Chapter 3 Chapter 3 The Hand - A Modern Horror Story
On a night full of dark winds and ghostly shadows, the heavy rain beats on the windows, and the wind blows the treetops. The heroine feels "that hand" on her skin, and goose bumps appear all over her body, and she curls up into a ball.
Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, she was too frightened to cry out, she flinched, she trembled, the body in the white lace underwear shrank, shrunk again...
Horror movies love to shoot this kind of plot, and it is also every woman's worst nightmare.
Men make horror movies like doppelgangers, aliens, monstrosities... Werewolves, zombies, vampires, Frankenstein scare men, but scare women (well! exhausted moms), It's "the hand," the hand that lifts the sheets when all you want is a good night's sleep.
You really want to back off and yell, "Don't! Don't! I'm a severely sleep-deprived mom!" You pretend you have catatonia, you have pneumonia, you're dead, just to get out of it. A few fingers roaming around.
"That hand" sneaks out from the other side of the double bed, grabs your nipple like a demon, and pinches it non-stop.That's their gesture of asking for marriage rights, no one cares if you are tired to the bone.
What's so scary about the ogre in the movie? "That Hand" is the horror movie I want to make the most, and it will definitely resonate with mothers all over the world. To the rails or locked in the tower, and don't let me fall into 'the hand'!"
I'm asking for trouble, I shouldn't have kissed Roy on the ear when we got home from Jess's party when we said good night.How did I forget so damn well—every husband treats little gestures of affection as foreplay to sex!
Roy wraps his tongue around my molars once, twice, once, twice, itching so much that I want to turn on the TV and watch the finale of the darts match.
I was displeased to find that what Jess said hit the nail on the head, the wife would really try her best to pour cold water on her husband, even erecting barbed wire beside the bed, or setting up animal traps, but unfortunately, usually nothing can be done!
When a husband wants to roll in a haystack in the barn with his wife, who is six weeks old, the mother really just wants to bundle him into a haystack and throw him in the barn.
I did joke in front of my girlfriends that my favorite position was dog crawl - when he begged me I had to roll over and play dead.But I never admitted to myself that I didn't actually want to.
When Roy climbs on top of me and beats me up like I just bought a DIY project, I start listing the excuses I used to hold him back last year—
1. If I catch a cold, I will infect him. (Anyone with as many colds as I did last year must have an iron lung!)
Second, the vagina is infected with fungus and becomes inflamed. (Because of an unfounded cold, I took unneeded penicillin.)
3. Rub yogurt on your ass. (To treat unwarranted vaginal inflammation, use yogurt, also a white paste, to disguise medicine.)
4. Treat him like a baby, put a nipple in his mouth, and say, "Who's Mommy's favorite, drooling baby?"
5. Because the children have nightmares, let them sleep together on the big bed. (Remember to show the kids horror movies before bedtime.)
6. The smoke alarm that triggered the fire prevention wetted his enthusiasm.
7. Ask him what posture he likes, and laugh wildly after he answers.
8. Pretending to be sexually active. "Hey, I want to take all our clothes off with my teeth, wrestle in jelly, hide strawberries in my place for you to dig out with your tongue, and smear us all in chocolate, refer to Kamasutra Play it in the same position for a few hours, then go out on the sidewalk to increase the stimulation, get an orgasm, and then do it again in ten minutes! How about it? Do you want to join in the festivities?" For added effect, you also have to test tires. Without Qi, pinch his two small balls.
If all the usual tricks fail, you can still make a fuss about his penis.
The wife can ask loudly: "Has it gone in?" Then whisper: "Since ancient times, everyone has said that a man with small equipment has a greater personality, and your personality is super great, my dear, really, super great! "
Variations are as follows: "Size really doesn't matter, what matters...is size."
The "swelling medicine" that has been tried and proven to be effective by many people is as follows--
1. "What should I do with it... regular dental floss?"
2. "Which of the seven dwarves are you?"
3. "A toothpick! What's going on? There's food between my teeth?"
4. "Honey, I saw them perform surgery on "Plastic Spring and Autumn" to deal with this kind of thing."
If you like things with a little more imagination, find a day to explain to your husband that you only really enjoy sex when you're running errands with your best friends, and only when he gets excited and thinks you're going to have a threesome with some beautiful woman Tell the truth - your closest best friend is a gay manicurist named Merlin who does your nails.
If you really want to sleep, welcome to use my favorite procrastination technique, but do it carefully, so as not to cause a heart attack - when the husband in the house sneaks behind you and you feel his words are about to move, tell him The IRS called today to check his taxes.Now not only is he completely devoid of sexual interest, he even loses most of his drowsiness, and you don't even have to endure his snoring logically, what a best of both worlds!
