moving and the menstrual cycle
I moved down the hill this week. While schlepping the bed out of the U-Haul and into the bedroom of the new house, I noticed faint remnants of menstrual stains on the mattress from the day in 2001 when Pamela Palmer and I were making love like tigers.
It was probably the fifth or sixth time we had sex, and nothing as simple as a cycle in nature was going to stop us. For an hour I was her tampon, although the seal was not exactly seaworthy.
The menstrual fluid had ruined one of the sheets, which I tossed. I tried to get the stains out of the mattress, and scrubbed it clean with a scouring pads and brushes. This cleaning technology was no match for the power of a woman.
The stains triggered a pleasant memory. It made me smile.
It was probably the fifth or sixth time we had sex, and nothing as simple as a cycle in nature was going to stop us. For an hour I was her tampon, although the seal was not exactly seaworthy.
The menstrual fluid had ruined one of the sheets, which I tossed. I tried to get the stains out of the mattress, and scrubbed it clean with a scouring pads and brushes. This cleaning technology was no match for the power of a woman.
The stains triggered a pleasant memory. It made me smile.
posted by iggy-reilly at 8:35 AM
3 Comments:
My sunday morning blog-browsing leg me to yours -- and I read the whole thing. Fascinating glimpses....
For a man to be a seaworthy plug would prouve too abrasive, the females of the specie would scratch and squeel, and we would have to poke an run as tom cats do. Maybe not a bad thing! In the future, I'll keep a hand full of sand in my pocket.
Ahhhh.....the joys of crime scene sex....
*giggling*
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