I know Billy’s pregnancy was a lot harder on her than Veronica’s.  She'd been sick a lot, and Veronica was in the middle of the Rotten-Horrific-Appalling-Terrifying-Twos.  No, I’m not joking.  Fuck the Terrible Twos.  I half expected our sweet little daughter to cut off our heads while we slept at night and feed our bodies to rabid dogs while overdosing on ring pops and Lucky Charms.  One minute she was hugging us and telling us she loved us and the next she was running around in circles screaming about sugar and throwing toys at our heads.  Jenny was freaked out by Veronica’s behavior and sick all the time from the pregnancy so sex had gone on the back burner.  Like, the back burner twenty miles down the road at someone else’s house back burner.

But tonight, I am going to fix it all.  I am bringing sexy back, bitches!

I can’t take one more night of playing pull and tug with SpongeBob.  Aside from the fact that I’ve watched every single YouPorn video ever made—twice—I’ve also read every story on Erotica dot com, and when I started reading the stories just to see how they ended instead of for the sex scenes, I knew I was in deep shit.

I've spent the last few weeks trying to come up with the perfect plan.  Carter had suggested I sit down and talk to Jenny about what’s bothering me but that just seems like something a chick would do.  I don’t need to cry and talk about my feelings.  I just need to have sex with my wife.

I’m too nervous to do anything but sit on the couch and stare at the door. At nine o’clock, Jenny’s car pulls in and she's unlocking the front door.

“Where are the kids?” she asks as she closes the door behind her and glances around the living room.

“I put them to bed already,” I tell her proudly.

Jenny is always nervous about leaving me home alone with the kids at bedtime.  I seriously think she expects to come home to our daughter’s hair dyed green from lime Kool-Aid and our son sucking on a black Sharpie after painting his face with it.  That's only happened once but you’d think I burned the house down or sold them on the black market.  And really, the fact that a three month old can draw a perfect Hitler 'stache on his upper lip and a Harry Potter lightning bolt on his forehead without a mirror is just fucking awesome.

I don’t miss the smile falter from her face when she realizes the kids are already asleep and she won’t get to do it herself.  She rarely, if ever, misses a chance to bathe the kids and read a bedtime story to them.

I remember a time when she never missed a blow job.  Ahhhhh, memories.

“Did you have a good time with the girls?”

She shrugs as she puts her purse and coat on the table in the foyer.

“It was okay.  I wasn’t up for drinking so Claire and Liz probably thought I was a board.”

“You mean, they thought you were a bore?” I ask.

“I’m too tired to care,” she says, flopping down onto the couch next to me and resting her head on the back cushions.

Shit!  Claire and Liz had one job and one job only - get my wife drunk.  I needed her drunk for this to work!  They are so fired the next time I see them.  Oh well, looks like we’re doing this sober.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.  Go on upstairs to our room and get comfortable,” I tell her with a wink.

She looks at me funny for a minute and then pulls herself slowly off of the couch and makes her way up the stairs.

I sit on the couch practically bouncing up and down with excitement.  I am like a kid on Christmas.  I absolutely cannot wait for her to get upstairs and see what I did.  Even sober I know she will appreciate this awesome gift.  This is going to fix everything. I can feel it.  With one awesome purchase from Liz’s sex toy shop, I am going to cure the dry spell in our marriage.  I am so fucking awesome I can’t even stand it.  She’s going to take one look into the bedroom and announce that I should be nominated for Husband of the Year.  I’ll graciously accept the nomination and act like I have no idea just how amazeballs I am.

I’ll probably need a speech and a tux, because you know, I’m kind of a big deal.  “I’d like to thank the little people.  And by little people, I mean the people out there still not having sex, who aren’t the shiznit like I am.”

I hear Billy let out a cry from his nursery, and I’m not gonna lie, I almost run up the stairs to ask him what the fuck he thinks he's doing.  I've given him strict orders that he's not to make a sound after he went to sleep.  It's like this kid didn’t understand a word I said.

Billy’s cries stop after a few seconds, and I say a silent prayer of thanks and give myself a reminder to buy him a new toy tomorrow to apologize for almost going into his room and calling him a cock blocking asshole.

I’m a little concerned that I haven’t heard Jenny let out a happy scream yet, but I figure she just doesn’t want to scare the kids or anything.  Perfectly understandable.  She’s containing her excitement and waiting for me to come upstairs so she can thank me properly with her mouth on my schwantz.  I approve of this message.

After I give Jenny a few more minutes to enjoy the surprise and get situated, I jump up from the couch, and take the stairs two at a time in haste to get to our room.

I run down the hallway with a grin on my face and push open the door to our bedroom with a raging hard-on just thinking about the night to come.  I stop dead in my tracks at what I see and am unable to form any words that can describe the horror show happening right this very second.

“Drew, this is the best present ever!  I love it!” Jenny whispers.  “And the candles?!  Oh my gosh, it’s the perfect lighting to do this!”

I stand in the doorway of our room staring at the sight before me, and I want to fall down on my knees and weep.  Not in the “Oh my God I’m so happy!” way either.  In the “Oh my fuck, what is going on???” way.

After three hours of hard labor while Jenny was out, I had managed to install a sex swing in the corner of our bedroom.  A sex swing to end all sex swings.  This thing is the shit, and I almost had to crank one out in the middle of installing it.  I couldn’t stop picturing Jenny hanging in it, naked and waiting for me to rail her.  I had to go to the hardware store three different times for materials and ended up removing part of the ceiling to reinforce the beams up there.  I had to attach two-by-fours and consult five different guys who worked at the hardware store, all who were anxiously awaiting my return so I could give them a play-by-play of the evening.

Now, instead of waltzing back in there like a God to tell them about the hot sex we had suspended from our ceiling, I’m going to have to walk in there with my head down in shame.  I’m not going to have an awesome story to tell about the cops being called because of strange jungle noises coming from our room or windows being broken because of swinging too hard.  The only story I’m going to have is the one about me falling to my knees and sobbing like a girl.

When I close my eyes to sleep at night, I’m going to have to picture Jenny, fully clothed, holding our three-month-old son in her arms, rocking him back to sleep in our SEX SWING.

“But…that’s my swing,” I whine loudly and try not to stomp my foot.

“Shhhhhhh, I just got him back to sleep,” Jenny whispers while giving me a stern look as she gently sways from side to side and stares lovingly down at Billy – IN MY MOTHER FUCKING SEX SWING!

“Sex…me…the swing…bad….sex…barf.”

Nonsense. That’s what is coming out of my mouth.  Pure nonsense.

The gift that's supposed to rejuvenate our sex life has now become a new baby rocker.

Barf.

“Come over here and sit with me on the swing, Drew.  There’s plenty of room,” Jenny says softly as she stares down at Billy.

Sit next to my wife on a sex swing and NOT have sex?  I do not understand what is happening right now.  Is she speaking English?