homework? Grrrrrrreat! Why don’t you go get your stuff and I’llllllllll m-meet you in a fffffew minutes? What am I doing? Ahhhhh, nooothinnnng. Jussst keeeeepin your mammmaa warrrgggghhhh, warmmmmmmm.”
Sometimes the kids affect my sex life without them even knowing it. I come home from work horny, ready to have sex. I’d walk up on my wife, and go to kiss her.
Wife : Get off me. You need to go talk to your damn kids, ‘cause they are getting on my damn nerves. You better talk to them.
Me : Okay, baby, I’ll talk to them. Now come here and give me a kiss.
Wife : No. I’m not in the mood, get off me.
Me : What did I do?
Wife : You look just like them. That’s what you did. Now get off me, ‘cause I am tired of all of y’all’s shit.
Finally, I’d wear her down and we’d be having sex, but she’d still be complaining.
Wife : I told that little daughter of yours that if this is the attitude she’s taking to school … Wait, move it to the left … yeah, right there. Anyway, I told her I will not accept these kind of grades… faster… because your father works too hard … wait, slow down … for you to not to be cooperating. What’s the matter, Damon? Are you having problems at work?
Aerobics Are Not Good for a Marriage
M y wife used to teach aerobics. I’d watch the results come home and I’d think to myself, “All right, I hope you’re ready to carry some more kids.” She wasn’t happy about getting pregnant with our fourth child, but it was her fault, walking around the house looking all good. I’d look at that ass, and I’d say, “Take that, girl, see you in nine months!”
She kept inviting me to see her teach, but I never made the class. It’s not that I wasn’t proud of her or didn’t want to be supportive. It’s just I can’t stand in a room filled with titties and ass and watch them bounce around and pretend like I don’t see anything. If I go to her class, I can’t be disrespectful and look at other women. I got to look her in the eye the whole time.
And these days women come in the gym with virtually nothing on. They have a sticker over each nipple and a string up the ass and that’s the outfit. Then the exercises they do are very suggestive and the music they play sounds like porno. And my wife will be saying things like, “And up, and down, and in, and out… Up, and down, and in, and out… And spread your legs … hold … release …” I figure, halfway through this class, I’m gonna have my dick in my hand, and she ain’t gonna be happy about that.
Father v. Son
M y oldest son, Damon, just turned sixteen. It’s scary seeing him grow up. The boy’s tall, got big feet. And you know what being a teenager means. He’s playing with himself. Now I have two masturbators in the house—and one of us has got to go! See, I know he’s doing it because the boy spends most of his time in the bathroom. He comes home from school looking real sad.
“Hey, Damon, how was your day?” I ask.
He looks real unhappy and doesn’t say hi or anything. He just makes a beeline straight to the bathroom. Then he comes out five minutes later all relaxed, with a big smile.
“Oh, hi, Dad,” he says, all bright and cheery, trying to shake my hand.
“Boy, I don’t want to shake your hand!” I mean, I want to be supportive and all that, but there’s a line I just can’t cross.
Knowing what it’s like to be jerking off in the bathroom at that age, I really enjoy messing with him. I play with the doorknob when he’s in there.
I’ll knock on the door, saying, “Hey, Damon, everything all right in there?”
“Uh, yeah, Dad, everything’s fine. I’m almost done.” His voice is all nervous.
But I’ll keep on, trying to throw his rhythm off, “Can I get you anything—some toilet paper, some lotion?”
One day, I’d like to do something really mean but it’d be fun—kick the door open and not even acknowledge what he’s doing. I’ll just say, “Wash your
Sometimes the kids affect my sex life without them even knowing it. I come home from work horny, ready to have sex. I’d walk up on my wife, and go to kiss her.
Wife : Get off me. You need to go talk to your damn kids, ‘cause they are getting on my damn nerves. You better talk to them.
Me : Okay, baby, I’ll talk to them. Now come here and give me a kiss.
Wife : No. I’m not in the mood, get off me.
Me : What did I do?
Wife : You look just like them. That’s what you did. Now get off me, ‘cause I am tired of all of y’all’s shit.
Finally, I’d wear her down and we’d be having sex, but she’d still be complaining.
Wife : I told that little daughter of yours that if this is the attitude she’s taking to school … Wait, move it to the left … yeah, right there. Anyway, I told her I will not accept these kind of grades… faster… because your father works too hard … wait, slow down … for you to not to be cooperating. What’s the matter, Damon? Are you having problems at work?
Aerobics Are Not Good for a Marriage
M y wife used to teach aerobics. I’d watch the results come home and I’d think to myself, “All right, I hope you’re ready to carry some more kids.” She wasn’t happy about getting pregnant with our fourth child, but it was her fault, walking around the house looking all good. I’d look at that ass, and I’d say, “Take that, girl, see you in nine months!”
She kept inviting me to see her teach, but I never made the class. It’s not that I wasn’t proud of her or didn’t want to be supportive. It’s just I can’t stand in a room filled with titties and ass and watch them bounce around and pretend like I don’t see anything. If I go to her class, I can’t be disrespectful and look at other women. I got to look her in the eye the whole time.
And these days women come in the gym with virtually nothing on. They have a sticker over each nipple and a string up the ass and that’s the outfit. Then the exercises they do are very suggestive and the music they play sounds like porno. And my wife will be saying things like, “And up, and down, and in, and out… Up, and down, and in, and out… And spread your legs … hold … release …” I figure, halfway through this class, I’m gonna have my dick in my hand, and she ain’t gonna be happy about that.
Father v. Son
M y oldest son, Damon, just turned sixteen. It’s scary seeing him grow up. The boy’s tall, got big feet. And you know what being a teenager means. He’s playing with himself. Now I have two masturbators in the house—and one of us has got to go! See, I know he’s doing it because the boy spends most of his time in the bathroom. He comes home from school looking real sad.
“Hey, Damon, how was your day?” I ask.
He looks real unhappy and doesn’t say hi or anything. He just makes a beeline straight to the bathroom. Then he comes out five minutes later all relaxed, with a big smile.
“Oh, hi, Dad,” he says, all bright and cheery, trying to shake my hand.
“Boy, I don’t want to shake your hand!” I mean, I want to be supportive and all that, but there’s a line I just can’t cross.
Knowing what it’s like to be jerking off in the bathroom at that age, I really enjoy messing with him. I play with the doorknob when he’s in there.
I’ll knock on the door, saying, “Hey, Damon, everything all right in there?”
“Uh, yeah, Dad, everything’s fine. I’m almost done.” His voice is all nervous.
But I’ll keep on, trying to throw his rhythm off, “Can I get you anything—some toilet paper, some lotion?”
One day, I’d like to do something really mean but it’d be fun—kick the door open and not even acknowledge what he’s doing. I’ll just say, “Wash your
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