After Glow

I'll tell you the same thing I've told all my girlfriends to whom I recommend scheduled sex and they wrinkle their nose and say "ohh but wouldn't that take all the fun out of it?"

Girls, I have walked into an evening of scheduled sex at many stages of arousal, desire, or lack thereof.
And I've never regretted it.
Ever.

I could tell you that making love regularly creates hormonal bonds with your husband, boosts self-esteem, and promotes an overall sense of well-being, ease, and satisfaction. But perhaps you'll understand it better if I tell you a little story.

It's 8:30pm and I have just been loved truly, madly, deeply and past the edge of reason. And now Boy Scouts are over and it's time to go pick up Dear Child. I groan, and stretch and peel myself out of bed. I'm looking for a little consolation prize so I decide to try on that cute little sundress that was too small the last time I tried it. It fits. Yeah, baby! This is just the boost I need. I glide out of the house pausing briefly to slip on some sandals.

I pull up to the door of the church and the scoutmaster who happens to be the pastor walks out with a smile and props his elbow on my drivers side mirror in a conversational pose.
"Wellll hellloooo!"
I give a quick little smile and beckon Dear Child into the SUV. Friendly Pastor will not be dissuaded.
"So how was date night?"
"Great!" I cannot suppress a smile.
"So where'd you go for dinner?"
I stammer, "Um, we, er, We had a picnic" I hope this is at least partially true. I think we ate something before we got busy. I could not tell you what we ate if my life depended on it.
"Ohhh a picnic! Great idea! Where'd you go?"
I feel the heat suffuse my face and know a blush is blooming over my cheeks. "Uhh, we had our picnic at home."
There is a brief tiny flash of recognition and Friendly Pastor draws back like he's been stung. He backpedals admirably with "Well thanks for letting Dear Child participate in our program! We sure had a fun time tonight!"
I smile a proper motherly smile and thank him right back. What I want to say but don't...
No problem, Rev. We wouldn't let him quit if he wanted to! We need the free babysitting!

Dear Son is hungry, so I drive him to Subway and I walk over to Starbucks to get a decaf sugarfree cinnamon dolce.
My walk becomes a saunter as I think of all the things I just did with Delighted Husband. To the casual observer, I am a thirtysomething housewife. A curvaceous soccer mom who shops at Lane Bryant. But I know I am a sex goddess. And Delighted Husband knows it too. I smile. Just feeling good in every joint of my body. I feel lithe and relaxed and absolutely gorgeous. Gorgeous is as gorgeous does. And gorgeous does. She certainly does.