Once a week, Daily Intel takes a peek at what your friends and neighbors are doing behind doors left slightly ajar. Today, the Happily Engaged Player: 38, male, Bed-Stuy, straight, engaged.
12:24 a.m.: After a very long day of unpacking from our recent move from Philly, I take a shower and lie in bed exhausted. Future Wifey rolls over and grabs me, and I immediately come to attention. After some groping, she commences one of her award-winning and noteworthy blow jobs.
1:30 a.m.: After some attention on my part to her tits and her toes, I give her all thirteen long reasons why she can’t handle “The Truth,” our nickname for my penis.
6:30 a.m.: We awaken to our morning ritual of kissing and hugging and discussing our dreams from the night before.
9:20 a.m.: As I am on my Mac working — I was a school administrator before we moved — she walks up in nothing but a robe that is wide open to bring me a cup of tea. I thank her and kiss her.
2:30 p.m.: We walk to the food co-op holding hands.
2:42 p.m.: At the food co-op and I notice a very becoming Asian woman with the biggest tits I have ever seen on an Asian woman. I start to think about one of my former Asian students who is now a doctor and how much I want to do her.
6:39 p.m.: After eating supper, she lays on the couch and puts her feet in my lap while we begin to watch the film Ben X. I massage her feet.
11:37 p.m.: We awaken to The Late Show With David Letterman after falling asleep during the movie. We go to the comfort of the Tempur-Pedic mattress and get into our Olympic-ready synchronized cuddling routine.
6:30 a.m.: Morning ritual of kissing and hugging and discussing our dreams.
6:53 a.m.: While we are getting dressed to go to the track, I notice that she is putting on a sports bra and I joke that I thought sports bras were only made for the itty-bitty tittie club. She says that if she didn’t wear one, she might hit herself in the face with one while running.
8:15 a.m.: At the track, we both almost simultaneously notice a new runner shaped like an hourglass and wearing a tight-fitting bodysuit. I ask her would she do her. Wifey says, “Without a doubt. Would you?” I affirm and we do a pinkie swear before going to greet her.
9:21 a.m.: Upon returning home (without the new runner), we get in the shower together.
3:32 p.m.: I receive a call from my Atlanta ex, who put herself through college by working as a stripper. When I see the number on the caller ID, “The Truth” hardens. We talk about her girlfriend, who just learned her husband is cheating.
6:18 p.m.: Wifey calls to inform that she will stay in Manhattan for the evening to watch a movie with a couple of girlfriends.
6:40 p.m.: I notice a FINE ASS Russian-looking woman on the C train who looked like a 6-foot-tall body builder. Damn, she was BAD!!! It is so nice to see a muscular woman who has nice-sized breasts and still looks very feminine!!!
11:25 p.m.: After getting out of the shower, I call an old ex. When she answers the phone, she says “Why don’t you call me anymore?” I say, “You know what’s up.” We commence with phone sex.
8:12 a.m.: Wifey and I awaken and hug and kiss. I notice her nipples are rock hard. I go down on her for the next 30 minutes.
10:58 a.m.: As we are laying in bed butt-naked and sweaty, Wifey asks me if I have ever had anal sex. I respond to her that I am not gay. She says, “I know that. But have you ever had it with one of your many women?” I tell her no. This starts a very interesting conversation on just what anal sex might feel like since the anus is next to the prostate which is the male’s G-spot. We also discuss what anal sex really means for society.
2:30 p.m.: At barbershop. I bring up the conversation about anal sex. One of the guys in the barbershop says that ever since he discovered anal sex, he and his lady are no longer turned on as much by vaginal sex. He proclaims that, “Ass is the other pink meat! Don’t sleep on it!” Everyone else shows their disgust with him.
3:12 p.m.: Our conversation is abruptly halted when a Tyra Banks–looking sistah walks in with her young son.
