The Sleep-Over

I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me. But my parents taught me to finish what I started. Most of those in my generation are afraid of commitment. Like, what’s up with that? Divorce rate is way up. Parents are killing each other, and the kids are trying to kill them. What is going on?

It’s like the guy I am dating. He is thirty-five (I am a year younger) and still lives at home with his parents. I mean, come on!

I read recently where this Italian guy sued his parents and won the right to continue to live in their house until he established a direction for his life. He was 35!

A friend of mine, her daughter, locker her self in her room and swore she would pierce her entire body. Well, she did. And I admire her for doing it. That’s follow-through. No half-assed attempt by her. No idle threat. I appreciate someone who finishes something they start.

Last night I was out with my boyfriend. After the movie, I agreed to go over his house.

So, there we were, up in his bedroom. It was the same bedroom he grew up in! And, down the hall, his parents were sleeping in the same bedroom they grew up in!

He had boyhood pictures all around the room. He also had Sponge-Bob bed sheets.

We were making love in his single bed. And like, we were a little bit noisy! I was afraid we would wake his parents.

He started yelling and moaning. He said he was surprised at how big I was. “C’mon,” I said, “ I’m only average.”

“No, you are so big!” He insisted.

I think he was replaying one of those porn tapes he had in his desk, and got the parts reversed or something. Well, at least he was trying. I give an “A” for effort. Never mind that effort begins with an “E”.

Anyway, he started in talking during love session. Soon he was yelling. He shouted “Mommy!”

I though that was a bit weird, then I realized he really was yelling for his mommy!

”Mommy, Mommy!”

His mother came running in. And there I was, lying there naked with her son between my legs! The horror on her face. What could I say?

“He started it!!” I told her in defense.

And the next thing I knew, she was calling my mother to take me home. I was humiliated.
My mother grabbed me by the hand and yanked me out the door, “No more sleepovers for you, young lady!” She scolded.