Mid-thrust, Jenny lost her grip and her hand slipped, causing the toilet handle to push down, making the toilet flush.
“Well that was awkward,” I said as I continued what I was doing.
“Nope, not awkward at all,” bathroom man yelled back. “A courtesy flush is always a good idea.”
Even with this guy talking my ear off, Jenny felt so good that it was impossible to stop my orgasm from rushing up through my balls.
“YES! YES! YES!” I shouted with my head thrown back.
With one last thrust—that I will argue until my dying day wasn’t that hard— Jenny lost her balance on the toilet seat while I came, and one of her knees slipped down into the toilet with a loud splash. Water flew out of the bowl and all over the floor.
“Oops,” I said sheepishly as I shivered through the final seconds of my orgasm. I had pulled out of Jenny and backed away from her while she struggled and tried to get her knee out of the toilet, forcing more water all over the place.
“It’s okay, man, happens to the best of us,” the guy next door had admitted.
“Ain’t that the truth?!” I answered.
So, yeah. That’s the story of Veronica’s conception and now Jenny and I have to figure out how to break that news to her when she’s older. Maybe we can leave out the part of the spectator in the next stall over. And the part about never finding Mommy’s underwear when we had got back to the table. And how
Mommy fell in the toilet. You know what? I think we’ll just make something up.
Fuck, now I’m horny.
I glance at my watch and realize I’ve got some time before Billy will be up from his nap and Jenny will be home with Veronica. Normally, I’d go jerk off, but Drew junior is a little under the weather. Remember when you were little and your mom would tell you that if you whacked off too much you’d get hairy palms? That’s so not true. Believe me, I've tried to make it come true. I had thought it would be the coolest thing ever to have hands like Teen Wolf. Who needs a dog when you can pet your own hands? Michael J. Fox had no idea how good he had it. Anyway, it turns out, whacking off too much doesn’t cause hairy palms. It causes a raw, chafed dick. I’m blaming this all on Head and Shoulders. Stupid blue and white bottle that looks so friendly with its happy little green bubbles on the bottle. I had thought rubbing my love handle in the privacy of the shower with a little squirt of fresh-smelling shampoo the other day would be lovely. I mean, have you felt shampoo lately? It’s soft and soapy and smells like heaven. Plus, if it can give you silky, smooth hair. That should naturally mean it will give you a silky, smooth penis.
Folks, never, I repeat, NEVER, yank your wank with shampoo. It may sound like a good idea at the time; it may even FEEL like a good idea at the time. Just give it a few minutes and then your dick will turn into the fiery pits of hell. It will burn like Satan himself is breathing his fire breath on your Willy Wonka. Oh, and it will also feel like someone is chewing on your dick. With razor blades for teeth.
So, while my dick is on the mend, I think I’ll spend some quiet time thinking about ways to make my wife have dirty bathroom sex with me again.
Chapter 13 – Hiney Duck Hiss
Once a month, the six of us try to get together for a game night. We always say that one of these times we should all get babysitters so the evening doesn’t include stopping the game every few minutes to break up a fight between the girls and then forty-five minutes of screaming and crying at the end of the night when it’s time to leave. For some reason, the weeks in between game nights make us forget about the fact that we were supposed to get a babysitter. It isn’t until the first blood curdling scream comes from a bedroom or toy room that we remember.
Tonight we only have Veronica with us. Drew’s dad still feels bad about making me think he was a stalker so he’s offered babysitting services whenever we need it.
He had told me as we were leaving to make sure I let Liz know how nice he is for offering up his time for us. He also mentioned to stress the fact that he is doing this out of the goodness of his heart. Drew’s mom had called me the other day and said that whenever he leaves the house he runs as fast as he can to his car, gets in, and locks the doors.
I’m pretty sure Liz has scarred him for life.
We pull into Carter and Claire’s driveway and park behind Liz and Jim’s van.
“Honey, have you hugged your vagina today?” Drew asks me with a smirk as he turns off the engine and pockets the keys.
“Will you stop it with that? I already admitted that Dr. Madison was a bad idea. Stop reminding me,” I complain as I get out of the car and get Veronica unbuckled from the back seat.
Drew has been teasing me nonstop about our botched marriage therapy session. I don’t understand how I could have judged Dr. Madison so wrong.
“Didn’t you Google her or anything first? Find out what she was about?”
“Of course I did,” I say in exasperation as I grab Veronica’s hand and we walk up the driveway. “Her add in the newspaper said she was 'new age' and 'holyistic'. I didn’t understand the 'new age' thing. I figured she was just an older woman who wasn’t happy with getting older and instead of telling people her age, she just made up something called ‘new age’. Sort of like when babies are newly born. Or like, ‘How old are you?’ ‘Oh, I’m new age!’
And being holyistic, you would think that therapy session would have centered more around being holy and close to God. We could use some holyistic in our marriage. We haven’t been to church in years.”