Too Good To Last

TMI ALERT! (way more than normal, which is saying something)

There for a couple weeks, I was getting laid more regularly than I had since ex #2 and I finally got our join-spouse assignment back in 1994. But all good things must come to an end. I just wish it hadn’t happened so soon.

I’m not cleared for access while B’s eldest is home, at least not while she is home and awake anyway. So, our time together is as follows.

During the week, after the kids are safely at school and daycare, we can be together until the bus comes to drop off Eldest Spawn. This is only a little over six hours, and is B’s only time during the day when she can sleep. So, in order for her to get enough sleep to function, our playtime is limited to an hour or less. Usually less. A lot less. Then we sleep until the alarm reminds us that the bus is enroute. Then, I’ll disappear if we’re at her house, or she’ll get dressed and head home if we’re at my place.

On weekends that we don’t work, each night I wait until she tells me that the kids are down for the night, and then I sneak in and stay until 0600 or so, when the risk of ES waking up and finding me in her mother’s bed gets uncomfortably high. This is far from ideal, as ES has entered the room twice while I was there. Fortunately, neither time found us mid-coitus, and we don’t think she noticed my presence. I sleep on the far side of the bed, blocked for the most part by B, for that very reason.

The first time, the light stayed off. After that incident, I adjusted the strike plate so that the latch lined up properly, allowing the door to be locked. Sort of. The second time, ES kicked the door open and flipped the light on all in about a second and a half. B was up like she’d been shot, throwing her pillow over the blanket that I was already under as she got up. Impressive, since she had been dead asleep at the time. After that, I tried to increase the security of the lock, but interior doors on 1970-ish mobile homes leave a lot to be desired.

Anyway, back to whining about the recent drought. It started two weeks ago. Sunday night found me as sick as a dog, so we stayed apart Monday through Wednesday mornings. We did the usual Thursday morning. Friday mornings are for errands, since that begins our weekend. Often we never make it to bed, because we know that we will be together that night. Such was the case that day. Friday night was normal.

Saturday night was another story. The kids were late going to sleep, so our night started well after midnight. I had just finished peeling her off the ceiling after her umpteenth orgasm (seriously not an exaggeration – B really responds to me like no one else ever has), and was getting ready to climb on for the main event when we heard a car door slam a little too close for comfort.

She took that opportunity to tell me that her drug addict ex with a documented history of violence had stopped by earlier in the week, and for some reason she thought it might be him. At 0200. Well, Mr. Happy drew up inside at this news, and I scrambled for my gun and flashlight. It turned out to be her next door neighbor, but it took quite a while for enough of the adrenaline to filter out so that the festivities could resume. Which they eventually did, but with much less vigor than before.

On Sunday, she started developing a sore throat, which kept us separated on Monday and Tuesday mornings. Thank God for Wednesday and Thursday, which were normal.

I had already made arrangements to move some household items and a washer and dryer that a kind soul had donated to B on Friday morning. FaucetCompany had scheduled us to work Friday night, so I left B at home so she could sleep while I took care of moving everything. She got a call from work about an hour after she got to sleep, accusing her of doing something wrong during the previous shift. This cost her a good chunk of her available sleep time. At 1230, FaucetCompany made the last minute decision not to run. Cool! We have our weekend.

But it was not to be. That night, B fell asleep while talking to me, waiting for the kids to drift deeply enough into dreamland for me to come over. I could have woke her, but I tried to do the unselfish thing, and let her sleep undisturbed. On Saturday, she had a thing with her kids, so I was stuck at home, waiting for that night. She ended up running into a cousin whom she hadn’t seen in years, and they decided to go out for some adult beverages that night. So, no playtime for Grumpy.

Sunday night, we were back to work. Then, the operator of the daycare where Youngest Spawn is enrolled had to shut down Monday and Tuesday for medical reasons. Kid in the house means Grumpy has to stay away.

Which brings us to this morning. B is starting to come down with something else, and she had to meet the dude who is replacing the windshield that jackass (her ex) broke a couple months ago, before she moved out and he officially became her ex. For probably the first time in a decade, jackass is doing something right. He’s paying for the new windshield. Which means that one of his buddies is doing the work. Which means that Grumpy can’t be there. Because jackass doesn’t and can’t know that Grumpy is taking care of what he never appreciated. And if he found out, at the very least, he’d stop watching the kids at night while B works. Which is a problem we’re working very hard to solve, but have been unsuccessful so far.

I was offered the opportunity to stay over a few hours and collect some overtime pay today, and since there was no pussy to be had, I agreed.

B just texted me. She’s feeling much worse, so it is very likely that tomorrow will find us in separate beds again. On Friday, I’m taking her to a medical appointment, which means no time to play. This weekend is out because as of right now, I am scheduled to work both days.

So Grumpy is feeling particularly grumpy right now. Hopefully the drought will end soon.

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2 Responses to Too Good To Last

  1. Wraith says:

    This is where B sets some parental limits and boundaries concerning ES, and informs her that she IS NOT to enter her mother’s room without a) knocking and b) being given permission to enter. This IS what’s going to happen, right? 😕

    • alaskan454 says:

      ES got her ass chewed, maybe worse. She knows better than to do what she did. But, having never been a parent, I don’t get into even suggesting what she should do. Such things have gotten me in deep shit in the past in earlier relationships, and I try to learn from my mistakes.

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