5:35 p.m.: While I am in the closet looking for something, I notice the bras that I bought for Wifey from Victoria’s Secret in the bag on the top shelf. I grab them and take them into the kitchen where she is cooking and ask her why she is not wearing them. She says they make her tits look too obvious. “And?!”
6:12 p.m.: I open my e-mail in-box and notice a message from an ex. “The Truth” hardens. She is inviting me to a swingers party in Baltimore the weekend after next. I reply to her with a reminder that I am now on the verge of getting married. She replies that I can bring Wifey with me, just as long as Wifey does not mind watching me and her fuck. I tell her that I will try to figure out a way to ask Wifey.
7:34 p.m.: Wifey reveals her boy shorts. I take them off while she unfastens my belt buckle and zipper. She mounts me there on the couch. I ask her not to block the TV because Jeopardy was on. She giggles and grabs the remote and turns the TV off.
10:20 p.m.: As she is sitting in the bed reading, I walk in and challenge her to a game. The goal is to maintain total concentration and continue reading aloud in perfect English while receiving oral ministrations. She agrees.
8:30 a.m.: Morning ritual.
Noon: We walk to Red Bamboo hugging each other.
9 p.m.: We watch Wifey’s most favorite TV show, America’s Next Top Model. While watching it, I tell her that I am disappointed in Tyra allowing Isis to be on the show. She replies, “Why are you hating on Isis?” I replied, “I am not hating on Isis. Isis is no RuPaul. And, RuPaul would have beat everyone else hands down. I would do RuPaul. I wouldn’t do Isis because Isis looks like a fucking man.”
10:33 p.m.: We go to bed and get into our Olympic-ready synchronized cuddling routine. (When is the Olympic Committee going to recognize this sport and allow us to compete???)
6:30 a.m.: Morning ritual.
8:23 a.m.: While I eat my bowl of oatmeal, I watch Ann Curry on mute and visualize fucking the shit out of her and Lucy Liu at the same time.
9 a.m.: Before I leave the house, Wifey gives me a very wet and luscious French kiss with an ass-palming hug.
8:26 p.m.: After supper, I roll a blunt while she runs some bath water. We take a bubble bath together while puff-puff-passing.
9 p.m.: While drying her off, I begin to have sex with Wifey from behind while she holds on to the sink.
9:45 p.m.: We go to the bed. She begins another blow job. However, this time while she is doing it, she inserts two fingers into my asshole. I am too high and drunk to resist. But, it actually feels good, causing me to skeet-skeet with enough force to travel across the room.
6:30 a.m.: Morning ritual. She asks me how I liked being butt-fucked by her. I hesitate. She says, “Don’t worry about it. You don’t have to say a word. I saw how much you liked it.”
7:26 a.m.: Wifey is complaining that her vagina is sore and itchy. She yells from the bedroom that she has a yeast infection and asks me to go to the corner bodega to get some Monistat.
8:02 a.m.: I return and watch her apply it and tell her that just looking is making me itchy.
10:37 p.m.: Cuddling routine.
6:30 a.m.: Morning ritual.
7:34 p.m.: We meet at new restaurant where our waitress is a Senegalese beauty queen. Wifey asks me if I want to fuck her. I contemplate my ability to answer the question truthfully.
10:45 p.m.: As we get into bed, I mention that my balls hurt and itch. She replies that I need to stop fucking around on her without a condom because I might bring something home. I tell her that I do not screw around. Wifey says, “Do you think that I gave you a yeast infection?” I replied, “What are you talking about? Men don’t get yeast infections.” She replies, “They do too.” Then, she gets up and Googles. We find out that my symptoms match those of a male yeast infection exactly, and that a large number of men contract yeast infections from women and never get it treated and can infect anyone they have sex with. We agree to a celibate night.
TOTALS: Two acts of intercourse; two acts of fellatio, one with anal stimulation; two acts of cunnilingus; one act of phone sex with ex; one Ann Curry sex fantasy; one shared partner yeast infection.