So, Marcia and I went tonight to see Brokeback Mountain. (Hot man-on-man action.) Afterward, I decided to go home and get a kiss from my husband. I had stopped by his car since his work is on the way to the theater and write “Sex God” and “I (heart) Gary” in the window dirt. So one would think I would get a kiss.
I climbed into bed next to Gary. “Eww” he said. “Your breath stinks.” This was true, and I had been conscious of it all day. I went and swished mouthwash. Climbed back into bed.
“Eww” he said. “Your breath still stinks.” So I climbed out and brushed my teeth I started back for the bed. “Did you brush your tongue too?” I thought about how much I wanted a kiss. I went back and scraped my tongue. I thought about hot man-on-man gay action.
I got back in bed. I breathed on Gary and he said I was acceptable. He gave me a little girly peck on the lips. “No” I groused, “A real kiss.”
So at my insistence the two of us started making the beast with four chins. It might have looked like a good kiss but it was pretty dead. Here is how passionless this kiss was: Mac the dog was in bed and it didn’t bother him. Usually any contact between us makes Mac hyper. I pointed this out to Gary. Gary started dry humping me. Dog just looked at us. I started moaning theatrically. Dog glanced over. I faked a fake orgasm. Dog climbed across my head and frenched Gary and clawed his head. Evidently I can act.
Wish my husband could act.