And a Happy fucking New Year to you too...
Well, my new year got off to a bang, in a few senses of the word...
Following our busy Christmas, Mrs. S and I decided that we would see in the New Year quietly.
It was all going to be so good.
Some shooting.
Some fine wine.
Some dirty sex.
What could be better?
What could go wrong?
Bang One
I took the eldest two out to a family shoot. This was meant to work on a number of levels. Firstly, I’d have a bit of “quality time” with my son, who is never happier than when trying to shoot stuff (should I be worried?). Secondly, I’d prise my teenage daughter out of the house into *horror* the fresh air. Thirdly, by getting them to tramp around the countryside, they’d hopefully be tired enough to go to bed early (I think you know where this is heading…). Finally, I’d get to have some fun blasting lead in the vague direction of some pheasant and partridge.
It inevitably didn’t turn out the way it should. The daughter got pissed off at one of our dogs pulling at the lead and let him go, ruining a key drive. Everyone pissed off at us and daughter goes to sulk in the Range Rover. Son points his gun at someone in jest (a massive deal breaker of an error) and is banished to said car, where he and daughter proceed to fight. The only danger I pose to the local wildlife is that they die laughing at my ineptitude with a gun.
Bugger.
Bang Two
We had politely declined each of the New Year’s Eve party invitations. This was going to be about the family. A sumptuous feast with great wine. And a little quality time for Mr and Mrs...
The 1976 vintage Bollinger was chilling nicely in the fridge. The caviar was being spread onto blinis. I reach into the fridge for some smoked salmon and accidentally pull the bottle out. Hands full, I merely succeed in slowing its progress to the stone flags, where it explodes in a shower of glass, bubbles, and expensive wine.
Shit.
Bang Three
Ahh… The kids had been put to bed (kicking and screaming in the case of the eldest) well before midnight. Good food resting comfortably in our bellies, the wine we’d drunk was loosening things up nicely (non-vintage champagne does the trick almost as well...). The bedroom was warm and candle lit (yes, I am an old smoothie). Ravel’s Bolero is queued up on the CD player (corny, I know, but sometimes it pays to stick with the classics...). My wife was wearing a rather attractive piece of lingerie that I’d bought her for Christmas.
At last…
We kiss and cuddle, we stroke and suck, we bump and grind.
Fuck, this is good. At last something is going right. Until…
Bang Four
On the stroke of bloody midnight, the fireworks go off. There I am, sliding balls-deep into my wife from behind, having the time of my life and some fucker is trying to put me off. “Whoosh… BANG,” they go. Our country house is away from the centre of the village but my neighbour has set up a display a couple of fields away, seemingly aimed at my house. “Happy New Year, Honey.” I say, trying to keep my concentration. “Mmm, mmm, mmm!” my wife answers. Then the dogs start barking. The little one hates fireworks and the big one will bark if the little one sets him off. “Bang, BANG.” “Woof, WOOF.” Pump, pump. “Bang, BANG.” “Woof, WOOF.” Pump, pump.
Arse.
Now I’m worried that the children come down and find me humping away with mummy like a pair of demented baboons and be scarred for life.
“Shall I go and calm the dogs?” I ask.
“Noooo! Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh” is the answer.
“What about the kids?” I fret.
“D-d-don't s-s-stop! Oh, oh, oh. J-j-just h-h-hurry up-p-p. Ngggh.” was the reply.
Right, so I have:
Fuck, fuck, fuckity FUCK.
My uncle once said that there is nothing so over-rated as a bad fuck (and nothing so under-rated as a good shit). He would have laughed long and hard at the events of that night.
So my New Year was a disaster. Hope yours was better.
Mine improved beyond all measure the next night, when the dirty sex was rather more successful. Mmmm.
Enjoy…
Following our busy Christmas, Mrs. S and I decided that we would see in the New Year quietly.
It was all going to be so good.
Some shooting.
Some fine wine.
Some dirty sex.
What could be better?
