Ok, If That's What You Want

Just a fun little story.

"Honey, I'm gonna cut the grass."

That's my husband Don or Donnie, only his mother calls him Dominick. Every Saturday it's the same thing. Don showers, eats breakfast, and cuts the grass. It takes him three hours to cut, weed whack, and blow the walkway and deck. Everyone else in the neighborhood has a landscaper so they can enjoy the weekend with their family. Not my husband. No, he won't pay anyone if he can do it himself.

After he finishes the lawn, he'll be in his garage working on his 68 Camaro, which he has had forever, but has never had the time to complete. I can't fit my car in the garage because there are parts and tools everywhere.

Don and I have been married for 20 years and dated for two before getting married. We have two daughters, twins, in their freshman year at college. When we were young, oh the sex was great. I was 27 when the girls were born and that's when it all changed. Don't get me wrong; I love my girls and wouldn't change anything for the world. I just mean that's when sex changed.

You know what it's like when you have kids, you're busy all day taking care of them and the house, the shopping, you get what I'm talking about. I had to stop working when the girls were born so Don started working overtime at the plant. By the time Don got home from work and me taking care of the kids and house, we were both too tired for sex. Sometimes Don would have to work a half day on Saturdays too.

Sunday was our special day. Don has a great tongue; I call it his magic tongue and loves to please me. He would get me off at least three times before he worried about himself. Don was not a selfish man. We would have sex and while I cleaned up, Don would make breakfast and get the kids up.

But all good things must come to an end. As the girls got older, we had less and less privacy. Even if we locked the bedroom door, the girls figured out how to open it with a plastic knife. So, the sex started to slow down. Sure, there were always vacations, little weekends away when the grandparents would watch the kids. Those were fun trips, and we would have sex all weekend long if we could.

The girls were getting older, and we learned that they both excelled at Lacrosse. They're both away at college on Lacrosse scholarships, so at least it paid off. Anyway, between school Lacrosse, Travel Lacrosse, Box Lacrosse, and practices, we were never home. And when we were home over the weekends, Don had to cut the damn grass and work on his car.

Well, things did change. Don was promoted to Forman and his hours were reduced and he hardly ever went to work on a Saturday. His pay was more too.

Don was no longer tired; the kids were a little older and would leave us alone if the door were locked. The only problem was that while Don was all in and wanted sex all the time, I didn't. I don't know why. The doctor told me "Hormones." Hormones, shit I was only in my 30s.

As time when on, we would still have sex once or twice a week or every other week. I know Don was upset with me, but I would give him a blowjob to keep him happy. But he would get mad when I would tell him "I'm gonna do this for you, but don't take forever." Thinking back, I was a bitch.

Well, now Don is in his 50s and I'm in my 40s. My body is going through some kind of changes again, and I need sex all the time. The only problem is Don works and he's tired when he gets home and he's in his 50s. When we have sex, he can't get it up three times like he used to, and he isn't interested in having sex four days a week. So, yes, we needed to have "the talk."

"Don honey, can you get cleaned up for dinner?" Don honey, where the hell did that come from? Maybe I'm pouring it on too thick.

I made Don's favorite meal, sausage, meatballs, and pasta. Don says my meatballs taste as good as his mom's but he's full of shit and just says that to make me feel good.

The only thing missing from this meal was the homemade sauce, which ain't gonna happen. Look I'm Irish, we don't make sauce. We make brown gravy. Tom has learned that the closest he's getting to homemade sauce is RAO's and I add garlic and red pepper. It tastes just like your mom's I tell him, and I get the eye roll and the head shake.

"Honey, sit down and eat while it's hot," Then I broke out the parmesan and a grater. I had to buy a cheese grater just for tonight. I usually use Kraft parmesan Romano; you know, the one with the green top.

"What the fuck is going on Bridget? Freshly grated parmesan cheese real Italian bread from a bakery instead of frozen garlic bread from the grocery store?"

"I just wanted to make a nice meal for you Don that's all."

"You're full of shit Bridget, I know you. You what something."

"Don, I do want to talk to you, but eat first."

"Bridget! Did you hit the car again?"

"No, Don the car is fine." Well, I did put a dent into the car, but I'm hoping Don doesn't notice it. Next time he drives the car, I'm gonna ask him what happened to the car and I'm gonna blame it on him this time. Hearing him yell at me the last four times was enough.

"Bridget, are your parents coming to stay with us? It's not Christmas so why are they coming for a visit."

