Consumer Friendly InnuendoWe had butt sex and then we went grocery shopping. That’s how it works now. At some point after squeezing the kids out and signing the mortgage, household chores became acceptable after play.

Actually, it works at the other end of the sexual equation too. My vacuuming of the house is now considered “first base”, its effectiveness being on par with that of Jose Cuervo. But I digress.

So there we are at the store, walking isle by isle, Jane still with that wonderful glow in her ass that everyone who has ever enjoyed the receiving end of anal sex knows. The feeling is muscle memory of a good stretch, it echos the pleasurable presence of something seductively foreign back there, and can be a welcome distraction from mundane post-sex commitments.

We were filling the wobbly wheeled basket with mac-n-cheese, chocolate frosted sugar bombs, and acne medicine while still enjoying the high of our earlier encounter. I’m certain there were inappropriate displays of affection, likely to include groping, but the details are fuzzy now.

The soothingly quiet croons of Barry Manilow floating down from the ceiling speakers were abruptly interrupted by a starkly louder store manager who’s nasally tone immediately elicited old memories of both Ma Bell and Lily Tomlin. If PA systems were designed to grab attention, this system was an overachiever.

[click… crackle… squeal]


[click… return of crooning]

Jane and I stopped. We smirked immaturely and looked at each other with knowing eyes. Then I said, “I’ll wait for you here, dear”.