** WARNING **
DO NOT READ THIS POST IF YOU ARE MY FATHER, OR ONE OF MY KIDS (you’ll be scarred! Scarred I tell ya!), OR RELATED TO ME IN ANYWAY… LEAVE THIS PAGE NOW IF YOU ARE AN IN-LAW (please don’t do this to me or yourself). SHUT DOWN YOUR COMPUTER AT ONCE IF YOU ARE EASILY EMBARRASSED, SENSITIVE, SQUEAMISH, UNABLE TO LOOK ME IN THE EYE AFTER READING JUICY DETAILS ABOUT SEX AND ESPECIALLY IF YOU DON’T LIKE THE WORDS WET, FUCK or PUSSY. SO PLEASE IF YOU DON’T HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR … LEAVE. NOW!
GET IT? GOT IT? GOOD!
Let’s break it down …. Sex, boffing, nookie, quickies, porking and poking, to a married woman, sometimes feels like a chore, a task, another domestic duty. It’s just something else a monogamous woman has to add to her mental, emotional and physical list of ‘pleasing’ others. It’s neither fun nor painful but just .. well .. just plain annoying, kinda like having to feed the kids. Every. Single. Damn. Night.
Rumpy-pumpy with an eager-to-please partner can be considered much like an internal examination, except it’s not happening every 2 years, it’s expected daily, twice daily for some! The type of internal I am discussing here is where a doctor, regardless of gender, shoves their hand ‘up there’ and cops a good feel for their own (medical) satisfaction. The only difference between doctor and your hubbies style is that the doctor is looking for anomalies, concerned for your health and wellbeing while the husband is frantically searching for the exclusive G-Spot, concerned for his sexual prowess and masterful carnal abilities… Nope, that’s not it sweetie, you’ve gone too far and now you’re scratching the back of my tonsils. It’s during these ‘internals’ with your man that you are likely to be flat on your back thinking “Are you done yet?” Or disapproving your sharp unmanicured fingernails or even after a few long minutes of thrusting you begin the desperate and silent prayer for one of the kids to wake up so he will have to hurry the fuck up and finish off.
Sex can sometimes mean your lady bits get rubbed like your man is polishing silverware. Really tarnished silverware. A really tarnished silver lamp. A really tarnished silver Genie lamp. Furiously rubbing that special lamp to make a magical Genie appear … From your vagina. Sometimes you wish that vulva Genie would indeed appear so you could make three wishes – the first wish being that he stops rubbing before he chafes your pubic bone. Sometimes sex involves lots of kissing – like they do in the movies …. Except it’s actually reality fucktard and it’s morning and your breath smells like someone’s shat in your mouth. And why do all this licking and kissing caper when we’ve just showered, gross! Now we smell like we are covered in shit-smelling-saliva! Second wish – breath mints and a cold shower – for him! Sometimes in the lead up to sex, your husband’s version of foreplay (which goes on all day) is a slap on the arse, a grope of the tits, a few rotatory swings of his dick and a suggestively asked question “So, how ‘bout it?” Wish three – fuck off!
For the minority of women that I know and have intimate discussions with, this all seems relatively normal. Normal to rate sex and chores on the same level – especially during a long term relationship. But I don’t dare speak for all women because I happen to personally know a few exceptions to this and they are real life, everyday women who are just absolutely crazy for a bit of horizontal hula. They’d be balls deep all day with their husbands if they didn’t have to work or eat or feed the fruit of their pounding loins. They’re like rabbits on viagra, they can’t get enough of the salami feeding the kitty! God bless their raging meat loving pussies! For me, though, sometimes I’d rather just go ahead and poke myself… In the eye… With an actual salami.
Hey while we are talking poking here’s a good tip to all men out there – when a woman says “make it quick” – mate you need to move that broomstick like a lightning bolt alright?! In-out, in-out, roasted? Good now get off us we’ve got shit to do.
Sex isn’t like in the movies and the only time it is remotely close to that passionate and consensual ecstasy is in your dreams… with Channing Tatum… and sometimes his wife or Pink. Sex is an avoidance. It’s women sneaking into bed, usually unsuccessfully, because even though he doesn’t hear the kids cry at night he can certainly hear the non-existent purr of your pussy. So many men whine about their wives not ‘putting out’ enough but hey princess, put out the washing, put the kids to bed, put your swinging dick back in your pants and maybe we might consider putting out more often but hey, probs not.
Disclaimer: I love my husband and in Australia he’d be known as a “decent shag”. He’s not selfish in the bedroom and likes to please which is sometimes his downfall coz when you’re not in the mood and he wants you to be in the mood things can really drag on. My husband hangs out the washing and he always puts the little kids to bed when he’s home. If only he could learn that slapping his willy on the end of the bed isn’t considered foreplay and as a reminder to all men dicks are ugly no matter which angle you look at them. I have days when I am actually very sexually attracted to my husband – then he starts chewing and then I just want to punch him in the face.
UPDATE: This is a story. Not a true story. This is not a narration of my sex life. This is an accumulation of stories told by many women, over many years, over many coffees, wines, tears, laughter and sometimes all of these things at once. It’s ok. I’m ok. He’s ok. We’re ok. Oh and before you comment or send me crazy arse threatening emails have a read of Part 2 and if you still feel inclined to freak out let me tell you right now …. I don’t care.