Second Honeymoon

by Lisa McCourt Hollar

Angelina stared at the ground beneath her, wondering how she had gotten herself into this predicament. She knew of course how, just wondered what had possessed her to think she could behave like a woman much younger than her fifty some years and in much better shape.

“Don’t move Angelina,” Frank said, “if this thing shifts in the wrong direction you’re likely to wind up hitting the ground.”

“Gee, somehow I hadn’t noticed that,” she snapped back at her husband. He was the one that had gotten her into this predicament, him and his damn mid- life crisis.

“Take my hand,” Frank said, reaching out for her, as though that was going to change things. As he leaned towards her, even though he were being careful, Angelina felt herself tipping forward, her head leaning towards the ground even more precariously than it had before. She wondered if it would hurt much. What had she been thinking?

“Back off Frank,” Angelina warned. Frank leaned back again but the damage was done. Angelina felt the fabric holding her in place give, a ripping sound, and then she was falling through the air. Landing, she felt the course carpet dig into her ass, even more so when Frank landed on top of her, jabbing her in the bellybutton, thanks to the little blue pill the doctor had prescribed him. “Definitely the wrong hole,” Angelina groaned as her husband yelped in pain. Looking at the ceiling she glared at the contraption that had caused the fall, a swing Frank had talked her into buying from the adult store that had opened up a few blocks over. “I wonder if we can get our money back,” she asked.

“Didn’t you think it was fun, even just a little,” Frank asked, rolling off his wife and helping her to her feet,

Checking her ass out in the mirror, Angelina winced at the purple bruise that was already showing up in splotches and the red marks from where the carpet had scraped. “No,” she mumbled.

“Not even a teensy bit fun,” Frank asked, nibbling on her ear, then working his way down her neck.

“Damn man,” Angelina said, closing her eyes, enjoying the kiss that was slowly moving downward. “Doesn’t anything stop you?”

“Uh uh,” Frank hummed, his mouth occupied with her 43 double D’s. They were sizable, though no longer perky, but he didn’t mind. They were Angelina’s and he had loved her for over 30 years of marriage.

“You almost killed me,” Angelina said, “You aren’t exactly light.” Angelina was trying to hang on, not ready to give up the argument just yet.”

“I’m sorry,” Frank said, kissing her neck again. Angelina had a weakness towards the back, a bit behind her right ear. “The swing,” he asked,

“I suppose it wasn’t that bad,” she answered. And really it hadn’t been. It had been kind of fun at first. Frank had climbed into the swing first, helping her onto his lap. They had started rocking at first; swaying back and forth and Angelina had felt a thrill she hadn’t felt in years. Who said sex was for the young? Shortly into it, Angelina leaned back, allowing her head to tip towards the floor. Only problem was, it wasn’t just her head that tipped and she didn’t stop until she was hanging precariously from the swing, dangling just above the floor. Thank God the windows were tinted in their building or the whole neighborhood would have had an eyeful of her boobs drooping like a yo yo. Gravity was a bitch at her age.

“Soooo….do you want to try it again?”

“Are you insane,” Angelina asked, shoving Frank away from her.

“No, just horny. Please. Just one more go.”

“It’s broke,” Angelina said, feeling a little smug.

“Not too bad,” Frank said. “It won’t hold both of us, but maybe if you laid in it on your belly…” His voice trailed off, leaving the rest to his wife’s imagination.

‘Oh God,’ she thought, that could be interesting.

Angelina climbed carefully into the swing, which was tilted to the left. It groaned a bit under her weight, but held. Feeling Frank behind her, the swing began to sway.

“Oh God Frank, “Angelina moaned. He smacked her on the butt and she yelped at the sting, imagining the welts that would be there in the morning. She wasn’t complaining though. He used to smack her all the time, beat her ass until it was red and she’d loved every bit of it. Then, as they’d gotten older they had drifted apart, what with the kids, PTA meetings and work, they hardly had time for each other. But now they had the house to themselves again and time to get to know each other all over. Angelina closed her eyes, ready to enjoy the ride and felt herself sailing through the air. She didn’t realize that was because she had actually gone airborne until she landed face first into the carpet. Yep, gravity was a bitch. She just hoped she could come up with a viable reason for the rug burns on her nose.

Copyright© 2011 Lisa McCourt Hollar