Dripping taps
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| Submitted: 22/01/2007 Submitted by: Anonym |
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“What about we make an early night of it, Sid?” asked Freda, without much hope.
Sid looked briefly away from the television set and cocking one eye suspiciously asked, “What for, I’m not tired?”
“No, well, I just thought it’d be nice,” warbled Freda in what she hoped was a sultry manner, but hope had died even before it was properly born.
Sid had two standard answers to her requests, the one he’d just used, “I’m not tired,” or alternatively, “I’m too tired.”
“Na,” said Sid, slurping from his glass of ale and returning his gaze to the television set, “I’m watching the replay of the game.”
Making one last, but she knew vain endeavour, Freda tried wheedling. “Come on Sid, we haven’t done it for a long time.”
“My God, you’re not on about that again, are you? It’s disgusting at your age. What are you, a sex maniac?”
That speared Freda to the heart. “Sex maniac!” she exploded, “it’s two years since we did it and even then you didn’t make me come.”
Sid, secretly fill...
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