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Having twice as much sex

Two professional women: both married with kids and both juggling clients, reports, potty training, packed lunches, chores, dogs, cats, errands, husbands and …”what was that you said? SEX?”
That three-letter word that once was so frequent, so liberating, so yummy has been sidelined in a sea of life, work and snot.
It is time.
Time to put sex back on a pedestal by injecting some extra spice into our relationships.

Fuzzy Math

My initial objection to The Duchess was that doubling the pleasure for Mr. Lee and me would translate to a total of one in a week since we average about one time every two. She would have none of that – I blame the Metric system. Then, she tried to set a standard week timeline, but I had to buck that one – Mr. Lee works nights.

It still took us two weeks (thank heavens the site was in launch mode). The first week, our kids were out of town, and we came outof the gate strong, logging three times in 24 hours. Go ahead, absorb that one. Three times, 24 hours.

You would think we would have managed to get one more time in in the following six days, but come the following Thursday at midnight, we hadn’t. I first blamed the kids coming home, then realized that by extending into another week, Mr. Lee had guaranteed his action. Son of a…

Week two began with us returning to our opportunistic roots to steal away while the kids were in the bath. Three nights in a row we would turn on the water, strip the kids, then strip down to do it. The faucet became a veritable Pavlov’s bell for wee-Lee. On the fourth night, Mr. Lee had eaten one too many chicken wings (seriously) to be of use to me. I should note that he also believes this site is a ploy to get pregnant again, but if you knew The Duchess, you’d know I needed to get that fourth time in.

And then my dad came to visit. And then, Mr. Lee was back to work after his days off. And then, it was Sunday morning and he was returning from work four hours later than usual, which usually means him complaining about how stupid people are and how tired he is. Luckily, he was kind of jacked up, and he walked in wearing that police uniform and mirrored Top Gun aviators. We scrambled since it was mid-day and nowhere near bathtime. I told my daughter I had to doctor something on daddy’s bottom (seriously), so we kicked her out, locked the door, and went to work.

Ten minutes and a googol plex knocks on our door later, and we had successfully doubled our pleasure (while Mr. Lee managed to octuple his endurance).

Mission accomplished.

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