Sunday afternoon I had a sex date with Wes.  You know me.  I was totally looking forward to it and READY to fuck!  *horny grin* 

But Wes had spent four days eating turkey sandwiches at his fav bar over the holidays.  Of course, this wasn’t your normal turkey.  Nah, this was one of those turkeys deep-fried in peanut oil, something people love to do down here in the Deep South (The Land of Strokes & High Blood Pressure).  Oh, and he’d been drinking vodka with those sandwiches, too.  Not what his A-Fib heart condition would consider the “ideal diet.”  Not even close. 

So Sunday afternoon his pulse was erratic.  Gee, I’m shocked.  Not!

“I think I’m gonna cancel our sex date,” he announces Sunday afternoon, rubbing his heart.  “I don’t feel so good.”

Cancel our sex date?  HORRORS!!!

“Oh, no you don’t,” I reply.  “I told you fried turkey was bad for you.  Besides it’s just an extra heartbeat.  Your heart doc said it’s no big deal.”

Wes glares at me.  Hey, if the man is gonna abuse his bod he gets no sympathy from me, ya know?

“So take a Viagra,” I continue.  “Sex is good for your heart.  We can just fuck your heartbeat back to normal.”  I waggle my eyebrows.  “What do you think?”

“I think you’re badgering the hell outta me as usual,” Wes grumbles, walking into the kitchen to take a Viagra before returning to his reclining chair to watch sports on TV.

An hour later I finish up on computer and look over the balcony into the den.  “Ready to fuck?”

Wes looks up at me.  “Wild Bill Hickok and I have something in common now.”

“Huh?”  I have no idea what the man is talking about.

“Wild Bill Hickok died in Deadwood, South Dakota,” he says, grinning like crazy.

“Huh?”

Wes looks down at his dick.  “Now I’ve got dead wood too.”

Okay, this is what I get for marrying a history buff. 

“That is hysterical!” I exclaim, tears running down my cheeks.  “You’re the only person in the entire world who would make that connection.”

Wes shakes his head.  “You’re enjoying this waaaaaaay too much, darlin’.  It’s not THAT funny.”  He must have seen the light bulb go off in my head.  “Do NOT write about this on your blog,” he warns.  “I should be more careful what I say to you.  Our entire sex life is all over the web.”

True.

I just laugh and dash into the bedroom to change the sheets on the bed and insert a Liquibead.  After Wes takes a shower I find him lying spread eagle on the bed.  Sure enough, he’s got dead wood.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” I say, stripping off my black silk cami.

“I don’t feel a thing,” he replies, looking down at his limp dick and then over at me.  “Usually, Viagra makes me tingle before I get hard.”  He looks back at his dick.  “No tingling.  Nada.”

“Well, you’re probably low on testosterone,” I muse, crawling across the bed. 

But I don’t get a chance to ponder this dilemma, because Wes tackles me and does amazing things to my nipples with his tongue and fingers.  Yeah, I was howling with joy.  *horny grin*

But afterwards his dick is still limp. 

“No problem, “ I say, scurrying between his legs.  “I can fix this.”  I swallow his dick to the root and apply one of my fav BJ techniques.  In no time he’s hard as a flagpole.

Alrightyyyy!

“Were’s that condom?” Wes growls, his eyes dark with lust.

I jump off the bed and grab a condom.  I quickly slip it on his gorgeously hard cock and then squirt a blob of KY in my hands, rubbing them together to warm the lube before I apply it to the condom.

Then I jump back on the bed, and Wes slides into me with one long thrust.  YOWZA!  That feels soooooo good!

Have I mentioned in the last 10 minutes how much I LOVE sex?  Well, I do.  We go two rounds, and Wes gives me 7-8 orgasms.  I can’t remember the exact number, because I was too busy screaming and growling my way through them.  Yeah, it was WONDERFUL!

Finally, Wes shouts his release and collapses on the bed.

“I love sex,” I purr, wrapping myself around him like an ivy vine.

“I know, darlin’,” he chuckles, stripping off the condom.  “Hand me a tissue.”

I give him the box and watch him clean himself up.  “See?” I say, while we cuddle.  “I didn’t kill you with sex after all.  You’re still alive.”

Wes smiles.  “Just barely.” 

“What do you think about this title?” I muse.  “Wild Bill Hickok Meets the Naughty Pussycat.”

“You wouldn’t!” he growls, glaring at me.

“Oh, yes, I would, Wild Bill!” I exclaim, jumping off the bed and dashing down the hall to my bathroom before he catches me.  I’m laughing so hard I’m lucky I don’t trip over one of the cats.

Hey, sometimes being married to a history buff comes in reallllllly handy.  Who knew?  LMAO!!!

xoxo
Laura Stamps
The Magickal Sex Goddess
Author of Paranormal Erotica & Romance Novels
(Witches, Shapeshifters, Vampires)
laura@laurastamps.com
To read excerpts from my novels:
http://www.LauraStamps.blogspot.com
Check out my verrrrry naughty blog:
http://www.LauraStamps.com
My “Laura Stamps” Fan Page at Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/sexwitch
Follow me on Twitter at:
http://twitter.com/naughtypussycat

This entry was posted on Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009 at 10:11 am and is filed under Naughty Notes, Sex. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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