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The Bang Bang Theories

Yada’d Over the Bad Parts

This post is about S.E.X., Reader. So if you don’t want to know some dirty details, stop now. Remember, once you know, you can’t unknow.

Okay? Okay.

You’ve been given your parental warning.

The other night My Mister was rubbing lotion on my itchy back. Thanks to my good friend Vera, I learned that my itchy back was due to dry skin. I just thought it itched for no reason. Vera knows everything. After she left our house, she went and fixed another friend’s leaky toilet. She can skin a buck and run a trout line, too, all without chipping one of her well-manicured nails. She’s my hero. 

But because of her, My Mister now has the added job of keeping my back moist.

The other night he was rubbing the lotions on the skin, or else he gets the hose again…except while he was rubbing the lotions, he decided that I was just too enticing lying on the bed in my undiewears.

Because I’m so seductive.

And so we started making out, yada yada yada, and before too long, we both realized that I have become super bad in bed. 

I mean, really really bad. 

Let me just say, I could really benefit from some yoga. Or at a barest minimum, some considerate stretching.  And strength training. 

Switching positions, I knocked the wind out of him as I slammed my arms full-force into his chest, taking all his breath away. And not in the sexy, “You take my breath away!” way. 

Today he told me that I may need to take a girl trip to Mexico. Where I have some sex with a Latino lover for a week solid, so I can get some practice in, and get used to being twisted and bended around. I mean, technically, My Mister could do the work to get me back into shape, but I think he’s pretty intimidated by the amount of work needed. And of getting knocked unconscious or having his heart ruptured. 

I mean, I’ll do it. For the good of our relationship, if I have to go and take on a foreign lover, I will. 

He just might want to wear a Kevlar vest. 

I’m still not sure when my skillz waned to such a degree, but it was apparent that I have not been up to any gymnastic tricks in a very long time. 

I’d better get better, or I’ll have to take at least one “bang” off my name, if I can’t prove myself worthy of the double Bang. 

I’m going to stretch now. And maybe find a lover. For the good of my relationship, Reader. Not because I want to. 

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