Hot & Bothered: A Little Imagination Goes a Long Way

by Racy Red

It was just a typical night, I was surfing the web while the husband clutched the remote tightly and flicked through the channels. Occasionally we'd ask one another a question, never really paying attention to the answer or looking at one another. Having lived together for almost half of our life spans, there is very little romance left under this roof.

A lot of love, but romance is as elusive as that mysterious pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

Then a commercial for Angelina Jolie's newest film blazed on to the screen at the same time my husband was in mid sentence telling me about a sale on winter snow tires and how one brand was better than the next. It stopped him cold. He cocked his head, lost his train of thought and I saw a twinkle of interest glimmer in his eyes.

"Boy, if I didn't know better, I'd think someone has an Angie crush," I teased.

He had the good graces to blush but he didn't continue his evaluation of all things round and rubber until Ms. Jolie was safely off the screen.

"Man, if you looked like that I'd have you chained to the bed with your ankles tied up past your ears and I'd never leave the house," he breathed.

"Look at you, getting all romantic on me," I snorted. "Ya, it's a real shame I wasn't born with oversized lips, wearing a gold body suit and had a tail braid that I could whip around and smack your ass with."

It's not that my husband doesn't find me attractive, quite the opposite. I still can't walk past him naked with out him thinking that is an open invitation to jump on me and start pumping. But obviously my charms aren't as bright as they were when we were 18 and had the libidos of rabbits.

This conversation (which was the only half interesting thing we talked about that night) got me thinking. Thinking about what made my husband's little willy stand at full mast. It's not like our sex life is dead, just the opposite. It's rather healthy. But like a lot of couples that have been together for what seems like an eternity, it's just not as fresh as it once was.

Generating some electricity and having some fun while rubbing our ugly bits together actually takes a bit more work than just shooting each other our 'come hither' looks.

(Now if he looked at me with bedroom eyes I'd be more apt to ask him if he had something in his eye or if he was constipated...)

That movie trailer sparked into a full fledged conversation about who (and what) gets who hot. Turns out he's a big fan of brunettes. With big boobs. (Of course.)

And me, well, let's just say that you don't need to be famous with a big bank account. Bald is beautiful to me. I see a shiny, shaved dome, whether it's in the grocery store or the night club, and I'm instantly drawn to him. Something about having the nuts to expose yourself like that just gets my blood a pumping.

It's just too bad that I'm a natural blonde and my husband is sporting a luscious head of wavy hair. Which I suppose is why we are fascinated with something so unfamiliar to us. It's new, it's exciting and trust me, just talking about what got each other hot led to some crazy, sweaty sex that night.

It was a nice change from our usual routine of just falling into bed, copping a quick feel and then rolling over to catch some zzz's.

How did things become so boring in the bedroom? Oh wait, I remember. Children, mortgages and jobs. Right.

We talked pretty openly that night about what got each other off and what didn't. But even when talking about the kinky stuff, we're still pretty boring. Neither one of us get off on plushies, and the only time we want to crush a bug is when it's in our bathroom. No shoe fetishes or golden showers for us.

But I also learned why my husband keeps harping on me to buy some leather pants...hmmm. Part of a larger dominatrix fantasy he's harbouring in that head of his.

We barely scratched the surface on this subject before we were looking at one another and racing towards the bedroom to capture the moment before the moment was lost...and before one of the kids woke up wanting a glass of water.

Just think, one little movie trailer commercial led to the best sexual work out I had all month. We've got to watch more movies around here if only to free us up to talk to each other about our secret sex desires. Some how it seems a whole lot easier to talk about wanting to slap a set of handcuffs on a big bald man when Ms. Jolie is slithering around oozing sex than it is to ask, "Honey, what do you think about having sex in public places and please pass the peas," in the kitchen.

One thing l learned after that night is just how much a brunette wig and a good razor could mean to my pink parts. I've got to go shopping.

Comments

Amen to that...a little fantasy never hurt anyone. Hubby has an old overdone fantasy and I suppose I really should indulge him. What is that you may wonder...why of course the naughty school girl.
I guess I better go find a micro mini plaid skirt...

Posted by: Worker Mommy | December 12, 2007 at 02:56 PM