Her name is Normani. She's perfect. She works a full-time job as a music teacher. She cooks, cleans, do the laundry and the grocery shopping. She files our taxes and she walks my dog. She's a slim, dark haired twenty-seven year-old hottie that pounces on me for sex at least twice a week. Plus, she can deepthroat like a pro.
I don't deserve her. I'm not sure anyone does.
The sick part? I was still only 99% happy. So why the 1% hold-out? I'll be blunt: she wouldn't let me put it in her ass.
I know, I know, I'm an ungrateful bitch.
I'd tried everything to get her in mood for anal. Soft music. Massages. Long hot baths. Booze. Pot. We even tried ecstasy once. But nothing worked, I heard the same things over and over.
"Exit only, Laur."
"Why is your tongue in my butt again?"
"Slide that dick back up to the right hole or I'll break it off, Romeo."
It was driving me crazy.
I love my wife. She's gorgeous. I'm in lust with her fantastic little heart-shaped ass. It looks incredible in jeans. In fact, it's how we met. Nine years ago, I picked her up in the grocery store after following her swaying rump and swinging raven ponytail all the way through the market before working up the courage to ask her out.
We hit it off great. But I soon found out that her perfect tush was just for looking. No pokey-pokey. Or licky-licky. Maybe some rubby-rubby, but that was it.
Seven years of marriage later, I was going insane. Not being able to take advantage of my wife's callipygian gift was like owning a Ferrari you're not allowed to drive. It just didn't seem right.
The funny part is that my wife was sympathetic. She actually felt bad about not being into anal. No way in hell she was going to do it, but she felt bad about it.
For my twenty-eighth birthday, she solved the problem. Did I mention that my wife is smarter than me? I think it was right before the part about her deepthroating like a pro.
It started about two months before my birthday. I came home from work and my wife was packing up a cardboard box. It had a really weird mix of stuff inside: chips, pretzels, socks, a roll of duct tape, a fuzzy pillow, some paper towels, a couple of bottles of wine and...
I looked closer...
A bottle of Astroglide? And a dildo? And a little buttplug? And a boxed set of DVD's titled "Assmaster's Vols. 1-6"?
"Uh, honey?" I reached down into the box to pick up the videos. I was amazed she even knew where to buy things like this.
My wife smacked my hand away. "Hey! It's not for you, Lauren."
"Oh. So who's it for?"
"Sorry Laur, can't tell you. I'm working on your birthday present."
"You're mailing someone else porn as part of my birthday present?"
"Yep."
"Riiiiight. I'm going to grab a beer and go sit on the back porch until I figure this out."
"Good luck," she smiled as she taped the box closed.
I couldn't figure it out.
Something suspiciously similar happened a month later. I had just mowed the lawn and I was taking a shower. My wife came into the bathroom with a digital camera. She took off her clothes, dug a disposable razor and a can of shaving cream out of the cabinet, and got in the shower with me.
