puppy-dog face. Then I said a prayer to the Almighty.
“Ohhh, no!” said Mommy, bursting Daddy’s bubble. “Daddy doesn’t get to kiss Mommy for a very, very long time. But his daughter’s dying for a kiss. Isn’t that right, Channy?”
Good Lord—she doesn’t fight fair, my wife!
Mommy soldiered on in her baby’s voice: “Here, Channy, now go crawl over to your daddy right now. Now, Daddy, you bend down so Channy can crawl right into your arms. Okay, Daddy?”
I took a step forward—
“That’s far enough,” warned Mommy, raising her right hand in the air. “Now bend down just like Mommy said.”
I did as I was told. After all, who was I to argue with the luscious Duchess?
Mommy put Chandler down on all fours, ever so gently, and gave her a loving shove forward. Chandler started crawling toward me at a snail’s pace, repeating: “Dadadadadadada…Dadadadadadada.”
Ahhhh, such happiness! Such
joie de vivre
! Was I the luckiest man alive or what? “Come here,” I said to Chandler. “Come to Daddy, sweetie.” I looked up at Mommy, slowly lowering my gaze…and…“Holy shit! Nadine, what the…what the hell is wrong with you! Are you out of—”
“What’s wrong, Dada? I hope you don’t see anything you want, because you can’t have it anymore,” said Mommy, the aspiring cock-teaser, with her glorious legs spread wide open and her skirt hiked up above her hips and her panties nowhere in sight. Her pretty pink vulva was staring me right in the eye and was glistening with desire. All Mommy had was a tiny patch of soft blond peach fuzz, just above her mons pubis, and that was it.
I did the only thing any rational husband could do: I groveled like the dog that I was. “Please, honey, you know how sorry I am about last night. I swear to God I’ll never—”
“Oh, save it until next year,” said Mommy, with a flap of the back of her hand in the air. “Mommy knows how much you like to swear to God about this and that and everything else when you’re about to burst. But don’t waste your time, Daddy, because Mommy’s only getting started with you. From now on it’s going to be nothing but short, short skirts around the house! That’s right, Dada! Nothing but short, short skirts, no underwear, and this…” said the luscious Mommy with great pride, as she put her palms down behind her and locked out her elbows and leaned all the way back. Then, using the very tips of her Manolo Blahnik high heels in a way the shoe designers had never imagined, she turned them into erotic pivots and let those luscious legs of hers swing open and closed and open and closed until on the third pivot she let them fall so wide open that her knees almost hit the glorious pink carpet. She said, “What’s wrong, Dada? You don’t look so well.”
Well, it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen it before. In fact this wasn’t the first time Mommy had pulled a fast one on me. There were elevators, tennis courts, public parking lots, even the White House. There was no venue completely safe from Mommy. It was just the fucking shock of it all! I felt like a boxer who never saw the punch coming and ended up getting knocked out cold—permanently!
Making matters worse, Chandler had stalled in mid-crawl and decided to take some time to inspect the glorious pink carpet. She was pulling on the fibers as if she’d discovered something truly wonderful, completely oblivious to what was transpiring around her.
I tried to apologize once more, but Mommy’s response to that was to stick her right index finger inside her mouth and start to suck. It was then that I lost the power of speech. She seemed to know she’d just delivered the knockout punch, so she slowly pulled her finger out of her mouth and then poured on the baby voice even more: “Ohhh, poor, poor Dada. He loves to say how wrong he is when he’s ready to come in his own pants, isn’t that right, Dada?”
I stared in disbelief and wondered if any other married
“Ohhh, no!” said Mommy, bursting Daddy’s bubble. “Daddy doesn’t get to kiss Mommy for a very, very long time. But his daughter’s dying for a kiss. Isn’t that right, Channy?”
Good Lord—she doesn’t fight fair, my wife!
Mommy soldiered on in her baby’s voice: “Here, Channy, now go crawl over to your daddy right now. Now, Daddy, you bend down so Channy can crawl right into your arms. Okay, Daddy?”
I took a step forward—
“That’s far enough,” warned Mommy, raising her right hand in the air. “Now bend down just like Mommy said.”
I did as I was told. After all, who was I to argue with the luscious Duchess?
Mommy put Chandler down on all fours, ever so gently, and gave her a loving shove forward. Chandler started crawling toward me at a snail’s pace, repeating: “Dadadadadadada…Dadadadadadada.”
Ahhhh, such happiness! Such
joie de vivre
! Was I the luckiest man alive or what? “Come here,” I said to Chandler. “Come to Daddy, sweetie.” I looked up at Mommy, slowly lowering my gaze…and…“Holy shit! Nadine, what the…what the hell is wrong with you! Are you out of—”
“What’s wrong, Dada? I hope you don’t see anything you want, because you can’t have it anymore,” said Mommy, the aspiring cock-teaser, with her glorious legs spread wide open and her skirt hiked up above her hips and her panties nowhere in sight. Her pretty pink vulva was staring me right in the eye and was glistening with desire. All Mommy had was a tiny patch of soft blond peach fuzz, just above her mons pubis, and that was it.
I did the only thing any rational husband could do: I groveled like the dog that I was. “Please, honey, you know how sorry I am about last night. I swear to God I’ll never—”
“Oh, save it until next year,” said Mommy, with a flap of the back of her hand in the air. “Mommy knows how much you like to swear to God about this and that and everything else when you’re about to burst. But don’t waste your time, Daddy, because Mommy’s only getting started with you. From now on it’s going to be nothing but short, short skirts around the house! That’s right, Dada! Nothing but short, short skirts, no underwear, and this…” said the luscious Mommy with great pride, as she put her palms down behind her and locked out her elbows and leaned all the way back. Then, using the very tips of her Manolo Blahnik high heels in a way the shoe designers had never imagined, she turned them into erotic pivots and let those luscious legs of hers swing open and closed and open and closed until on the third pivot she let them fall so wide open that her knees almost hit the glorious pink carpet. She said, “What’s wrong, Dada? You don’t look so well.”
Well, it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen it before. In fact this wasn’t the first time Mommy had pulled a fast one on me. There were elevators, tennis courts, public parking lots, even the White House. There was no venue completely safe from Mommy. It was just the fucking shock of it all! I felt like a boxer who never saw the punch coming and ended up getting knocked out cold—permanently!
Making matters worse, Chandler had stalled in mid-crawl and decided to take some time to inspect the glorious pink carpet. She was pulling on the fibers as if she’d discovered something truly wonderful, completely oblivious to what was transpiring around her.
I tried to apologize once more, but Mommy’s response to that was to stick her right index finger inside her mouth and start to suck. It was then that I lost the power of speech. She seemed to know she’d just delivered the knockout punch, so she slowly pulled her finger out of her mouth and then poured on the baby voice even more: “Ohhh, poor, poor Dada. He loves to say how wrong he is when he’s ready to come in his own pants, isn’t that right, Dada?”
I stared in disbelief and wondered if any other married
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