DH was watching basketball on TV and eating a piece of toast clobbered by peanut butter and jelly. For him, this was heaven. I sauntered over. “I just want you to know…”

“Uh huh,” he said, absorbed in the game.

“…that this…is very smooth right now.” I slid my hand down my tummy on the front of my exercise pants.

“Uh huh,” he said again.

“And very soft, and very yummy.” I pushed my hand down further, between my legs. I wasn’t getting anywhere. He was still watching the damn game.

“And if you want, honey bunny, I can put peanut butter on it, maybe even some jelly…”

DH laughed loudly, his mouth full of gooey toast.

“Well, that ain’t happenin’ tonight, darlin’,” he said, smiling wryly at me. We weren’t really in that state of hot passion where we felt like licking any sweet sticky substance off each other, and we both knew it. I kissed his cheek, forehead and nose repeatedly, which he always puts up with until I’m done.

I sighed, drifting away. I never have liked peanut butter and jelly anyway.

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