by Nathan Logan
Another long day of work at the ice cream factory; my hands were sticky and some kids fell in the strawberry churn. My wife had promised a candlelight dinner: caramelized apple stuffed chicken breast with fontina and bing cherries with red pepper cheesecake. It all sounded exotic. She talked about her day during dessert, but I wasn’t paying attention. The red pepper must’ve flipped a switch because I was horny after one bite. My wife ripped her shirt off right at the table, so I thought my chances were good. I backed her into the bedroom where we lost the rest of our clothes and she pounced me. After flickering her tongue in my ears she screeched, “Fuck me!” I was glad she didn’t bring God into the bedroom. “Oh, God!” she yelled. I turned her over and followed her instruction as best I could, even though the last time we engaged in The Congress of the Cow was twenty years ago. I was about to move into The Spinning Sex Swing when she gasped. I raised my head up. “What’s the matter honey?” Her eyes were focused on the window. “I think Jamie is outside our window,” she told me. “I don’t think so,” I said. “Jamie has been out all week.” “You know Jamie?” she said. “Yeah, I’ve told you about him before dear,” I said. “We share the same locker at work.” “How about that?” she said.
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