I don’t mind the odd bit of football. I’m quite happy to watch the World Cup final, its tradition isn’t it? My Granddad watched it when he was alive and my Dad watched it when I was a kid. I quite enjoy singing along with ‘Abide With Me’ and the national anthem and the match itself is usually somewhat entertaining. I do like lithe, pumping thighs and footballers generally have lovely legs and arses to ogle.
But I’m completely and utterly fed up of football now. At first I was happy for Mr Divine to watch the world cup matches of an evening. It meant I could curl up with a good book but after a while I got fed up of hearing the same old boring commentary. I should have made a drinking game out of it. I’d have been as drunk as a skunk if I took a shot for every time someone said ‘At the end of the day’ or ‘early doors’. Mr Divine seems immune to this annoyance though as he continues to watch every single match he can, even the stupidly obscure ones.
“Can’t we watch something different tonight?” I whined when I finally snapped. “The football is getting really boring.”
He shook his head. “It’s going to be a cracker tonight, Cameroon versus Brazil. I really want to watch it.”
I harrumphed and sulked but ultimately I gave in. Let Mr Divine play with his balls downstairs, I was going to enjoy some time to myself with no balls at all. I took a big glass of cold white wine and a big bar of chocolate upstairs with me. I dug out my very favourite erotic novel, The Pet Shop by KD Grace and settled down for an exciting read.
I heard moans and groans and exclamations from the man downstairs but it didn’t disturb me. I was lost with Stella and Tino, having my own de-stress session. I know my husband loves his football. It’s a therapy for him. He can forget work and its demands for a little while and just enjoy watching a sport he’d loved playing in his youth. It’s his equivalent of my baking. I love to bake and Mr Divine can always tell when I’m stressed because we get more desserts.
There’s lots of ways to chill out and feel better and I find a good session of self-pampering and masturbation is one of the best. After my wine and chocolate I take a break from my hot book for a warm shower, when I’ve dried myself off I pick out my favourite body lotion. It smells of raspberries and makes my skin feel really smooth.
I spend a long time rubbing it in to my skin, revelling in my own touch. By the time I’m thoroughly covered in lotion I’m also really horny. I’m skilfully using my fingers to manipulate an earth-shattering orgasm from me when I hear Mr Divine yelling in joyful abandon. Someone must have scored. My orgasm struck and shook me to the bone. I’d definitely scored all by myself.