Of course, you can also be more exaggerated when you say every sentence, start with "The Prophet said" to extinguish his fire, but you must use it carefully. If you learn too much, your husband will say "I" three times. Divorce you" and your marriage is over, or he thinks he has the right to ask for more wives.
As I pondered all of the above, I noticed that the mattress springs were moaning, as if they were making fun of poor me.After thinking about what new color to paint the ceiling, I started counting how many pairs of shoes I had.Twenty-eight pairs. After tracing the history of each pair of shoes, I came up with this number.
When you have a lot of time, there are so many things to think about!
I took a sudden, alert breath.God!What's wrong with me?I stopped even faking orgasms and gave up at all.The formal form we often have to fill out, after the name, address, and age, the next column is usually Sex, I think I will write in the future: Exempt if possible.
Roy didn't even bother to kiss, or kiss my neck, and rolled me on my side as usual.Jess guessed it again!Looking back, we haven't kissed in ages, when did that stop?
The rhythm of Lowe's jabs is so regular I could almost draw an illustration.He never asked me what position I liked, when I was about to tell him he started groping for my clit but couldn't find it...
Why can a man assemble a rocket launcher in outer space through the Internet, but he can't find it... Oh, wait, it works!Houston, we launched.
However, although the feeling of joy spread all over my body, I could only keep silent.God!I certainly can't "encourage" this guy, can I?That would make me even less likely to sleep!
I used to be the kind of woman who pretended to have an orgasm, and now I'm pretending I don't feel anything!
I didn't have to hide it for too long though, the pleasant feeling faded quickly as Roy slammed my clit like an elevator button like a late commuter.
Press, press, press, press, sir, climb the ladder!Anyway, this elevator only stops once, and it has been in desperate need of maintenance for a long time!
I'm miserable, I'm wearing a shower cap over my hair that's been rubbed with lotion to kill the nits, and if that's not frustrating enough, I'm wearing the straight cotton you get on the plane that makes you take off your shoes and sleep in it socks, and baggy flannel pajamas.
It is said that women wearing flannel pajamas have the same effect as soldiers planting mines at the entrance of an underground air-raid shelter, and the effect of suicide is the same!
When did this sexual burnout start?When did sex become an obligation?
I remember loving the way we cuddled in bed and caressed each other.Once upon a time, the age of self-indulgence, where the furniture was shattered, the headboard was pulled out of the wall, the mattress was crushed, and the waist was hit by a chiropractic. And nostalgia?
Roy had settled into a regular rhythm and was purring habitually.Are all married people so exhausted dancing this sex samba?When did things start to go bad?
It starts with the wife becoming a mother!At least, my sex life has been severely affected by having a baby.This has a lot to do with the five centimeters that the obstetrician routinely cuts open the vagina.
Someone may take the time to go to class, learn how to breathe, or put the baby in the water, with the help of melodious harp music, but at the end of the day, giving birth is still a doctor kneeling on your chest and spreading your thighs, The drudgery of inserting barbecue-like metal utensils into the body.
And as if this kind of trauma wasn't enough, the milk stain on the shirt on his chest hasn't dried yet, your husband already wants to do those boring things, and of course a woman with a wound that has just been stitched up doesn't want it, so it goes without saying?
I remember Lowe wanting to talk to me about my declining libido too, when all I wanted to do was talk about postpartum hemorrhoids.During that time, my husband's sexuality was off my radar and I was immersed in the disturbingly wretched world of mother and baby.
Babies are a mother's favorite, and seeing your wife "once in a while" makes you wonder, who is this furry guy who hangs around "me and my sweetie" all day?
Roy is still knocking, if this is a DIY project, I am already a bookshelf with a stereo cabinet and a sliding door for the TV!Did Roy guess what I wasn't enjoying when he watched me start pushing the fake nails with the nail file Hannah had given me?
Hearing that his momentum was gradually strengthening, I breathed a sigh of relief from the bottom of my heart.
Roy's process was actually exactly the same—a series of moans that crescendoed into small, intermittent moans that rose to a loud, deflated sound, with a final wave of increasing amplitude, followed by a few minutes later. Thunderous snoring.
Lying on my side, my eyes drifted to the hallway nightlight seeping in from under the bedroom door, and I thought: Maybe I should try harder, get a tulle pajamas, ask the doctor to prescribe female Viagra for me, or even take the initiative?After all, mountains don't turn around.
At this time, Roy lay down, the blanket was completely swept away by him, and the cold arctic air covered my whole body.
I solemnly admit that Jess really hit the nail on the head!
I thought she would be very proud if she knew it, and I was not reconciled, but before I gradually fell asleep, I decided not to tell her that when women are fighting for "sexual freedom", what they are fighting for should be the freedom not to have sex with their husbands!
Notes:
Notes: