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I was so preoccupied with movies my own delicious feeling of relief that I was floating down to earth before I felt her stomach muscles begin to undulate while her arms pulled me tightly against her movies breast. Her spasms gradually faded, and she pushed against my chest. “Denny, you’re getting awfully heavy. Besides, I’ve got to douche.” She scrambled off the bed, and with her hand cupped between her thighs, ran movies into the bathroom. When she returned a few minues later, I welcomed her with open arms, but she shook her head. “I didn’t bring my diaphram,” she said, “and I don’t want to get knocked up. I better sleep on the couch.” Sadly, we never had an encore. I didn’t press the issue because there was no doubt about my potency. Both my children had been planned — for another time.
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