The Hallucinogenic and Hypnotic Qualities of My Impregnated Wife

Posted: July 3, 2012 in Pregnant Wife Stories
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I have to admit, I understand the allure.  It got me too, years ago.  She is a natural leader and hypnotist; I’ve always told her that she would make a really good mob wife, if she could just get by her insatiable appetite to not break the law.  (I wish her name was Marie, that’s a strong mafia wife name).  I was talking with some friends that I have had since forever, and I pointed out to them that I have thousands of words to write about myself and my fun adventures.  Like, when my dad tried to kill me after shoplifting and other instances where my dad tried to kill me, but nothing is as well received as essays on a rambling pregnant woman.  These are friends that should be loyal to me, but no, they have joined Team Whitney, and in doing so, turned their backs on everything I thought we were…Alas, I resign myself to the fact that I have known, but denied for years—pregnant people steal the show, and you come off as a jerk if you try to get it back from them.  The miracle of carrying life in your innards, I guess.

A natural segue here is to let you know this.  Yesterday, my blog had record readership.  I have narrowed down the reasons to be either

  1. 1.        The subject of a pregnant Whitney is indeed as alluring as I think it should be, or
  2. 2.       I used the word “panties” in the title and there were a lot of pervs initially disappointed, who were conducting internet searches for the word “panties” that happened upon a relatively clean story about a man and his pregnant wife’s crazy life.  Could you imagine the poor guy as he kept reading hoping I was going to get into some kink, only to realize I was describing a woman’s natural transition into the realm of the Granny Panty?   

So, let me continue where we left off then.

I live and die by routines.  Every second of my morning is a routine.  I wake up the same side of the bed, I meander to the bathroom, I put in eye drops, I turn on the shower, I brush my teeth while the water warms up, and I use the restroom.  I do a complete flexing routine—the one that I will do when I take the stage for my first Mr. Olympia: date TBD.  I get in the shower.  In the shower, my washing routine has been the same for years with only small breaks for Boot Camp, Officer Candidates School, and the deserts of Iraq.  If I wash a body part out of turn, I actually feel like my day started off improperly.  The point is simple, my routing is a day-to-day ritual that my wife has become accustomed to seeing unfold.  Every work day is the same as the last, and it is my own monotonous drumbeat that I love—and need for that matter.

This morning I walked out of the bathroom and began my “kiss Whitney on the cheek and tell her she is dead sexy” routine.  She rose up and said in the most serious of tones, “what are doing, and where are you going?”  Confused at her sudden accusatory tone, and more confused with the look on her face, which screamed that she could not comprehend where a grown man would be going on a week day at, say around 0700, I replied with, “To an amusement park, Whitney, and you can’t come because pregnant girls are not allowed; it’s too bad, I bet you would have enjoyed it too.”   

If it doesn’t read as hilarious to you, then you and Whitney have something else in common.  Apparently, my “amusement park” comment was not amusing.   Her next comment was equally bewildering to me.  Whitney, in desperate move to distract me from the fact that her pregnant brain had again rendered her incapacitated, said the following line, “Well, I am glad it’s Friday, at least.”   I just let it go.

I need to give her some credit, though.  The woman has lost more sleep on trips to the bathroom over the past two nights than I have seen her pee our entire marriage.  What can this woman possibly have left in her to pee?  The Whitness has been quick to inform me that she produces double the saliva when compared to an average woman.  I guess that could be at the root of all this.

I just wanted you to know my wife has an excess of saliva, because I have been holding it in for 26 weeks. 

 

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Comments
  1. wingokidd says:

    You crack me up brother! You truly have no idea what’s in store for you. Just wait till she hasn’t had a good nights sleep in almost 6 years. Hopefully you’ll still be blogging and making me laugh!

  2. One of the things I love about pregnancy is that I get to blame every stupid thing I say or do on being pregnant! Never mind that I do and say all the same stupid stuff when I’m not pregnant…

    Happy Friday! 😀

  3. […] 1. He is funny as hell, but especially when he randomly talks about his pregnant wife’s saliva. […]

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