He called me a few days after I’d visited his house. “Have you seen my watch?”
“Is it missing?” I replied.
“Yeah, I’m sure I had it on when you came over, but now I can’t find it.”
I giggled. “Were you thinking that you lost it inside of me?”
I’m happy to report that he got the joke.
“I think you put it on the dresser,” I said. “I didn’t steal it!” I added hastily.
“I know you didn’t steal it, goof! And it’s not on the dresser. I looked there already.”
I suggested, “Check under the bed. It probably got kicked around when we were getting naked.”
After assorted sounds of scrambling and heavy breathing, victory. “Thank you, baby! I didn’t even think about it getting kicked under the bed.”
I give great blow-jobs and I find lost stuff. Maybe I’ll make somebody a good little wife one of these days.
.
All I could think about was the Mr. Bean sequence where he loses his watch in the turkey as he is stuffing it . . .
It only matters if your a good little wife if your to-be husband is a good little husband. You extrapolate your stories very vividly.