Parental Sex-The Good, The Bad and the Hysterical
It's like a foggy memory right about now. Now it's totally different. We've been together almost 9 years. In that time, we've transitioned from mid-30's to mid-40's. Our bodies have changed. We've gone from having elementary aged and infant aged children to teens who want to have sex, and some are probably having sex more than us, and an elementary aged child. We've gone from new panties and sexy bras to some dingy, ugly panty thing I found at Walmart 3 for $1 and a nude bra which has lost it's shape somewhere along the way from being tossed in the dryer among a dozen teenage girl used towels.
And let's discuss sex. I mean, really discuss sex. Anyone else here find being discovered by their kids more upsetting then having your parents catch you as a teen?! I call it: "Batman Sex." That is sex done with 1/2 your clothes on, if not more, the TV on in the background of some boring sitcom with canned laughter. You keep the old pj top still on just in case someone of a younger age walks in on you. In addition to the 1/2 clothes on, there is also the blanket over the body thing like a cave. You sit on top of him, or he on top of you, and you pull those damn things up almost over your head, creating a "Bat Cave" where no one can see what you're doing. You have sex so fast that he finishes way before you because it's been weeks, if not months, since your last session in the Bat Cave and your ears are open, listening for any feet which may come your direction for which you instantly hop off of one another, pull up your bottoms, and sit up in bed watching TV like nothing was happening, only to be asked for a cup of water from a very capable child who loves to climb on the counters at any other time of the day but right then.
Or, even better, the kids are out of the house. You can have sex with the lights on, naked, and be loud. So exciting! You are finally childless and you spy the dishes in the sink. You know no more will be made for a few hours so you begin to think about all the things you could be doing while the kids aren't home, such as straightening up, dishes, laundry, dinner prep - heck, maybe even another night's dinner prep, and hubby is like: Come on, Bat Girl! I'm READY! So, you leave the dishes to go into your room. You quickly disrobe and begin laughing-hysterically.
There is my middle aged husband, belly paunch from needing to lose 30+ pounds, standing there in all his...glory...and there I am in my dingy underwear trying to feel sexy. OMG..it doesn't happen. I just begin to laugh. I can't help it. We look so pathetic! Then, we start to try and make out but I'm still laughing between kisses. Our bodies are like jello. We are jiggling all over. I mean his moobs touch my boobs and I laugh. I can't think of anything more scary than seeing me naked! I've seen myself looking down into a mirror. I know what I must look like when I'm on top and man, that shit is scary! I swear my entire face/neck just slide to the tip of my nose. I think I'm having a sexy type face when he bursts out in laughter and asks me if I have to pee. He tells me the best way to stop the teens from having sex would be for them to walk in on us because it would scare the hell out of them!
At this, we both laugh hysterically, he finishes and I'm still thinking about the dishes that have to be loaded in the dishwasher, the laundry that needs to be switched over and how my entire body, which used to be firm and feel sexy, has become a jello wrestling match all by itself.
We shower, put our clothes on and share a cup of wine, exchanging sweet nothing glances about the silliness we did a few minutes ago. We know it may be weeks or months before we are alone again. He knows I have on fresh but dingy undies again. I know chances are he didn't grab a fresh pair of boxers.
The kids come home and life is back to normal. But, later on, I sneak into the closet and exchange my current shirt for my Batman shirt and we both laugh hysterically.
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