Shaving

Sometimes the Mrs, when the hormone planets align, which is not very often, but when the situation arises, she’ll sit in the living room watching the telly, and out of the blue she’ll come away with, “You need a shave?” Yes folks, it’s a question or rather a request and can only mean one thing, she fancies a ride.

Now, I’m not complaining, well not overly complaining, its just that, I adjusted to married life many years ago, I have my own wee routine and the witch fancying a wee rub during the week knocks my routine out of balance. Besides, Mrs has a hard neck telling me to have a shave, when she has legs like Desperate Dan’s chin and as for the bush, well, that looks like a burst couch, you could quite easily get lost in there.

You need a shave! That is her idea of foreplay, it is, and do I complain? No, I just take a deep breath and go for it, no one can say I’m a selfish person.

If I fancy a wee rub during the week, I have to go on a course to become a world class masseur, buy scented candles, brush my teeth and have a shave.

Mrs, she thinks I’ll jump through burning hoops just because she says, “You need a shave.”

Well, I was in a sarcastic mood, so I kept watching the football, lifted my can of bear and said, “Do you think so doll?”

“Eye!”
“How do you not like it?”
“You look dirty!”
“I was thinking about growing a beard!”
“No you weren’t!”
“What’s up, do you fancy a wee rub?”
“Well!”
“Well, what do you mean well? Your sitting there forming a puddle!”
“Cheeky Pig!”
“Get me another can and I’ll think about it!”
“Get your own effin’ can!”
“Can of lager, or no rumpy pumpy?”
“You are an, arsehole!”
“Shut it Mrs, get me a can and another thing, while your up, give that couch a wipe, any body would think we keep snails in here.”
“Beat it tiny dick!”
“I’m away for a shower!”
“I’ll be up shortly, mind the shave!”

That folks is it, foreplay in our house. Sex, midweek, its just not natural.