Troubles and Treats

There had been another time when I gave her a Wet Willy when she started coming. I hadn't meant for that to be hilarious. I read about it in Cosmo. When she had locked me out of the bedroom, I grabbed the magazine and realized two of the pages were stuck together - sex tips and practical jokes. Well played, Cosmo. Well played.

We leave the cuckoo doctor’s office with a promise to keep communicating with our reproductive organs. Unfortunately, I still have no f**king clue how that’s supposed to help get me laid.

Chapter 12 – Baby Bullets

Since cuddling our reproductive organs has done nothing to boost our sex life, there’s not much else for me to do except think back to a time when we were having sex. Man, those were the days. We had A LOT of sex. Like, a lot. Pretty sure it was impossible to even count that high. And f**k, was it good sex. Even when we were trying to get pregnant with Veronica it was good sex. You would think that since we pretty much used to have sex every single day, it would have been easy for us to get pregnant. I had always thought that shoving as much sperm up there as you could guaranteed you a baby.

I mean, it makes sense right? If you’ve got this little egg, and you just throw a handful of sperm at it, what are the chances that one will get through? But if you pour gallons and gallons of sperm all over it, that’s got to up your chances, right?

False! Those little white-tailed squirmy devils have serious attitude. It’s like they think they’re too good to fertilize an egg. Little bastards. You’ve got to trick them into submission. A sneak attack when they’re least expecting it.

“What, you say he’s going to put us through the tunnel while he’s on a Tilt-a-Whirl? Impossible!”

“I do declare he just shot us out of his cannon in a golf cart on the highway. Preposterous!”

You see? Listen to those stuck-up f**kers. They even talk like ass**les.

After eight months with no success in getting pregnant, instead of letting it get us down, we had just got creative. We had sex in a supply closet on the maternity floor of a hospital because Jenny thought it would bring us luck. It didn’t, but we got two bottles of Windex, three pairs of doctor’s scrubs, and a box of rubber gloves out of the experience. That was almost better than a baby!

Another time, Jenny had made a list of all of the couples we knew who either were currently pregnant or had already had a baby. We went down the list and had sex in their beds. She figured there must be some kind of magical power in their beds that made it so they could have a baby. Having sex in their beds would get some of that magic to rub off on us. Yeah, that didn’t work either. And let me tell you, Carter and Claire were not so agreeable with our magic dust plan. I still didn’t get what the big deal was. It wasn't like we had sex while they were in the house. We made sure to wait until they left for work. Geeze, give us a little credit. I still had a scar on my forehead from when Claire threw a lamp at my head. It wasn't our fault they decided to come home early. They should have just followed their normal schedules and none of that would have happened.

The next one was totally genius and all my idea. What has more sperm than it knows what to do with? Yep. A sperm bank. I made an appointment and then made my deposit. In my wife – booyah! I figured this place was getting people knocked up every single day, so there had to be some luck in that, right? Jenny was a little nervous at first. She said she was certain that little particles of sperm were floating in the air at that place, and she was nervous that a particle from someone else would get all up in her business, and then she’d give birth to a baby that wasn’t mine. Don’t worry though, we took precautions. We kept her lady bits completely covered until I was ready for my deposit, ensuring that my particles were the only ones getting inside. The nurse at that place wasn’t too happy when we came back out and I told her I had made the deposit in the wrong cup. Jenny also wasn’t too happy that I kept referring to her vagina as a cup for the next several months.

I had been a little sad my idea hadn't worked, but it was okay because we came up with something even better.

It’s a good thing and a bad thing the next experiment actually worked. I say bad just because some day Veronica is going to ask where she was conceived and were going to have to tell her in the men’s room at a Red Lobster. Jenny had read somewhere that lobsters were lackadaisical, which in her mind, meant they would boost our desire, thereby ensuring we got pregnant. I was pretty sure she was trying to say aphrodisiac, but I wasn't about to correct her when it meant I was going to get laid with a belly full of lobster and delicious Cheddar Bay Biscuits. Before the bill came, we excused ourselves from the table and sneaked into the women’s room. As soon as I saw the tampon machine on the wall, I turned around and walked right back out. I couldn’t concentrate on banging if I was thinking about the red vagina of pain. I grabbed Jenny’s hand and marched us over to the men’s room. The coast was clear; the urinals were empty and both of the stalls were unoccupied. I dragged her back to the handicap stall and got down to business.

“Fuck, you look so hot in that dress, baby,” I said softly as I slid my hands around her hips and grabbed her ass, pulling her against me.

“Do you think it’s unclean to do this in a bathroom? What if I get germs in my vagina?” Jenny asked nervously as she looked around the inside of the stall.

“You obviously have no idea how unclean my penis is if you’re asking me this,” I told her honestly as I slipped my hands under her dress, pushing it up past her hips. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">