Still Droolworthy

Sex in a new house or apartment used to be fun. The whole christen each room thing. Then we had kids, and life got in the way.

My side of the conversation last night went along the lines of:

I know you want to have sex, so can we just hurry up and be done with it?

Yeah, but I know you want to, so let's just do this so we can go to sleep.

We lock ourselves into the guest room.

Do I have to take all my clothes off, or can I keep my shirt on because it's fucking cold in here.

God damn it. Alright. Hurry up.

Don't even think about any tit action. Lay on top of me to get me warm. Hurry up.

Hubbie quickly reaches the big finale. I tell him I wanna see a little enthusiasm. Hubbie throws his head back to be a snarky little bastard and make some witty remark.

As he did so, a gigantic splash of drool flew out of his mouth and hit me on my nose, mouth and chin. How's that for romance?

As we were in absolute hysterics over the whole thing, trying to be quiet so as not to wake the kids I told him, At least I am still droolworthy.

His response? I'll bet this is going to make it on the blog tomorrow.