I Can Rock A Pole Like A Cunt Stain

Ha! Let's see how many site searches this title brings me, but I was serious.

My new lady love Shrinking Kitty posted a pic on her blog that conveniently enough my hubby sent me last week. I wasn't sure if he was joking or not:

So, to live up to my husband's expectations of me, I set out to prove him correct in his theory that I am an accomplished pole slider. After my night out with BBS this past Saturday, I phoned home and requested that he have a Captain and Diet Coke waiting upon my arrival. You see, while I had a few beverages that evening, I was driving and didn't want to overindulge and I thought we could have a few drinks together before retiring for the evening. Of course it was close to 2:00 AM when I sauntered into the house, but that is neither here nor there.

Much to my surprise, he did have my drink waiting for me. Through the inner mechanisms of my mind, I decided that just one drink wouldn't do. Oh no! I force fed him a few beers in rapid time - he does not drink that often. Then I proceeded to mix up a few dozen shots for us.

By 3:00 AM we were fairly snookered and I was in the MOOD. You know, that mood. I also decided that it would be a bang up idea to treat him to a little show. He was amenable to my suggestion and even provided himself a chair to sit in and enjoy my gyrations. After fumbling around a bit to find just the right music - Christina Aguilera to be precise - I changed into knee high stiletto boots and gave him a rip roaring good time.

Well.... except for the part where I stomped on his feet. And then when I kicked him in the head trying to shimmy shake around him. And of course I shan't forget about almost breaking his penis. Apparently I feel that I have superhuman strength after my seventeenth shot. Alas, I did not and my poor husband was on the receiving end of the abuse.

Oh and it was Sweetest Day. Another farking Hallmark Holiday that is, I believe, only celebrated in certain areas of the country, including the Midwest. I do not partake in that crap, but I did stop off that evening before going to dinner and pick up a few toys from a sex shop. I gave them to the hubs. There's your Sweetest Day baby!

The next morning, I was perky and joyful. Not so much my drunker half. He had a hangover the size of Duluth and was sporting copious bruises about his midsection. If I were any type of considerate person, I would have provided him with an ice pack for his balls, but instead I laughed.

Oh c'mon, you would have too.

Well, until the kids came in to hop in bed with us and SuperDiva asked why my office chair was in the bedroom. I can't quite remember how I worked around that. But I did also notice that the bag from the store was laying out on the bedroom floor. Oh shite!!!

Me: "Um... hey what's that on the floor?"

Hubs: "I put all that stuff away."

Me: "Great. Good thinking. Pssstttt.... *whispering* How's the cock?"

Hubs: "Shut up. Just shut up."

So here's to all of the ladies who like to have a good time and pass it on!!! Just remember to lift your leg OVER his head. It works better when you do.