A Waste of Schmear
Some nights, it’s perfect. You feel like you’re deserving of an orchestra and a film crew following you around the house. You’re screwing so well and for so long that your partner is at the point of exhaustion. You flash back to your college days and think how this moment outshined even the best of those.
And then, other nights you feel like you’re 40, stuck in an 18 year old virgin’s head for a moment, fumbling your way thru laughter, awkward foreplay and bad jokes.
~*~*~*TAKE 1~*~*~*
“Why don’t you at least say something sexy in that voice…” (Smeagol’s voice from Lord of the Rings. I’m freakishly good at it.)
So I say, in full Andy Circus style, “Something sexy in that voice–”
“Oh, Christ, Lo…”
We laugh incessantly and then stop. We are one pitchfork away from a Hee Haw episode and nowhere NEAR the porno that we’ve been insinuating we wanted all day in our naughty little phone calls to each other.
~*~*~*~TAKE 2*~*~*~*
“It feels like I’ve been smoking pot! I can’t stop laughing.”
“Have you?”
“No!”
“What did you smoke then?”
“Nothing!”
~*~*~*TAKE 3~*~*~*
“Oww!”
“What?”
“You’re on my hair!”
“Am I? Sorry.”
~*~*TAKE 4~*~*
“Come on, Lo. I missed you today.”
“I missed you too.” He reached down between my legs, parted them and then rubbed me gently.
“Honey, I’m nowhere near ready with all this laughing.”
“I know.” I could feel the warm, wet oil on his fingers as he slid them about my lips and inside me.
“Oh, you have schmear!” We both started laughing.
“I have what?”
“Oh, god. I can’t believe I said that.”
“Schmear? What are you a bagel or Yiddish?”
“Ugh, this isn’t going to happen, is it? I think that killed it.”
“Goodnight Gracie.”
“Goodnight, Johnboy.” (long pause) “I love you?”
“I love you too. Get over here and cuddle with me at least. And, get some sleep. I’m going to fuck you in the morning.”
So I sit here, all hyped up about nothing, feeling quite slippery between my legs with a snoring J at my side. I love our childish moments. We really are stupid together. I think I’ll take my anticipatory lube job to bed…
sex, porn film, intimacy, laughter in bed
January 5th, 2007 at 8:38 am
You’ve ruined a bagel with a schmear of creamcheese for me for life. I will never be able to go in to the Carnegie Deli again for fear of laughing out loud (or being consumed with lusty thoughts).
“Moishe, an everything with a schmear.”
Oy.
January 5th, 2007 at 9:31 am
I have a feeling J feels the same. Perhaps you two can switch to an indulgence in French pastries instead, mon ami.
January 5th, 2007 at 11:50 am
Too funny…..and yet….so perfect…
January 5th, 2007 at 12:06 pm
French is nice, but nothing beats a warm sfogliatella.
J. and I could probably swap anecdotes about strong, passionate, sexy, contrary, jealous, capricious, marvelous women.
January 5th, 2007 at 1:01 pm
Only you, dear lola, could work LOTR, a yiddish deli, voice impersonation and vaginal readiness into one blog…
January 5th, 2007 at 1:11 pm
What’s really amusing is that thanks to the cunning little algorithms of Google, now I have bagel ads on my blog…That’s fucking hilarious.
January 5th, 2007 at 1:32 pm
New York-style, kettle boiled bagels. Don’t know what they have to do with fucking, unless you need an extra hole or two.
January 6th, 2007 at 3:05 am
[...] …to go to bed and read after an intense day’s activities. But it didn’t quite work out like that. Do you get the giggles in bed, for no apparent reason? We do - often. And we’re not alone, it appears, having read a delightful post by Lola David on her blog “Between the Sheets”. [...]