A month in the sex life of one real mother

DAY 1: Hot biting and naughty slapping is the theme of the day. Not our theme – the kids'.

Our theme of the day: post-carb wallowing on separate pieces of furniture in the living room.

"You can sit over here on the couch with me," I say, patting the cushions. "I'll rub your head." Husband declines: "No, I like watching you on the new sofa."

DAY 3: Bedtime. He and I argue over who has more sex dreams. "I do," I insist. "No," says he, "I had that one I told you about the other day, the one with the . . ." "That was three weeks ago," I remind him. His hand slips limply off me. Our bedroom is steeped in the dark atmospheric tea of defeat.

DAY 4: Midafternoon. The girls are whisked away by another parent for an impromptu 40-minute play date. Husband and I convene in the bedroom. His hand returns. My hands return to my laptop – I remember that I have a deadline.

DAY 6: I peruse a catalog of sex toys at bedtime.

Hubby reads an art journal. I show him a fascinating Murano-glass thingie. "Tell me that wouldn't look good on the coffee table," I say. "We don't have a coffee table," he says, eyeing me nervously.

DAY 9: Weekend afternoon: We pop Disney princess eye-candy into the DVD player and slip nonchalantly up to the bedroom. The door does not lock. Hubby barricades it with an antique cedar chest. "That used to be my grandmother's," I say. Hubby rolls eyes. "Helpful." Somehow, a small child, using an overeager German shepherd for leverage, gains admittance. Hubby retracts into a naked, shivering ball of thwarted lust. "Why you snuggling with Daddy? Because you're married?" small child asks. "Something like that," I say.

DAY 10: Hubby and I speak only of homework, yardwork, office work, and the missing coffee filters. But I catch him looking at my tushie. "I think you sat on a magic marker," he says.

DAY 12: Hot sex dream about Kate Winslet.

Mine. Meanwhile, the hubby dreams of drowning in a swimming pool at a PTA meeting. I ask him if he spends enough quality time with himself in the shower.

DAY 15: Another dream: This time, I am toting around a mini-Michael Douglas on my hip while I simultaneously rehearse for A Chorus Line and try to sell a contemporary house full of packages of rotting meat. I tell Hubby about the dream.

"Does that turn you on?" I ask him. He laughs and laughs and then has a coughing fi t.

DAY 19: Back to the sex-toy catalog. I head to the website and put $300 worth of intriguing gadgets into the virtual shopping cart. Then I go back to CNN.com and forget about the shopping cart.

DAY 22: Hubby takes a very long shower. I wink at him when he emerges. "I was on the toilet," he says, perplexed.

DAY 25: Jackpot. Kids at school. I'm still in bed.

Hubby triumphantly scales Wife Mountain. "I didn't brush my teeth," I say. "Brush this, baby," says the Hub. After a minute of hysterical laughter, we get down to business. Score 1 for the parental units, and 1 for the dogs, who enjoy the show.

DAY 28: Small child busts in on Hubby in the bathroom, post-shower. He grabs frantically for a towel. Too late: Child gets a look at the goods and scowls.

DAY 29: Child wakes up cheerful and unscarred, performing usual a.m. shtick: "Good morning.

Pancake!" Hubby not faring as well. Still shuddering in horror over the bathroom incident, nervously visiting child psychology sites online.

DAY 31: Visit to the hardware store. Door locks win out over sex toys. Installation followed by adult high-fives and winks. Adult high-fives and winks followed by small child vomiting abruptly onto her Calico Critters collection.

This anonymous mother is a writer in the Berkshires.

Oral Sexual Sex Story

A pretty straight forward sex scene. You can fill in the story yourself.

I sat on the floor of the hotel room, the rays of light of the sun shining through the white curtains and playing across my nude body. As such I sat, waiting. Then there came a rustle at the door, and it happened. He came in.

He strode across the room to where I was laying, and stood over me without saying so much as a word.

I knelt on the floor, my face parallel to the crotch of his pants, inside of which a large bulge was rapidly growing. He removed his shirt, exposing a hard, broad chest. Next, he unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to the floor, as his boxers pointed at my face. I pulled those down as well, and his cock bounced up, hitting me below the chin. I smiled, as he grabbed my head and pressed it against his crotch, his balls pressed softly against my eyes, my nose filling with the dank smell of his testosterone factory, as his penis pointed straight up above me. He let go of my head, and I pulled my face away slowly.

I grasped his firm, stiff cock and pulled it towards my face as I leaned forward, my knees firmly planted in his plush red carpet. I rubbed it twice against the side of my face, the head tickling me as it rubbed against my soft cheek. I kissed it gently as he let out a sigh and leaned all the way back on his bed. As I pulled my head away, I could see a long, thin strand of semen leading from my moist lips to the tip of his penis. This strand, thin as a piece of thread, pulled me back in, as if it were a thick piece of rope to which I was bound.

Immediately I thrust my head upon his hard, thick member, allowing it to fill my eager, hungry mouth. I ran my tongue, up and down the fat shaft, my jaw wide open but my lips sealed around the wide, meaty base, as it’s head tickled my pharynx in just the right way. I pulled my head back, opening my mouth, and my saliva gushed out of my mouth, running down his shaft like a waterfall until it gathered around his loose, hanging balls, and eventually dripped down onto the carpet below. I laughed and proceeded to lick his cock several times, running my tongue upward from his balls as he leaned forward and ran his fingers through my hair. As he leaned back again, I grasped his throbbing, pulsing penis with both hands, and quickly began to bob my head up and down in it, allowing his tool, slippery with my own drool, to slide in and out of my mouth each time, as I twisted my hand around the lower portion.

He let out several moans before he sat up again and grasped be by my head. He slowly pushed my head down on his rock solid cock, forcing himself into the furthest reaches of my oral cavity. He then stood on both feet and began thrusting his cock into my mouth with his hips, slowly at first, then more quickly. His hands were now only being used to keep my head in place. Juices from my vagina ran down my legs, and formed a small puddle on the carpet below. I realized I had my hands free, so, placing one hand on the bed for balance, I brought my arm to my groin, and slipped my fingers into my hot, moist pussy. I slid them in and out, matching the rhythm of the hips thrusting into my mouth.

I looked up at his bare chest, then closed my eyes. I tried to let out a moan, but all that occurred was a glob of drool spraying out of my mouth by my lower lip. He quickened his pace, as did I, and I could begin to feel his balls against my chin, lightly at first, but soon slapping hard against my chin and throat, the wet sound of flesh slamming into flesh reverberating in my eardrums. It soon seemed that I could take no more, and I thrust my fingers into my pussy, falling back onto the carpet with my legs wrapped firmly around my hand.

Just as I fell into orgasm, he began to cum, standing over me, thick, hot, white cum shooting out of the head of his cock in jets, raining down upon me and slathering my chin, mouth, nose and tits. I could feel the semen landing, and hear the dull splat as it hit my flesh. The smell overpowered my senses, and as it began running in streams down my cheeks I wiped my face with my hands, then ran my tongue over it. I looked up to see him standing over me as he squatted down, his crotch meeting my face. He slapped his cock against my forehead several times, as excess semen dribbled out and ran into my hair. His balls rested just above my upper lip, and my nose was filled with the aroma of sweat, cum and drool.

He stood up and shot one final load onto my closed eyes, and in a short time I could hear the door close as I once again was alone.