Troubles and Treats

~

Copyright © November 2012 Tara Sivec

ISBN-13:  978-1480186125

ISBN – 10:  1480186120

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording
or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from
the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.  The characters
and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.  Any similarity to real persons,
living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

License Notice

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.  This book may not be resold
or given away to other people.  If you wish to share this book with another person,
please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.  Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer

This is a work of adult fiction.  The author does not endorse or condone any of the
behavior enclosed within.  The subject matter is not appropriate for minors.  Please
note this novel contains profanity, explicit sexual situations,
and
alcohol consumption.

To my editor Maxann Dobson – I love you like a sister and I’m so glad you are taking
this crazy journey with me.  Thank you for not stabbing me for my Back to the Future
tenses.

Thank you to Madison Seidler for
being the best beta reader ever and for “rape me”.  You are a wonderful friend and
I’m so glad I know you.

Thank you to Catherine for the salmon
J
.

Thank you to Stephanie for teaching me all the things I never wanted to know about
waxing.

Big, huge thank you to my wonderful Street Team.  Thank you for loving these books
and not being afraid to tell the homeless man and the hooker on the corner about them.

Last but not least, thank you so much to all of the blogs who have reviewed, recommended,
and supported these books.  Your Facebook posts, blog posts, Tweets and everything
else you do is amazing and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you’ve
done for me.

This one is for the fans.  You picked up a book from a no-name author and you loved
it and shared it with the world.  For that, I will be forever grateful.

1.
     
You Ruined My Pens!

2.
     
Negative, Ghost Rider

3.
     
Baste in the Glory

4.
     
Downwind Lapping Dog

5.
     
Could it be…SATAN?!

6.
     
Liquid Courage

7.
     
Fake it Till You Make it

8.
     
The Great Swami

9.
     
Great Head

10.
 
Mace, Tasers and Giant Testicles

11.
 
Womb Hugging and Penis Loving

12.
 
Baby Bullets

13.
 
Hiney Duck Hiss

14.
 
Racers, Take Your Mark

15.
 
Dr. Duke of Earl

16.
 
VAGINA!

17.
 
Jackson

18.
 
Vanilla Sex

19.
 
Brazilians and FUPAs

20.
 
Who’s on Goal, What’s on Basket?

21.
 
Spoop

22.
 
I Wanna Strawberry Laid!

23.
 
Zombie Apocalypse

24.
 
I Love Your Mom’s Clam

25.
 
Drop and Give me Fifty

26.
 
The Newlywed Game

27.
 
Irish Car Bombs

28.
 
Peeping Ghost

29.
 
Vagina Skittles

Epilogue

Candles – check.

Flowers – check.

Deodorant –
shit.  Did I remember deodorant
?

Raising my arm above my head and taking a whiff, I
find
I am all good.  Nothing left to do but wait for Jenny to get home from her night
out with the girls.  Ever since our son Billy was born three months ago, Claire and
Liz have to force Jenny to leave the house every few weeks so she can go out and have
a few drinks with them.  I love my wife to death, but getting her to leave our kids
for a few hours every once in a while is like pulling my dick.

Okay, not the best analogy since I’ve made dick-pulling into an art form.  Think of
something really hard (HA!  That’s what she said!) to pull and there you have it.

Taffy?  Is taffy hard to pull?
Dat laff
y taffy, shake dat laffy taffy…
What a good song!

Jenny had almost canceled tonight’s outing too—which I absolutely could not let happen. 
I have a surprise planned and for it to work, she needs to be far away from the house
for a few hours.

It had taken me an hour of me begging and pleading for her to agree to go and enjoy
herself, followed by thir
ty minutes of her locking hersel
f in our room, crying because she thought I was sick of her and just wanted to get
rid of her, which made me wonder for the hundredth time: where the fuck did my fun,
outrageous, sexaholic wife go?

Gone are the days of pulling over on the way home from dinner to bang in the back
seat of the car. Vanished into thin air are the nights of putting anal ease on my
junk to see if I could still feel my orgasm. I couldn’t, by the way.  Jenny also couldn’t
feel her tongue or her lips for eight hours.  Don’t try this at home, kids.

In fact, gone are the days of having sex
at all
.  I have resorted to jerking off alone in the bathroom after my wife’s asleep.  It’s
a sad, lonely existence when you have to take your cell phone into the shitter so
you don’t wake your wife when you pull up the YouPorn app and crank one out.  The
worst
part is the SpongeBob SquareP
ants shower curtain in the bathroom.  Do you know how difficult it is t
o keep an erection while SpongeB
ob is staring at you with his big, googly eyes and you keep hearing the song “Jellyfishin’,
Jellyfishin’, Jellyfishin’” in your head?

Okay, it’s not that hard (yeah it is!), but still.  It’s the principal of the thing. 
Every night for the past year I've hunch
ed
over the toilet bowl with my cell phone in my hand, furiously yanking my wank and
hoping I don’t drop my phone into the water.  Which only happened once, thank God. 
And you’ll be happy to know porn still keeps playing under the water.  It’s a bit
fuzzy and the sounds of “Ooooooh, fuck me harder!” sound more like, “Mwaaaa, mwaaa,
mwaaaaagurgle!”

When our daughter Veronica was born
three
years ago, Jenny’s already remarkable libido shot through the roof.  It was like
a dream come true.  We had sex in the morning, for brunch at lunch, at night for a
midnight snack, on the baby’s changing table, in a Walmart bathroom, in three neighbors'
pools and one neighbor’s hot tub, and one really strange night that involved the jungle
gym at the park, a free range chicken, and sparklers.

Jenny had been insatiable, and I actually wondered if my dick would fall off from
overuse. 

I'll tell ya, though, what a way to go.  “Oh man, did you hear about Drew?  His dick
fell off.  Yeah, just separated from his body and plopped to the floor.  He just got
done having monkey sex with his wife on the roof of their house though, so it’s all
good.”

I honestly don’t know what happened to make everything change.  Billy had been a planned
pregnancy so it’s not like the shock of her getting pregnant again put a bucket of
cold water on her vagina.  It's like the day the stick turned pink, her lady bits
put up a giant “Out of Business” sign.

Do not enter, closed for repairs, zombies will eat your face if you try to touch this
vagina.

I've tried everything.  I've whispered sweet nothings in her ear like, “My penis misses
your vagina,” and “I heard a rumor that your love canal misses my jizz.”  Nothing. 
I know, I can’t believe it either.

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?

“No hablo SEX!  Billy bad!  Me want!” I complain, stomping my foot for real this time.

“Drew!  What the hell is wrong with you tonight?” Jenny whispers loudly.

MY PENIS IS DYING AND MY EYES ARE BLEEDING!  That’s what’s wrong with me, woman!

“You are ruining my present,” she complains.

“You ruined my penis!” I complain back.

“I ruined your pens?  What does that even mean?  I never touched your pens.”

Oh believe me, I’m well aware of how much you HAVEN’T touched my PENS.  This whispering
thing obviously isn’t working.