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Walter had been away deployed with his unit oversees for over a year. Elizabeth, his loyal wife and ardent lover, managed their home and business in his absence. The pharmacy had been in the family for five generations. Though it …...

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Air against Fire

Filed Under , , on May 23rd, 2015

Alternative Medicine

By Seth Kabala

Walter had been away deployed with his unit oversees for over a year. Elizabeth, his loyal wife and ardent lover, managed their home and business in his absence. The pharmacy had been in the family for five generations. Though it wasn’t the sexiest of operations, it provided a healthy income, which the couple used to finance the best home, fashion, and lifestyle for themselves and their children.

Elizabeth was a tall brunette, her hair curling into tight ringlets without the aid of any product. She had a thin, muscular figure from constant running and lifting. She was happy with her muscularity and strength, though she sometimes wished her breasts were softer and heavier instead of just modestly round, firm, and small.

However, Walter, a former college sprinting track star and no slouch in the gym himself, claimed he loved every part of her, and he proved it every opportunity he got. Sadly, those opportunities had been barren since his departure. But now, tonight even, he was coming home–back to the family, the pharmacy, and back to her, to give her some medicine no pharmacy could provide, of which he was the single, potent source.

Regular readers of this column will note that I do not mince words when it comes to describing the dalliances of mine and my wife’s sex life. We’re married. We love each other. We love sex. We think you should, too. We think you should know how great we are. Some may consider that last comment superfluous, but I consider it intentionally relevant. Everyone needs a role model. Why shouldn’t we be yours?

That said, the title of this piece has nothing to do with our sex life. If you’re a bible pounding, sermon screaming, hell fire and brimstone heating of the collective loins of the church church-goer, you probably haven’t read this far, but on the off-chance you’re feeling rebellious (my first joke), rest assured this piece, or the rest of it, anyway, is wholesome, though I take no responsibility for unintended interpretations of double entendres.

We recently painted the exterior of our house. My wife, Amy, did a lot of the painting. Before I go on any further, I must say this: Amy, you’re awesome, and while viewing you up on the ladder, your figure illuminated in silhouette by sunlight from behind, I never once imagined you naked in full body paint. I can control my impulses.

Keeping our kids inside on a nice day is like trying to put the lid back on a beehive. They might come back of their own volition–eventually. After all, who doesn’t like to come home to a big pot of honey? Graham crackers, for our kids. But trying to force the issue will just result in everyone getting hurt. You need to lubricate the situation. Food bribes. I’m talking food bribes, people. What is wrong with you?

Our children have the energy of the gods of Olympus, never-ending and annoying. Once, while Amy was up on the ladder, Ella zoomed by too close, turning the tool into an instant vibrator, sending waves of sensations through Amy’s body–waves of terror, of course. Amy told Ella she needed to stay away from the ladder while we were painting.

Ella’s response: “I’ll just pound on you, and you’ll be okay.”

First of all, pounding on the victim of a fall from a ladder will likely do more harm than good.

Second, pounding Mommy is Daddy’s job, wherever and whenever said pounding is required.

Hmm, perhaps the body paint thing will work out after all.

 

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Seth Kabala

About: Seth Kabala
Seth is an entrepreneur, writer, and musician. He lives with his wife and three children in Portland, OR.

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