Caution: Adult content. If you have a weak stomach or bladder control problems, you may want to take a pass on this post. It’s definitely not for the faint of heart.
My online friends have recently created a new blogger award. It’s called the Cold Shower Award, for the steamiest love scenes. In an effort to impress them with my heavy breathing skills, I thought I should write a senior love scene.
Arthur emerged from the bathroom wearing nothing but the scent of his Lever soap. He pranced seductively into the living room where she was watching reruns of Dirty Jobs on TV. That Mike Rowe is a real looker, she thought. Yum. Suddenly, he was blocking her view, standing in all his manly glory.
“Woo-woo” he exclaimed as he wiggled his hips.
“Oh for Pete’s sake! Go put something on: the curtains are open.” Gladys cried with desperation shining in her eyes.
He gave her a come-hither look and pranced into the bedroom. He knew that she was a sucker for the woo-woo dance.
He only had to wait five minutes for the next commercial break, when she suddenly appeared in the doorway. She stripped out of her sweat suit in about 10 seconds, eager to join him in bed.
“Oh, Mike! Take me now!” she cried.
He didn’t bother to correct her.
She climbed on the bed, and gave him a deep passionate kiss. Her heart was racing as she pulled back to catch her breath. She made the mistake of opening her eyes, to see that he was still making a kissy face, unaware that her lips were no longer on his.
She lay back, pulling him on top of her heaving breasts. He tenderly pushed them aside so that he could get his hips up closer to hers. He reached for the lube on the bedside table and heard a loud crack …
Gladys gazed into his eyes and held his hand as the emergency room staff flitted in and out of the room. With a groan, Arthur reached up and brushed his hand across her cheek, his heart and back aching with his love for her.
I hardly need add that these events are drawn from several of my own true experiences in the bedroom—honestly. You’re jealous.