Monday, April 12, 2010
you won't see this in the ads...
Now, as to the straw that broke our marital camel’s back and led us to this point…
Sadly, the bed-action was a major concern in more ways than one; I could deal with the sex drought we had been experiencing…even though it was threatening to become full-blown climate change.
Ironically it was the increasingly regular Great Floods that threatened to tear us apart; my wife used to pee in the bed…
Specifically, she used to come home after a big night out, full of pills and vodka, then fall asleep and wet the bed. Now, I loved her dearly…and the bed-wetting was not intentional, nor symptomatic of any deep-rooted emotional condition. She just couldn’t control her bladder after a massive night out !!! At this stage I should point out that there are good wet-spots and bad wet-spots in bed. I don’t much like sleeping on either…but given the choice I would much rather lie in a small pool of my own jizz than a lake of someone else’s pee. I suspect most people other than Germans feel the same way.
My wife would fall into bed and literally pass out with a cocktail of date-rape ingredients steadily fermenting inside her, then some time in the middle of the night she would quietly evacuate her bladder.
I imagine that seen from overhead, without the blankets covering her, she must have looked like a little angel lying there so peacefully; like a Snow-Angel…except surrounded by a halo of her own urine. A Pee-Angel if you like. At some point, when her warm little halo cooled, she’d roll over seeking drier, warmer pastures…and I’d wake up with her clamped to my thigh like a limpet.
The next day she would dutifully scrub the mattress with disinfectant after which I would drag it out on to the balcony and let it dry. The Japanese building owners frowned on even leaving beach towels draped on the balconies, yet strangely the matter of our mattress being out there once a month didn’t seem to draw much attention.
Then one day whilst out shopping for groceries with my wife, I saw a potential solution to our problem; adult disposable nappies…oversized plastic diapers…’Huggies’ for Big People.
My wife totally embraced the idea of wearing one when she was off her face in bed, thought it was marvelous in fact and couldn’t wait to try one out. The problem was that what she agreed to when sober was one thing…getting her to put a nappy on when drunk and stoned was another proposition entirely.
Our first live test came a few days later, when my wife rang me at work to say she was going out with her girlfriends and that they would be clubbing and she would be home quite late. No problem…I encouraged her to go dancing with her friends…since it got me out of having to do it.
So that night I waited for my little Pee Angel to come home; I waited and waited and waited. Then at 1-00am I went to bed after first dead-locking the front door and taping her adult nappy to the exterior of it, along with a lovely note explaining what she needed to do before I let her in. There were only two units on each floor of the building and they were on opposite sides, so privacy was never going to be an issue.
At 4-00am my wife staggered home and woke me with her furious banging on the front door, so I got out of bed and went to greet her.
Looking through the spy-hole I could see she was still fully dressed and also utterly spannered, so I put on my best Little Red Riding Hood voice and asked ‘Who is it ??’
She answered in her best Linda Blair voice, ‘You fucking know damn well fucking who it fucking is so let me in you fucking cunt.’
‘Have you got your ‘Huggy’ on like we agreed ??’
‘No I don’t have my fucking ‘Huggy’ on and I’m not fucking putting it on you fucking cunt.’
‘Why not, baby ??’
‘Coz it’s fucking embarrassing and you fucking know it.’
‘No…embarrassing is hanging the mattress out to dry each month. This is what we agreed we’d try instead.’
‘You open this fucking door now you fucking cunt.’
‘OK…I’ll put the fucking nappy on…there I’m putting it on…are you happy now you fucking asshole ??’
‘Darling I can see you through the peep-thingy…and you’re still fully dressed.’
‘Open this fucking door or I’ll kill you.’
‘Put your ‘Huggy’ on and you can come in.’
After about ten minutes of negotiations she took off her clothes and put her ‘Huggy’ on, leaving her club-wear in a pile outside the door. I then opened the front door and she steamed in…giving me the finger as she walked past then ripping off her nappy and throwing it to the floor as she strode down the hall and promptly fell into bed.
In less than a minute she was asleep, by which time I had collected her discarded clothing plus the unused ‘Huggy’ and joined her in the bedroom, where I lifted up her fabulous ass and lovingly put the nappy on as though she were a child; a fifty-two kilogram, unconscious child.
The next morning we awoke to find her ‘Huggy’ full but the mattress completely dry…
‘Oh Fingers this worked perfectly…I’m so glad I put my ‘Huggy’ on last night before I went to bed.’
‘Yes, baby…you were just adorable about it all…’