Shaved BallsAfter years of marriage, sex, and children I have developed a keen sense for Jane’s frequent and explicit innuendos. The kind that arrive out of nowhere when I would have otherwise assumed sex was the furthest thing from her mind.

The other night at dinner, somewhere between “how’s the meatloaf?” and “pass the ketchup”, Jane casually slipped in a very direct and sexually suggestive request. It was crafted in such an artful way that it zipped right past the delicate ears of our pre-teen children without so much as a raised eyebrow. But I didn’t miss it, I took note.

The next morning I dug out the clippers, electric shaver, talcum powder, and set to work shaving my balls. This is something I normally do with some regularity, but Jane was right… my sack had been neglected and was beginning to get a bit shaggy. When she’s right, she’s right.

As I clipped and shaved, my imagination began to run wild with the day’s possibilities. Jane’s fingers and tongue… her warmth, the gentle grasp of her lips, and her passionate worship of the essence of my manhood. Was the sun actually brighter today, or was that just my imagination?

I made a mess of the bathroom but I sure looked and felt great. There’s nothing like the satin soft feel of freshly shaved balls still lightly powdered with fresh talc. That’s when my observant and tactfully suggestive wife walked in… and I proudly showed her the fruits of my labor. With hips angled gently forward and a look of smug and expectant pride on my face, I presented myself for inspection.

“Here you go dear, all shaved and ready to go!”

She looked at me with confused intrigue… “what”?

“You remember… last night? At dinner you said ‘the boys need a haircut‘”.

The look in her beautiful blue eyes became more and more difficult to interpret as sexy. Her eyes then closed and did a slow roll behind her eyelids before opening again… and she said, “I was talking about our sons“.