"Daddy, what are you doing to Mommy?"

>> Tuesday, May 1, 2007


There we were on the couch like two young newlyweds, fucking. Out in the open. Lights on. Asses in the air. Over, under, and on top. Clothes here and there. Mouths open, and eyes shut. We were having a good time. A really good time. And then,

"Daddy? What are you doing to Mommy?"

Ya know, the sound a startled man makes is kind of funny. It's even funnier when coupled with the scream of a frightened woman. Kind of like a "startled chorus". That was my husband and I two weekends ago, singing a startled chorus on a Friday night while our 3-year old stood next to us holding her sippy cup.

Our minds raced, each of us focused on different tasks. Michael focused on explanations, while I scanned for cover. Shit, there wasn't a garment within 5 feet! (Like I said, we were having a really good time.) Where's a blanket, a blanket...?

"Well," he ventured to explain, "It's like a...a big hug."

Ah! What?! Next time we want to hug her, she'll run screaming in the opposite direction. I quickly added, "It's like a big hug between a mommy and a daddy..." I smiled as if that was a more reasonable explanation.

Michael and I clung to each other using our arms, legs, hair...anything we could for cover. Elizabeth just stood there and stared. She didn't seem disturbed in the least, but appeared to take some enjoyment in our predicament.

There! I found it--a blanket! We were on one side of our large u-shaped sofa, and on the opposite side (of course) was a blanket.

"Elizabeth, could you hand us that blanket?" I asked and pointed. She looked everywhere but where I pointed. "Over there...honey, there!" She glanced at it and casually stepped back towards it. Then stopped to look at a toy, then glanced back at us.

"Elizabeth...I'm cold," I lied. Truthfully, I was sweating. "Could you get me the blanket? Now, honey. Please!"

She meandered over to it, slowly pulled it off the couch, and brought it to us.

Now, here's something that's not as easy as it sounds: It's not easy to throw a blanket with one hand over your husband's naked ass while the two of you are in missionary position. It's not easy. Really, it isn't.

With one arm I toss it over him, but it lands vertically across his back. His ass is still clearly visible. Then I reach for the other side of the blanket. Meanwhile, my lungs are bursting. He's not doing anything to lift himself off of me, which he would do normally, as he's nearly twice my size and I simply can't breathe when his weight is on me fully.

But he's too afraid to move. You see, without discussion, we'd somehow arrived at the same conclusion--it is NOT acceptable to reveal to our daughter where our two bodies...um...connect. So we could not move. If he lifted his chest up, then oh boy--connected parts revealed! His legs were practically tied at the ankles between my thighs which held him in a vice grip.

Now I'm holding the blanket with two hands. I try to wave it over his body, but it recoils and lands just shy of his butt. I try again. And again. Finally I manage to wave it correctly and it falls gently over our bodies. The soft touch of the blanket onto our nicely concealed parts caused them to relax instantly.

We enjoy a moment of sweet relief.

Then we did what is natural and good in parenting... we diverted attention away from ourselves and onto her. "What are you doing out of bed? It's nearly 10:30!"

Using our blanket as cover and moving in unison, we were able to reach for our undies and slip them on. Honestly, I can't remember what her explanation was. It was probably something innocent like she needed more water. Or maybe she was hungry. Or maybe she heard "noises". Who knows. Michael and I were in the process of generating chaos--another diversion tactic.

"You need to get to bed, Lizzy... Here, I'll get you some water... Is that my sock? You're going to be tired in the morning... No more late naps for you... Honey, can you hand me a tissue?" And on and on.

I took her back to bed, and there she stayed.

Michael and I regrouped on the couch.

"Daddy, what are you doing to Mommy?" I asked him and giggled. Poor Michael. He couldn't laugh, yet. He was still too mortified. I hugged him and we laid there on the couch hoping she'd forget, but knowing she probably wouldn't.

How did our evening end, you may wonder?

We had sex again on the couch. (duh.) Only this time, we kept the blanket handy. Unlike two newlyweds on the couch, we've learned something about persistence. Nice older couples like ourselves don't get derailed that easily.




Previous Comments
 

1 comments:

Dave February 27, 2008 at 4:56 PM  

That is frigging hilarious.

Post a Comment