...And Speaking of Jethro

For anyone who might not be aware, Jethro is in Chiropractic School. I hesitate to say that I prodded him into it (lest I sound like and evil, manipulative, gold-digging wife), but I did. This is advantageous to me on three separate fronts. One, I have back problems. Large breasts = compressed vertebrae. Secondly, it is a good profession. You aren't trying to climb a corporate ladder and have some flexibility in your hours as well as a measure of job stability. Thirdly, Jethro is good at it and happy doing it. And when he is happy, I am happy and reverse it.

I also have neck problems. This has nothing to do with the boobs, but is due to the fact that I wake up every morning with my head pushing into the headboard for all it's worth. I am guessing that I have bad dreams and end up compressing myself against it in fear. Every morning, the top of my head is sore and my neck is all out of whack. I discussed a plan with Jethro for keeping me from damaging myself further. He suggested that I scoot way down, far from the headboard, and rest my face in his crotch. With a straight face. I admire that.

I'm settling down some about the school lunch program. I am still going to protest it, but I've decided against rioting. I have to admit, it would have been an amusing sight to see little lone me chanting on the streets of Austin, setting fire to things, getting maced, then attacked by police dogs. The One Woman Riot. OOOOOO. That should have been my blog title. Damn.

The Blow Job

Late last night, when the house was still, I wiggled under the covers to give Jethro a little head while he was sleeping. I slid his boxers down and took him in my mouth, feeling him grow harder and longer as it went deeper and deeper into my throat. He moaned in his sleep and I began to go faster, sucking it all the way back and lapping at it with my tongue. I held it tight in my mouth, swallowing as hard as I could, thinking about what a talented bitch I was, when suddenly, YECCCCCCCCHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!! BLECCCCCCCCHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! ECCHH!! ECCHH!! ECCHH!!

Jethro awoke with a major hard-on to the romantic image of his wife on all fours, back arched, spitting and retching like a cat with a hairball. It seems that through my own carelessness, a pubic hair had lodged itself in the back of my throat. It was so far back it had cleared my tonsils. I was pretty sure I was going to die - drowned in my own vomit. Jethro kindly walked out, with Mr. Jethro at full staff, and got me a glass of water. Operations resumed at a much more cautious pace.