Oh my oh my, I am QUEEN Stepford! Missed BF terribly on Friday, not least as there was so much shite flying about at Twat Inc. that I just wanted to get home and BE.
But also, with a couple of evenings of sexile due to unforeseen circumstances and �doing him� quickly on account of extreme tiredness and work trauma, I was also desperate for the shag that I knew he would be happy to provide.
When I got home his sis was at ours, having a coffee and discussing ways to make his life better which is rich coming from her, I guess, but she�s very well intentioned. He was cooking dinner in true BF style, which meant he had a tea towel tucked in his belt and was staring at the ingredients with a hopeless look on his face. As it was nothing more challenging that a prawn chow mein, I was able to step in in true Stepfie stylee and assist without making it look like I was doing anything at all. Result: an edible dinner and BF fit to bursting with pride that he�d cooked something. Pub after (obviously) and after a few scotches I was well able (qv gagging) to suggest we get back home PDQ and do our thang.
Despite being ancient and knackered and generally �questionable�, I have to say he still shows remarkable prowess and has the good sense to have the kind of body that just looks luscious in the half light. Fuelled by whisky and the teensiest weeniest little smoke (aww, OK, it put Cheech and Chong to shame, get over it) I will admit to being rather goddess-like myself actually and did at least half a dozen things which caused me to go "SHUT UP SHUT UP, I don�t want to talk about it, Im cringing, SHUT UP" on Saturday morning during the post-match analysis (!).
Luckily, he took my after-the-horse-has-bolted modesty in good part, saying in mock Ben Dover style "Ahh, you LOVE it gurl" and leering in a stoopid goofy way. Bearing in mind he had an M&M�s promotional mug of coffee in one hand, a roll-up (saggy and yellowing) in the other and was wearing last nights slightly unpleasant boxers, it�s a wonder I ever sleep with him at all, let alone allow him to drag me down to his level of depravity. If I were to be uncharitable I would say it�s the massive cock that does it. But it isnt.
Saturday was chores day. BF up in the loft trying to fix the TV aerial and the hot water overflow (he hasn�t) and me just generally hanging around and doing the laundry and cooking and stuff like that.
Had a visit at tea-time from a woman who BF hopes is going to do some serious promotion work for him, and her boyfriend. I kissed ass in true Stepfie style, despite the fact that I know she�s married and I�ve met her husband and he seems really nice and my toes were CURLING in my sexy sandals with the effort of not saying "You WHORE, get out of my house, Jezebel! Have you any idea how the cheated partner feels in this situation? Hmm? Hmm?" Which, if Im honest, probably wouldn�t have helped.
There�s more, of course, but Im conscious of the fact that Ive been rattling on for PAGES now and am probably being boring so I�ll stop here and fill in the rest at some later juncture. Besides, BF is downstairs and has put the telly on, which is bad. VERY bad. We don�t do telly and on the rare occasion one of us DOES switch the blasted thing on, it generally means that person�s VERY VERY bored and about to become sulky.
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