Friday, May 23, 2008
One morning not long ago, we were – ehm – exploring the realms of tenderness (as couples with babies do once every four months or so). We were foolishly spending some time on foreplay. Foolishly, because every minute counts when you've got a two-feet-terrorist about to wake up and scream for food any moment now.
Mrs.B. moaned, but unfortunately not because I was doing such a great job. 'Your hands are like sandpaper', she snapped. It seemed I was almost scraping away her skin. Some people, who like to dress up in black leather and latex may think that's very erotic, but Mrs.B would have none of it.
It seems I'm taking that rebuilding-the-house thing a bit too serious, I'm turning into a regular bricklayer. But at least now I know what that tube of lubricant is for.