Condom Row

Late last night, while looking for a hair product with my daughter at the Target pharmacy, we passed a couple comparing spermicidal lubricants. He was somewhat ordinary looking, while she was predominantly Asian with a fair Caucasian strain, and smoldering hot. My thoughts of the ensuing while were, "They're going to be having sex tonight. More specifically, she's going to be having sex tonight, and probably within a matter of minutes from now. I wonder what she looks like naked? I wonder what she feels like naked? I wonder how she and I would feel, naked, together?"

My boss's son's girlfriend --a pleasant enough face but a breathtakingly statuesque, not waifish at all but instead a strong-fit 5'9" figure-- wore a dress to our company Christmas party tonight that had me failing to focus on much else, including my beautiful wife, whose own body is large and aching with our forthcoming son, any time she entered my field of vision. Hard to describe this dress, except that it was more or less similar to those shown here, except of a heavier, winter-weight knitted fabric, fitted at the waist and tighter on the chest and trunk, and barely reached mid-thigh. And the heels were almost vertical, which tended to accentuate everything as intended. When we got home, I said to my wife:

"I need to apologize to you. Tonight there were lots of women dressed for the party and showing a lot more than they normally do at work, and, to put it succinctly, I didn't do a very good job of averting my eyes. In fact, I didn't really try."

"Yeah, there was a lot of cleavage there. I didn't avert my eyes either, and wondered how these girls really felt about showing so much of themselves."

"Well, it wasn't exactly the cleavage I was noticing, and your thoughts when you're not averting your eyes are probably a bit different from my thoughts under those circumstances."

"So you were checking out there legs and wondering what they'd feel like in your hands."

"Something along those lines, yes."

Sigh. Nod. "Yeah, I know."