"It has nothing to do with my parents." However, my mom did talk about coming up for Thanksgiving this year. But now's not the time to break that news to Don.

"Don, please just eat and we can talk later."

"Fuck is it the girls? Did one of them get pregnant?"

"Of course, they didn't get pregnant, the girls have been on the pill since they were fifteen."

"Fifteen," My husband still thinks his girls are virgins.

"Don, we put them on the pill at such a young age because the pill helps reduce acne."

"Are you lying to me, Bridget?"

"No Don it's true, the pill really helps reduce acne." Well, it does according to the Planned Parenthood website.

"I'm not stupid Bridget. I don't believe that for one second."

"Don, I'll show you on the Planned Parenthood website later and you can see for yourself."

Well, we finished eating and I cleaned up the dishes while Don sat at the table drinking some homemade red wine that would put hair on a woman's chest. But that's just my opinion.

"Bridget, what do you want to talk about? And just get to the point. I don't want to spend the whole night trying to figure out what the hell you're trying to say.

"Fine. Don, I want to have sex with other men."

Don spit his wine out of his mouth. "What the fuck did you say?"

"Don, just calm down and let me explain."

"Explain what? You want to fuck other men. What more is there than that? If that's what you want, go ahead."

"What," I said to my husband in disbelief. "You would be fine with me going out and fucking random men that pick me up at a bar?"

"Listen, Bridget, for years I thought you were having an affair anyway. I thought at least someone was having regular sex with you because I sure as hell wasn't."

"You thought I was having an affair but never said anything to me?"

"Oh, calm down, I talked to your sister, and she made up some excuse for you and bought it. I don't know anything about women. Your sister told me to just be nice, buy you flowers, shit like that. I was supposed to keep you happy."

"I never got any flowers from you!"

"Listen that's not the point," my romantic husband. "The point is you weren't cheating on me, but now it seems like you want to,"

"And you seem to be okay with it?"

"No, I'm not fucking okay with it," my husband was yelling now.

"Don, just like my body was going through changes before and I lost my sex drive, now I can't get enough sex. I want the sex to be with you, but you keep turning me away and the batteries for my dildo are costing me a fortune to keep replacing."

"Turning you away, when do I turn you away?"

"Don, I always ask you to come to bed and you stay in the den watching a game on TV or watching TikTok. What grown man watches TikTok as much as you do?

I go to our bedroom, without you, and I pull out my vibrator and I please myself because you won't. And when we do have sex, it's not long enough. You get me hot and excited and then you fuck me once and we're done. Don't get me wrong Don, I love sex with you, but I need more than one orgasm."

"Back up there Bridget. I'm not some kind of mind reader. I'm just a simple man. If you want something, you need to tell me what you want. If you said Don, I need your magic tongue and your big dick in me, I'd be naked and, on the bed before you made it up the stairs.

And who are you planning on fucking, just some random guy at a bar? Or are you thinking about fucking Brian Thomas? That prick is always flirting with you, and it pisses me off."

"Don, how come you're never told me that Brian's flirting with me bothered you?"

"I didn't want to make a scene, that's why Bridget. You see, I always trusted you and thought nothing would ever come of it. But now, I'm gonna rip his dick off so he can't fuck you."

"Calm down big boy, no one is ripping anyone's dick off."

'This was not going the way I planned. But it can still be salvaged, I thought to myself.

"Don, I'm not fucking anyone but you. I only told you that I want to fuck someone else so that I could get you motivated to fuck me more."

"Bridget, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say. Look at me right now because I know when you're lying to me. Just like that acne load of shit. Tell me you're not fucking anyone but me and that you don't plan on fucking anyone but me."

"Don, you are the only man I have fucked in 22 years, and you are the only man I will ever fuck. Unless you die. If you die, I'm going to fuck Brian Thomas because I hear he has a big dick.

Look, I'm sorry Don, but a vibrator isn't gonna cut it anymore."

"Fine if I die, you can find someone else to fuck you. But not Brian Thomas. If you fuck Brian Thomas, I'm coming back from the grave and I'll rip his dick off."

"Don, do you think you can still get it up three times like you used to?"

"Fuck Bridget, I'm not in my 20s anymore, but I'm not 70. I'll use the magic tongue and get you off as many times as I can, and I'll get it up twice for you. I'm sure I can still do that."

"Okay, I can work with that Don."

"I saw some whipped cream in the fridge Bridget."

"Yes, that was for the dessert I made for us."

"Well go get I'm going to eat my dessert in bed."

"And Bridget, one more thing, how did you put another dent in your car!!!"

Good night