A VERY Quick Quickie

You’d think that because I’m a woman, I’d be all for a lot of foreplay, touching, and general tending when it comes to sex. Granted, there are some times when this frying pan needs a red-hot poker to fire me up, but on the other hand, sometimes all that’s needed is a quickie.

Men are, without a doubt, the Lords and Masters of Fast Sex. Men can get an erection by the mere thought of women. The woman need not be a curvy computer-enhanced photograph from Playboy. Of course, most men can get an erection thinking of just about anything; a Corvette, hairbrushes, ice cream cones, hot dogs, their spouses slaving over a hot sink washing dishes… (That last one belongs to my man. I see nothing erotic with the way I wash dishes, but obviously I’m missing some magic mojo that I don’t even know I possessed.)

My house is currently filled with children and their significant others. This is what happens when the holidays bring them back to the nest like the hungry homing pigeons they are. (An aside, my little birdies are eating us out of  house and home. There will be some measure of relief when we drop the older ones off at the airport on Sunday, as the grocery and water bills will take a nosedive into normalcy.) A houseful of people is not conducive to consummating one’s undying love with one’s spouse. This is dangerous territory; don’t try it at home. Trust me on that one.

Since both children and their significant others are spending their first holidays together, there’s a lot of lovey-dovey-smooching-and-groping going on. This is cute to me, but my husband finds his libido on overdrive. He wants some action. I can’t decide if it is just the mere mention of sex, or if he’s in some kind of perverted competition with my son. (We are trying to ignore the little one. At 17, she doesn’t need any prompting. I maintain that I’m too young to be a grandma. I have noted, however, that her boyfriend has been exceedingly more demonstrative during this time. I have to think his male ego is in competition as well.)

After a week of being perpetually cut off, I decided to take matters into my own hands. For those of you who are unaware, THIS POST explains that my husband and I don’t really have sex in the marital bed. We usually have sex at the office. In case you don’t know me, that is because we own the business as well as the office building. Being the boss does have its perks, which comes in handy, because this woman has needs!

Today, as I was leaving for work, fully intent on bagging my husband upon my arrival, I noticed that my kitten had taken my knitting and wrapped the entire family room in a kitty-spider-web of gigantic proportions. It took me almost a half an hour to extricate my daughter, who was sleeping on the couch beneath the web totally unaware.

By the time I got to the office, I had a whole four and a half minutes to do the deed. “Take your clothes off, NOW!” took on an entirely new meaning, and if Guinness has a speed record for disrobing, we probably are contenders. We were both ice cold from the drive in. (It’s so close to the house that the car never heats up.) It was the first time we’d made love not using our hands and in four minutes flat.

It was a VERY quick quickie, indeed.

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