Last night my husband went to bed, saying he was tired and ready to sleep. I went downstairs and took a shower, then came back up with the intention of going to sleep, too. I need to stop and backtrack a bit, here. We just moved upstairs into the loft we built. For the first few nights, I had to sleep on the side of the bed that I was not used to, and it was hard for me to fall asleep. Yesterday afternoon, I changed the linens and put my pillow on the other side of the bed, hoping the change would make it easier to sleep at night. OK, back to the last night…I was feeling my way around in the dark, trying not to wake my husband and trying not to bang my toes on anything. Let me backtrack one more time here…..earlier in the evening, as my husband and I sat and watched TV, he had a beer and I had a Margarita. Mid-way through my second Margarita, gravity got me down and I accidentally put my butt through the sliding door on the hall closet. Hubby was livid, but I talked him out of trying to fix it until the next day. Back to last night…So, I am groping around in the dark, scared to death to wake my cranky husband, a bit tipsy and………………I start to giggle. One last flashback….. After I knocked the door off its tracks and hubby had retired to brood in his chair while drinking his beer and watching sports, I was feeling a bit uptight so I grabbed my pipe, stepped into the bathroom, turned on the fan, and m-e-l-l-o-w-e-d. Ok, so I’m back to groping, stumbling, and giggling, now comes the eye poking. I reach up to pull the blanket back on my side of the bed and poke my husband’s left eye. Speaking of his left eye………..hubby had a big lump there that we assumed was from an insect bite. He’d had it for days and it was growing and a few other lumps had started to appear on other parts of his face. So, I poke him in the eye, waking him from a sound sleep and I start to giggle. I bite my tongue when I hear a sharp intake of breath come out of him, like he’s fixing to bellow at me. I’ve always been one to think on the spot, so I start to kiss and lick him from neck to torso, like the whole reason I woke him up was so I could suck his cock, NOT because I’d tried to get into the wrong side of the bed in a most buzzed and blinded fashion. He’s wide awake now and his cock is doing a merry jig as my mouth gets closer and closer to it. He says,” I haven’t showered since this morning,” which gives me pause, but I am committed now, so I keep going. A few laps in and I realize I need two things, an excuse to stop, and a breath mint. Now, I didn’t want to make hubby feel bad about his stinky cock, so I said, “Do you know where the lube is? I want to practice my handjob technique on you.” (I knew damned well where it was, right by the breath mints!) I get up, a tad unsteady in my feet, and I grope around some more, looking for the light switch. Finally, I get what I need and come back to bed and give the old man a class “A” baloney bop, until he erupts all over my hand. He then closes his eyes to sleep. So, I’m sitting there, hand fulla goo, horny as hell, and he’s sleeping. I towel him off then say, “I’m going to watch porn and try to find a cyber stud to get me off.” I grabbed my knapsack full of toys and left the room. I did what I had to do and went to bed about an hour later. This morning, hubby was smiling, he had huge swollen lumps all over his forehead, but he was happy just the same. He never mentioned the closet door before he left for work. About two hours ago, he called me to say he’d been to the doctor and had shingles. I was a bit shocked, but after I hung up the phone and resumed chatting with my VBF, I said, “Gee, the shingles spots caused a lot of swelling. I wonder how I can transfer the shingles to his dick. It would double in girth.” I’m always thinking. I’m always thinking.