’ve ever written.
Yesterday, I took the time to relax from the past week because it just was terribly stressful and tiresome.
I made myself a giant pitcher of Strawberry daiquiri, put on a bikini, plunged in the pool, and sat out in the hot sun drinking. Being a small woman, slamming back alcohol, and sitting out in the bright sunshine, is a recipe for getting your buzz on quite quickly.
By dinner time when everyone started getting home, I was half pickled… Ok, maybe 3/4 pickled. Either way, there was a good pickling going on.
I managed to make it through dinner, get the girls to bed, and then strip off and collapse onto my bed at the old lady hour of 9pm. Jamie was in bed reading, I think I tried to tickle his junk, but it didn’t really happen, and I passed out.
I was fast asleep and I woke up to this little hand tugging at my shoulder and whispering in my ear, “Mommy, I’m sick.”
It was Ms8.
I looked over at the clock and it was 11:04pm, Jamie was fast asleep, and it took me a few seconds to come around.
“Mommy, wake up… I don’t feel well, I’m going to be sick.”
I reached over and caressed the back of her head, “Me too, kiddo.”
After collecting my thoughts, I slid out of bed, grabbed a dressing gown and guided her into the bathroom out in the hallway near the girls’ rooms. I was being the good wife and letting Jamie sleep, so I closed the door to our bedroom behind me as I left.
Normally, when kids say they’re sick, they generally just woke up and need you to get them back to sleep, but Ms8 looked grey, so we made the beeline to their bathroom.
We barely made it inside when all hell broke loose. She made for the toilet, and despite still not having slept off my buzz, I moved with lightning speed and managed to grab ahold of her beautiful long hair and pull it away from her face and the toilet, just as she commenced her prayers to the porcelain gods.
One of the unanswered questions of medical science that every parent of small children wonders about it, “How can a person so small, expel that much vomit and bile? Where does it come from? Where are they storing it?”
I rubbed her back, held her hair, and told her everything was going to be just fine. This was a preview of what university would be like for her after a few too many shots on an empty stomach while trying to look cool for some guys. Maybe I was projecting a little bit.
I got her to rinse her mouth out and brush her teeth when she was done. We then went back to her bed and I crawled in with her until she fell asleep. Once she’d drifted off, I made my way back to my own bed and re-commenced passing out.
When I woke up, Jamie was already gone downstairs and I texted him for an update. Ms5 was ok, she hadn’t caught whatever Ms8 had, and they were eating breakfast.
He sent me back, “Want some eggs?”
I wanted to hurl, I was really hungover and tired.
My parents were coming over with a bit pot of “Lizbet’s Lifeline” because I’d planned for this hangover and my dad was making me my special cure. I crawled out of bed, put on my dressing gown, and made my way downstairs to see what the state of play was.
Ms5 was perfectly fine, she was running around like a wildling from Game of Thrones with her hair askew and a mad look in her eye. Ms8 was still in bed, so I filled Jamie in on what went on last night, and decided that I need a shower in an attempt to regain human form.
I basically stood under the hot water and let it pour over me. I think I used some body wash, but I couldn’t be bothered washing my hair. After about fifteen minutes, I figured that was as close as I was going to get to washing away the hangover, so I hopped out of the shower.
As I got out, Jamie appears in the bathroom. I’m standing there, naked and dripping getting ready to dry myself and he’s looking like some kind of extra in a movie about a killer virus.
He was wearing a surgical mask, rubber gloves, and what I could best describe as a slaughterhouse apron. I have no idea where the apron came from, I’d never seen it before.
“I just cleaned the girls’ bathroom.”
“Jamie, she had a stomach bug, not ebola.”
He wandered off out of the bathroom and I dried myself a bit unsure of what he actually meant by “cleaned”. Looking at him, he could have given the toilet a quick clean with some White King, or perhaps gone full Dexter, I had no idea.
I walked out of the bathroom, my hair still wet and unbrushed, and wrapped in a towel.
“You were pretty sexy all naked and wet.”
Thanks, impotent husband. You want to have sexy talk with me while I have one kid passed out sick, the other behaving like an extra from Lord of the Flies, I have a massive hangover, and you just looked like you might dismember my body and put it in barrels of solvent.
I just gave him a look of, “Come on, man. Get your damn act together.”
Anyway, the rest of the day has gone pretty well. Ms8 is feeling fine, Ms5 has a concrete stomach so she’s good, and my dad brought over my hangover meal which sorted me right out.
I spent most of the day dipping into the pool and then sunning myself. I figured the bright sun would cook whatever toxins were left in my system.
Midway through the afternoon, my mother came out poolside and said, “Betty, would you like a glass of white or maybe a Gin and Tonic?”
I nearly barfed right in the pool.
Irrespectively, the day is now just about done. The girls had a full day of swimming and running around with their dad and grandfather chasing them, so they passed out and went to bed at 8pm.
Jamie followed suit, and I stripped off and crawled in beside him. I tried a number of tricks to see if I could get him physically aroused, but it wasn’t happening tonight, so I decided to come down to the home office and do some writing.
Nights like this are hard. I’m in the mood, but Jamie just can’t perform. I know his failure in this area is tough on him, so when I’m testing out whether he’s going to physically respond, I make light of the whole thing to keep it very playful.
But it’s disappointing on a night like this. I could really go for him rolling on top of me and just stabbing away for a few minutes. I’m not looking for wild orgasms or anything like that, I just want him to have sex with me, enjoy himself, finish, and then we can both just lie there quietly until we fall asleep.
That’s the most frustrating part. I’m able to get the kind of sex that makes my eyes roll back in my head, but some times what I want is the mediocre kind with my husband where we just top off the weekend with him filling me up.
Oh well, if my form is correct, tomorrow I’m going to wake up horny and in need of some companionship and adult entertainment, so that should make for an interesting Monday, to say the least.
Beth,
Stick to what you are writing. It is sensational. Mummy blogger you are not. The idiot who emailed you doesn't get that you have a real career in a serious profession and a great family. That alone makes your writing special.
He is probably 57, still lives with his mummy, and works in the food delivery industry.
A little thinking would have led idiot email guy to the reasonable conclusion that , hey, maybe Beth had some real work to do last week, and didn't have time for an a filth laden magnum opus every day.
Those of us read your articles in both forums probably figured you might get around to a post about your anal experiences sooner or later. We should have known that you would shoot the lights out :).
Mismatched libidos and a lack of interest in sex and other forms of intimacy, whatever their cause, are the bane of a married life where everything else is near perfect. I can sense that sadness within you as these words were being committed to print. Please accept my condolences. I have had to deal with similar feelings for some time. It is horrible at times - it probably feels like rejection, even when it is not.
That being said, I haven't seen or heard of anyone who has worked around it as well as you. Most of the guys I know who tried got busted, then divorced. At least you have a pass and can use that as cover. It should also assuage your conscience somewhat.
I think it is also easier for an attractive woman with your time management skills and approach to keep up a male harem that doesn't take up too much time, and that doesn't either eventually break the bank, or lead to some awkward questions at home about money. Women are, understandably, much more demanding when on call for such fun, and expect much more of a gentleman than to simply split a day rate hotel expense.
Small mercies, I know, when you need tending. Hope the week is good to you.