I've always found it ironic that sex can lead to pregnancy, pregnancy inevitably produces children, and having children is one sure way to destroy your sex life. My wife, Betty, and I had dated for two years and were married for three before little Hunter was born. Those were five blissful years, sexually speaking. Betty and I were quite well matched. After the first few months of constant monkey love, we settled into a very happy routine of three or four times a week. We each knew what the other liked, and neither of us was afraid to try new things. I'm not saying our relationship was perfect, but whatever our problems might have been, sexual incompatibility wasn't among them.
Then along came Hunter. A wonderful child, the light of both of our lives, but a little spoiler when it came to our love life. For one thing, he refused to sleep in his crib, and would wail and scream unless he was snuggled in between us in our bed. That certainly put a damper on things. Now we could only get lovin' in if the baby was by some miracle asleep in his crib, and by some simultaneous miracle Betty was in the mood for it. Caring for a child is an exhausting business, especially after she went back to work full-time, and it took its toll on her once-robust libido. Our bed became less an erotic playground than a simple sanctuary for sleep.
Still, despite these obstacles, I somehow managed to knock her up again. Johanna was born. The cutest little girl in the world, and a cunning co-conspirator with her brother in the war against Mom and Dad's sex life. If it happened rarely with one child, with two our sexual relationship was as endangered as the Siberian Tiger.
So when Betty's Mom, as a present for our tenth anniversary, offered to watch both kids for a long weekend so we could have a second honeymoon, we jumped at the chance. Jumped up and down, screaming with joy, actually.
Given our time and budget constraints, we decided on a simple Vegas trip. After all, we planned to little more than stay in our room and fuck. A lot.
My wife, now in the realm of Upper Thirtysomething, still turned me on something fierce. She was a California blonde with high, round cheekbones which made her look quite a bit like the actress Naomi Watts. Betty's eyes sparkled blue and her smile could make a cold room warm just by her presence. She wasn't the same skinny girl she'd been at nineteen when we'd met, having two kids will do that to you, but in my opinion her new curvaceous figure was even sexier. Better still, each round of breast-feeding had boosted her cup size a notch and she was now a solid D. She was a MILF to die for, and I think she knew it. She liked to wear low-cut tops and mini-skirts to show off what she had. Nothing slutty or skanky, just sexy enough to turn heads. Whenever we go out, I always have a definite "Yeah, she's with me" attitude.
As for me, if Betty is Naomi Watts, I'm more of a Jack Black. No, not quite that bad. I used to go to the gym, but haven't done so for years. If I had time to work out now, I would probably spend that time having sex with my wife. So I've thickened a bit around the middle, as they say. Still, to my enormous gratification, Betty still says I'm the sexiest man she's ever known. Even after ten years, the thought of time alone to explore each other's bodies had us drooling like horny teens.
The fun started on the drive up. To pass the time, Betty hit on the conversational game of each of us listing our Top 5 Favorite Times We Fucked. The plan was to get so worked up that we would tear each our clothes off the second we stepped into the room.
She had me go first, and for sentimental reasons my number five was the first time we ever made love. It was in my car, back when we were still in college. Both of us had room-mates who refused to leave and so we were forced to find a lover's lane and do it in the back seat like awkward, surreptitious teen-agers. Trust me when I say the Honda Civic was not designed with back-seat fucking in mind. Still, in retrospect it was magical.
"My number five is that time right before Hunter was born," Betty said. "I felt like an ugly beached whale, but I had this weird hormonal horniness thing going on at the same time. I wanted it so bad, but I didn't think you did. Then, in the middle of the night, you woke up and started fucking me from behind. It was awesome."
"I remember that," I said. "Your pussy got so wet I thought your water broke."
She laughed. "All right, what's number four?"
"Uh . . ." I had to think for a minute. "Let's see, how about that time we were staying at your Mom's house before we were married. She wouldn't let us sleep together so we snuck out and sixty-nined in the back yard."
"Oh, God yeah. You came so much I couldn't swallow it all."
"And then we looked up and your Mom's creepy neighbor . . ."
"Mr. Stevens."
"Yeah, that guy. He was watching from his bedroom window, jerking off."
"He wasn't jerking off!"
"Oh, he totally was."
Betty laughed hard. "Horny old fucker. I guess it serves us right doing it on a night with a full moon."
We went back and forth like that for miles and miles, until we got to number one. That was easy for me. There was really no contest.
"Ray-Anne," I said.
"Of course," Betty said.
That was the closest we ever came to having a threesome. Ray-Anne was Betty's college room-mate, a crew-cut and Doc Martin-clad college lesbian who, it turned out, was Betty's sometimes fuck-buddy. Back then, Betty was wild and experimental. She considered herself bisexual. Ray-Anne, on the other hand, was completely gay. Betty viewed getting it on with Ray-Anne as something fun to do when drunk, bored and horny, but Ray-Anne had real feelings for Betty. She had a hard time with us going out, and "cold shoulder" is a polite term for how she treated me.
One night, my own room-mate begged me to make myself scarce so he could spend the night alone with his girlfriend. Having nowhere else to sleep, I snuck into Betty's dorm. I spent the evening playing Uno with Betty while a very icy Ray-Anne kept making bitchy comments about how we were being too loud for her to study. Betty said she should go to the library and Ray-Anne said, of course, "I shouldn't have to go to the library. This is my room, too." And so on, back and forth, until I thought the girls were going to come to blows.
Finally, it was time for lights out. I wasn't too hopeful about my prospects for getting any under the circumstances, but to my surprise I felt Betty writhe against me. She kissed me hard and soon our hands were all over each other. I didn't know how far this was going to go, but then Betty crept under the thin sheet we shared, opened my pants and pulled my cock into her mouth.
Betty is the greatest cocksucker in the world. Of course, my experience is somewhat limited, but I can't imagine anyone doing it better than her. I think the secret is enthusiasm. She loves to suck my dick, and it shows. In return, I love going down on her just as much. This exchange works out well for both of us.
