Pumpkin-Headed Husbands - Sex~Kitten.net

It’s rare for parents to have a night to themselves, without children, and rarer still, for mom to have time to get ready for said event all on her own.

It’s not that I, or any other mother, can’t put her complete look together in 8-15 minutes total - not consecutive minutes - you shower, dress, do your hair while dressing everyone else, and do your makeup with children watching. Quite possibly dad watches too. (It is one of those things, like simply being on the phone, that draws men & children like magnets to your side.)

Like I said, it’s not that I can’t get dressed in a snap, and look beautiful, it’s that I pine for the days when I have all the time & space in the world to get ready, by myself. Give me one hour, alone in the house, to get ready, and man-o-man, I am a happy woman.

But I already wrote about that.

So what’s my point this day?

Well, every Halloween weekend, my dear mother-in-law takes the kiddies overnight, and the husband & I get to attend a real Halloween party. Just the two of us. And no costumes, no other kids at the party - this is an annual grown-up cocktail party! (Can I hear I ‘woo-hoo!’ folks?)

Last year, my husband dropped the kids off at his mom’s all by himself, so that I could have 30 minutes to get dressed. Which all sounds like a good thing, right? But well, upon his return, and seeing my hair & makeup done ‘just so’ and my bra & pantied self slightly bent over, as I stepped into my dress... well, I think you can imagine...

The husband became intoxicated by the combination of my beauty mingling with my perfume. Oh, hell, I’m no erotica writer - he got a huge hard-on.

Like most married couples, this unplanned for sex is a treat, and so (as if I had any real means to stop him anyway!) we did the nasty, right there, bent over our bed.

Now this may sound like a good thing, but honestly, it wasn’t for me.

It’s not that I didn’t like the sex. It was fine, more than fine, it was a nice surprise, and a welcomed orgasm too. But remember, this evening was my time to feel like the Belle of the Ball. How pretty did I feel with, with, well there is no nice way to say it, & to give you an idea of how unhappy I was, I will tell you the same way I told my husband:

“Now I have to go to the party with a cum-dripping-cunt!” Not only did I whine (as I was moments from tears), but I wore a very large pout (and that was about it).

Why couldn’t he wait until we came home?

Heady with cocktails & adult conversation, intoxicated by our time alone, and yes, him telling me how badly he wanted me all night... that’s how I wanted to tumble into bed with him. I wanted to know how badly he wanted me all night long, to be reminded of our early days - the dates where we had to wait...

Ok, yea, I’ll be honest, I also wanted to arrive at our host’s home looking beautiful, wafting in on an air of perfume, looking like a chick from a magazine - or better yet, some babe across the bar ‘everyone wanted.’ I didn’t want to wobble in on shaky legs, hair disheveled, leaving a trail of his cum - either in the air or on the ground.

Hubby didn’t get it. Well, he did get ‘it’ but he didn’t understand it then, and he doesn’t now: The whole purpose of getting all dressed up was to both seduce & be seduced. As married folks, the long, slow seduction is a rarity. And I miss it.

He thinks if the end game was to get laid, hey, we did that in record time, we are ahead of schedule, good for us. And sure, then he didn’t have to go all evening worrying about his alcohol intake & remind himself to slow down so he could perform later. Nowhere in those thoughts was there a bit of concern for me & my wishes.

So hubby, if you are reading this, consider yourself notified: This year, before we go to the Gunderson’s, there will be no, I repeat, no sex. You will have to woo me all night long, or else, you still won’t get ‘it.’

Pull another trick like last year, and you’ll get no treat.

I might even hollow out your head & put a candle in it, & display you on the porch the next day - not just to scare the trick-or-treaters, but as a reminder to husbands everywhere...