down. She does this a little too quickly and tweaks her already complaining spine.
‘Oww!’ she cries with a sharp intake of breath.
‘Damn it!’ I shout in pain, one hand going to my own back.
There we both lie, writhing in respective agony, one on the bed, one on the floor. It’s like the worst advert for Nurofen you’ve ever seen in your life. Looking down from above, we could be partners in a very strange synchronised dance competition for sado-masochists.
‘Are you okay honey?’ Laura asks.
‘I think I’ve done my back in.’
‘Let me have a look,’ she says with concern, and begins to roll towards the edge of the bed.
Looking up, the first thing I see appearing from the bed covers above my head is the looming bulge of our unborn child. It’s like watching a pink sun come up, only sideways. Laura’s face comes into view shortly afterwards, a strained expression writ large across it.
‘Can you move?’ she enquires, voice somewhat muffled by the duvet.
‘I don’t know,’ I respond, still wincing as I rub the small of my back.
‘Let me try and help you,’ she suggests and moves even closer to the edge of the bed.
I realise this already disastrous evening could get a lot worse in very short order if Laura loses her balance right now.
Concern for my own well being is paramount, but even that is trumped by my concern for the baby if Laura falls off the bed, drops the intervening two feet between us, and pins me like Big Daddy.
My arms go out.
One grasps Laura’s belly to steady it, the other flies in the direction of her head - the only other part of her anatomy I can see.
I’m sure she appreciates me stopping her tipping over, but her gratitude is lost in the screech of distress that arises due to the thumb I’ve just stuck in her eye.
‘Christ Jamie!’
‘Sorry! I was trying to stop you falling!’ I jump to my feet in concern for her welfare.
If this didn’t already look like a Three Stooges routine minus Curly, it certainly resembles one when I stub my toe on the side of the bed in a hasty effort to provide first aid to my partially blinded wife.
I sit down with a sharp hiss of agony, one hand still on my back, the other now grabbing my throbbing toe.
Likewise, Laura has a hand on her back, while the other is now covering her left eye.
Episodes of Casualty have gone by with less injury than this aborted sex session in the Newman household.
Inexplicably, my penis still thinks it’s party time and is standing proud awaiting further instructions. I look at Laura for a moment thrashing around next to me and decide she’s probably not in the mood anymore.
Still, I’m probably going to be laid up with a bad back for the next few days, so I’ll have plenty of time to wank myself into a stupour, won’t I?
‘I’m sorry honey,’ I lean over and say. Laura removes her hand from her eye tentatively, as if she’s not completely sure I’m not going to smack her around the head with the table lamp.
‘Why did you poke me in the bloody eye?’
‘Why did you throw me off the bed?’
‘I didn’t. The baby kicked. You know how I react sometimes when she does it.’ She looks at my toe. ‘What did you do?’
‘Stubbed it on the bed.’
Laura actually gives me a look of sympathy, which once again reinforces my opinion that she really must love me. How else could someone brush off being assaulted with a thumb while naked and pregnant?
Laura looks down at little Jamie, who still doesn’t know when he’s done for the night. ‘You’re still hard after all that? Blimey.’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘What can I say? You do it for me even with mild spinal injuries.’
With one eye still twitching and weeping copiously, Laura pats the bed next to her. ‘Lie down sexy. Let’s see if I can still do something about that.’
Her twitching, watery eye is a bit disconcerting. I feel like I’m being seduced by a stroke victim.
I’ve become very adept at brushing off these
‘Oww!’ she cries with a sharp intake of breath.
‘Damn it!’ I shout in pain, one hand going to my own back.
There we both lie, writhing in respective agony, one on the bed, one on the floor. It’s like the worst advert for Nurofen you’ve ever seen in your life. Looking down from above, we could be partners in a very strange synchronised dance competition for sado-masochists.
‘Are you okay honey?’ Laura asks.
‘I think I’ve done my back in.’
‘Let me have a look,’ she says with concern, and begins to roll towards the edge of the bed.
Looking up, the first thing I see appearing from the bed covers above my head is the looming bulge of our unborn child. It’s like watching a pink sun come up, only sideways. Laura’s face comes into view shortly afterwards, a strained expression writ large across it.
‘Can you move?’ she enquires, voice somewhat muffled by the duvet.
‘I don’t know,’ I respond, still wincing as I rub the small of my back.
‘Let me try and help you,’ she suggests and moves even closer to the edge of the bed.
I realise this already disastrous evening could get a lot worse in very short order if Laura loses her balance right now.
Concern for my own well being is paramount, but even that is trumped by my concern for the baby if Laura falls off the bed, drops the intervening two feet between us, and pins me like Big Daddy.
My arms go out.
One grasps Laura’s belly to steady it, the other flies in the direction of her head - the only other part of her anatomy I can see.
I’m sure she appreciates me stopping her tipping over, but her gratitude is lost in the screech of distress that arises due to the thumb I’ve just stuck in her eye.
‘Christ Jamie!’
‘Sorry! I was trying to stop you falling!’ I jump to my feet in concern for her welfare.
If this didn’t already look like a Three Stooges routine minus Curly, it certainly resembles one when I stub my toe on the side of the bed in a hasty effort to provide first aid to my partially blinded wife.
I sit down with a sharp hiss of agony, one hand still on my back, the other now grabbing my throbbing toe.
Likewise, Laura has a hand on her back, while the other is now covering her left eye.
Episodes of Casualty have gone by with less injury than this aborted sex session in the Newman household.
Inexplicably, my penis still thinks it’s party time and is standing proud awaiting further instructions. I look at Laura for a moment thrashing around next to me and decide she’s probably not in the mood anymore.
Still, I’m probably going to be laid up with a bad back for the next few days, so I’ll have plenty of time to wank myself into a stupour, won’t I?
‘I’m sorry honey,’ I lean over and say. Laura removes her hand from her eye tentatively, as if she’s not completely sure I’m not going to smack her around the head with the table lamp.
‘Why did you poke me in the bloody eye?’
‘Why did you throw me off the bed?’
‘I didn’t. The baby kicked. You know how I react sometimes when she does it.’ She looks at my toe. ‘What did you do?’
‘Stubbed it on the bed.’
Laura actually gives me a look of sympathy, which once again reinforces my opinion that she really must love me. How else could someone brush off being assaulted with a thumb while naked and pregnant?
Laura looks down at little Jamie, who still doesn’t know when he’s done for the night. ‘You’re still hard after all that? Blimey.’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘What can I say? You do it for me even with mild spinal injuries.’
With one eye still twitching and weeping copiously, Laura pats the bed next to her. ‘Lie down sexy. Let’s see if I can still do something about that.’
Her twitching, watery eye is a bit disconcerting. I feel like I’m being seduced by a stroke victim.
I’ve become very adept at brushing off these
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