prev the family handyman next
2001-11-16 | 11:45 a.m.

I hate waiting for Duff to come to bed, because he never comes to bed. First I watched CSI on television, a show that made use of a sex fetish club, and then I stayed up wolfing down this low-middlebrow fantasy-adventure-romance novel called Outlander, which I have been meaning to read for years, and I got to the part where the time-traveling heroine gets spanked by the Scottish ruffian hero, and I started getting riled up, not so much because I have a thing for spanking (all the behaviors that I think of as "outside sex" seem faintly ridiculous to me, and I find it hard to transcend that quality of ridiculousness; it's a distraction), but because Duff takes a passing interest in it, and thinking of him getting riled up made me want to do something about it. Only where was he? On the damn computer, of course. So I argued with myself about whether to go downstairs and jump him or stay put, out of spite, especially since it was so late already. I knew I was going to have trouble getting up in the morning.

Eventually, lust triumphed and I marched downstairs and ambushed him. He was finishing up on the computer anyway and we ended up in the living room, searching for a good spot (there is never a good spot in our living room, unfortunately, but we are limited by the sleeping arrangements of our children).

Time passed. I got mine and ended up gripping the back of the couch. I noticed that it was squeaking and shuddering more than seemed safe and it occured to me that we could break the couch frame this way. But did I stop things? No. I decided to wait until afterward, then mention it. All of this thinking took place in a microsecond. Three good strong jolts later and the back end of the couch crashed rudely to the floor, as the foot in back---weakened by kids who will not stop jumping on the furniture when I'm not looking---collapsed.

Oops.

So we did what anybody would do: We kept going. Then afterward, Duff put on his briefs, went down into the garage, and hammered out the pin that connects the foot to the couch and reattached it. We're talking 1 a.m., and luckily, none of the kids woke up.

And no, I didn't get spanked.

prev archive next
0 comments