TMI Thursday: The Midnight Visitor

Preach it on, Brother Wolverine!

That was sent to me by my friend (who just happens to have red hair) Alaina. I owe her many thanks.

And, hey! This is convenient. You know who else has red hair? My wife does! That leads me into a story I've been meaning to tell for a while.

One night I was feeling mighty randy, and so I did my tried-and-true method of slipping my pajamas off while the wife was in the bathroom for one of her last pee breaks before bedtime. When she came back to bed, she slipped beneath the covers and I started rubbing myself up against her booty.

"OH MY!" she said, as she noticed I had fully hoisted my mizzenmast. I performed the old reach around and massage her tits from behind while rubbing up against her trick, which--much like Colt .45--works every time. Soon, we were both naked and well into the throes of foreplay.

Finally, things came to a head and coitus was undertaken. As we were going at it, we were changing positions to maximize the carnal pleasures in which we were indulging. Eventually, we moved to one of my favorite positions, which is where I stand up at the side of the bed and go at it that way, either missionary- or doggy-style. Bow wow. It just so happened that this time, she was on her back (for maximal breast movement viewing).

I was there, giving her a jolly rogering, when suddenly I felt the bed move...differently. It was not on the same wavelength as our sexy time movements. I paused in my exuberant thrusting; she paused in her exuberant begging for more pounding. And then we heard:

*soft yawn* "Good night, Daddy."

The boy, Tank, had graced us with his presence. And not so much graced us as he had crawled up into the bed on my side, pulled the covers up over his little body, laid his little head down on the pillow, and tucked himself in.

When the kids were younger, we used to leave the bedroom door open at night during sexy time just in case something would happen where we needed to go and tend to their night time whining ailments. This practice has since fallen by the wayside as the children have gotten older. In fact, this may have been one of the last times the door was left open during sexual activities.

Allow me to remind you, I was still inside my wife!

Rather than say anything, my wife made a face like "take care of this" and nodding her head toward the almost-sleeping form of our younger child. Still inside her, I leaned down and whispered in her ear "I'm in no shape to take him back to his room!" I flexed myself inside her in order to drive home my point.

"I'm naked. Just get him and take him to his bed and get back here!" she hissed. She flexed herself to drive me toward returning him to bed.

"I'm naked, too, in case you didn't notice!" I whispered, knowing I had already lost the argument. I extricated myself from between her thighs and then, not feeling that comfortable just running him down the hall whilst I was naked and hard. I couldn't find where I had throw my clothes in the darkened corners of my room, so I went with what I could find:

I pulled a sock over it.

I picked the little boy up and carried him down the hall to his room. I tucked him in bed, kissed him good night, and then returned to find my wife was already asleep.

I kid, I kid. She was still naked. I pulled off the sock, rubbed myself a couple of times to make sure there was no sock fuzz clinging to me, and then I buried me treasure in her once more.

And now, we close the door. Every time. No questions asked.

Oh, and she lived up to her redhead billing.

*fist bumps Wolverine*