Advanced Stress Relief and Volvos
A Prequel To The Return Of The Hippy
*** WARNING – ADULT CONTENT ***
Today I talked to my therapist about my plan of leaving my wife. She seemed to agree it was a good idea. Although ‘agree’ is always such a nebulous concept with Erica. I think if I posited it looked like a good idea to invade North Korea all by myself armed with only a pineapple and a copy of The Watchtower she would probably still smile and agree my idea had merit and should be explored to see how that made me feel.
I had started visiting her shortly after the birth of our daughter, Jessica. Erica had assured me my feelings of panic were perfectly normal, as were the ones about losing my identity and even the feelings of being used merely as a sperm donor. She wasn’t sure however whether my new found passion for home brewing was going to be conducive to a happy household. Especially as I seemed to find it necessary to spend most of each evening in my Winery, A.K.A. the garden shed, watching the tiny bubbles blip their way through the tubes and airlocks.
So, today we explored my feelings about ‘Abandoning my responsibilities’, Erica’s words, not mine. The actual words I’d used were ‘escape, run away and hide‘.
Erica asked me about my tension levels and stress coping mechanisms. I referred back to my homebrewing efforts and the sampling of the resultant products which most of the time helped the stress levels very well. I could see she wasn’t impressed and that was when we got on to the subject of masturbation.
I wasn’t overly comfortable talking with an attractive woman about this but she wouldn’t let it go. I’d told her previously our sex life had declined now to special occasions only and how I was counting the days until the next Royal wedding as that was about as special as it got in Sam’s world. Erica wouldn’t be diverted and suggested masturbating regularly to alleviate stress levels.
This was how I came to be flitting through porn sites on the internet in our spare bedroom, affectionately referred to as our Home Office. At first, I felt somewhat uncomfortable with this concept. Granted I’d noticed these sites before, what man hasn’t? One can’t search the internet for a Pinot Noir without seeing some very disturbing images, certainly not ones I’d want anywhere near my winery.
I found one site that wasn’t too scary and seemed to have the desired effect upon my neglected areas. Two women had this man tied down whilst they… well, I’m sure you don’t need me to fill in blanks here. I loosened my trousers to allow necessary access and within an embarrassingly short time, I was heading for the point of no return. That was when I heard the door swing open behind me and I sensed Sam’s presence the same way a rabbit must when a fox is approaching. I panicked and ran the mouse over to the nearest advert on the screen and clicked, hoping desperately it would be something innocuous. It was. An advertisement for the new Volvo filled the screen. At the same time, my point of no return had been reached and left behind.
Sam moved next to me and stared in disbelief as I desperately failed to hide my very obvious embarrassment. She glanced at my fumbling hands trying to pull my trousers back together. She stared in amazement at the images of the Volvo on the screen. For a moment she was speechless, that’s always a bad sign.
Then she simply said, “Tony, you’re disgusting. Really, a Volvo?”
Read more of The Return of the Hippy HERE