What could go wrong?
Bang One
I took the eldest two out to a family shoot. This was meant to work on a number of levels. Firstly, I’d have a bit of “quality time” with my son, who is never happier than when trying to shoot stuff (should I be worried?). Secondly, I’d prise my teenage daughter out of the house into *horror* the fresh air. Thirdly, by getting them to tramp around the countryside, they’d hopefully be tired enough to go to bed early (I think you know where this is heading…). Finally, I’d get to have some fun blasting lead in the vague direction of some pheasant and partridge.
It inevitably didn’t turn out the way it should. The daughter got pissed off at one of our dogs pulling at the lead and let him go, ruining a key drive. Everyone pissed off at us and daughter goes to sulk in the Range Rover. Son points his gun at someone in jest (a massive deal breaker of an error) and is banished to said car, where he and daughter proceed to fight. The only danger I pose to the local wildlife is that they die laughing at my ineptitude with a gun.
Bugger.
Bang Two
We had politely declined each of the New Year’s Eve party invitations. This was going to be about the family. A sumptuous feast with great wine. And a little quality time for Mr and Mrs...
The 1976 vintage Bollinger was chilling nicely in the fridge. The caviar was being spread onto blinis. I reach into the fridge for some smoked salmon and accidentally pull the bottle out. Hands full, I merely succeed in slowing its progress to the stone flags, where it explodes in a shower of glass, bubbles, and expensive wine.
Shit.
Bang Three
Ahh… The kids had been put to bed (kicking and screaming in the case of the eldest) well before midnight. Good food resting comfortably in our bellies, the wine we’d drunk was loosening things up nicely (non-vintage champagne does the trick almost as well...). The bedroom was warm and candle lit (yes, I am an old smoothie). Ravel’s Bolero is queued up on the CD player (corny, I know, but sometimes it pays to stick with the classics...). My wife was wearing a rather attractive piece of lingerie that I’d bought her for Christmas.
At last…
We kiss and cuddle, we stroke and suck, we bump and grind.
Fuck, this is good. At last something is going right. Until…
Bang Four
On the stroke of bloody midnight, the fireworks go off. There I am, sliding balls-deep into my wife from behind, having the time of my life and some fucker is trying to put me off. “Whoosh… BANG,” they go. Our country house is away from the centre of the village but my neighbour has set up a display a couple of fields away, seemingly aimed at my house. “Happy New Year, Honey.” I say, trying to keep my concentration. “Mmm, mmm, mmm!” my wife answers. Then the dogs start barking. The little one hates fireworks and the big one will bark if the little one sets him off. “Bang, BANG.” “Woof, WOOF.” Pump, pump. “Bang, BANG.” “Woof, WOOF.” Pump, pump.
Arse.
Now I’m worried that the children come down and find me humping away with mummy like a pair of demented baboons and be scarred for life.
“Shall I go and calm the dogs?” I ask.
“Noooo! Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh” is the answer.
“What about the kids?” I fret.
“D-d-don't s-s-stop! Oh, oh, oh. J-j-just h-h-hurry up-p-p. Ngggh.” was the reply.
Right, so I have:
- a wife who wants to be pounded to orgasm;
- the artillery to the left of me;
- wild animals to the right; and
- the psychological welfare of my children depending on me coming in the next 30 seconds.
Fuck, fuck, fuckity FUCK.
My uncle once said that there is nothing so over-rated as a bad fuck (and nothing so under-rated as a good shit). He would have laughed long and hard at the events of that night.
So my New Year was a disaster. Hope yours was better.
Mine improved beyond all measure the next night, when the dirty sex was rather more successful. Mmmm.
Enjoy…
posted by Salvatori at 11:19 am
2 Comments:
Heh. love this blog. Not one to leave comments often, but have to say I find it amusing, touching, and damn funny. Thanks for writing it. I check it daily for new posts. really.
Why thank you, magnolia.
I sometime wonder if anyone reads it but me... It is nice to hear that people do.
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