Probably I shouldn’t have been talking about my wife’s periods, but if one looked at Libby Larson online vlogs and blogs, there were several giving tips to women and girls advice about how to get motivated to exercise and beat sweet cravings when menstruating. Libby talked about and described her periods in some detail in these, so I guess me talking about this to two gay men and two teenage girls didn’t seem so bad. After all they, could just click on her website and watch them for themselves. The only thing my wife seemed to omit from these videos was one of her favorite strategies for dealing with her hormone imbalances when pre-menstrual — shouting at her husband.
I thought back on the morning’s events and laughed. “Plus, I’m already in the dog house with my wife today. I managed to trip over a clothes hamper in the laundry when Libby was in the toilet, and scared her half to death. She wasn’t very happy.”
Will laughed. “Brad and I can empathize with that. One day last month we were moving a small cabinet upstairs, and it fell over with a massive crash. The cat freaks and runs off in one direction growling and hissing, but worse still we dropped it right outside the upstairs loo, and behind the door there’s Little Miss Montana sitting on the toilet having a poo-poo. She wasn’t too impressed with us when she came out, believe me.”
“Can you blame me?” Montana laughed. “I nearly jumped right off the toilet seat and hit my head on the door. Try explaining that one down at casualty if I’d gotten concussion.”
“You should try growing up sharing a bathroom with three brothers,” said Bailey. “They just seem to exist to annoy me whenever I go to the toilet. The seat left up, no toilet paper left for me to use, answering my phone and telling whoever called that I’m on the toilet, knocking on the toilet door either as a prank or ahead of asking me some inane question that couldn’t wait five minutes. Ugh!”
“I understand Bailey,” said Montana. She good-naturedly gestured to her fathers. “I think my two Dads decided to have a daughter so they would have somebody to change the toilet paper, because I’m the only one in our house who does it. Plus 18 years and they still haven’t figured out that when there’s a girl living in the house that putting down the toilet seat is a good idea. Like the other night I woke up in the other night and needed to go to the toilet, and I nearly sat down on it before I realized the seat had been left up.”
Brad and Will feigned dismay. “What us?” Brad gasped. “Never!”
“However could one accuse one’s own fathers of such terrible crimes?” Will asked, clutching his heart.
We all laughed, before wishing each other a good day and going on our way. I looked into my trolley at Libby’s panty pads and was thinking about how the three packets of pads were going to have different fates. The ones I had selected would next week be adhered to Libby’s knickers for her blonde pussy to bleed into, the napkins Montana had selected would be adhered to Montana’s panties for her brunette pussy for her to bleed into and Bailey’s pads would be adhered to her knickers to catch the blood flowing from her redhead pussy.
Not only did I think about Montana and Bailey’s panties, panty pads and pussies, but I kept getting mental images of young Montana sitting on the toilet with her knickers around her ankles and nearly jumping off the loo when her fathers dropped the cabinet outside the lavatory door. I also kept thinking about her pretty redhead BFF Bailey sitting on the toilet at her own house, her panties pulled down as her brothers knocked on the door to ask her dumb questions.
The kinky mental images of two attractive teenage girls on the loo weren’t exactly unpleasant, and I was in the fresh fruit and vegetable section when I realized that I was developing an erection. And I was wearing jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, no jumper or jacket to cover my embarrassment. Shit! Hastily, I stood behind the melons my groin pressed up against the display, just as the grumpy grandmother from earlier came around the corner.
She scowled as she looked at my odd body posture and somewhat guilty expression on my blushing face. “Hi!” I blurted out, giving her a wave.
The old woman scowled at me and went on her way without a word, grumbling and mumbling as she did so. I think her opinion of me as being some sort of weirdo and pervert did not change!
*
Had the grouchy woman from the supermarket known how I was planning to spend my Saturday evening, she would probably have been justified in her assessment of me. I watched as Brad and Will left with their daughter and Bailey in tow, going to the improvisation comedy night where Brad and Will performed. While I had been to the comedy show and liked it not least because Montana was usually there, I wasn’t going there to spend time with my crush young enough to be my daughter.
So what were my plans for Saturday night? Stalking my wife of course. I had become pretty good at stalking Libby in recent times, and knew very well that what she said she was doing on Saturday night — a quiet girls’ night with two of her cousins – was not what she was doing in reality.
It was hardly a girls’ night, as only one person attending — Libby herself — had a vagina. The other attendee — Todd — did not have a vagina, unless he had had a full sex change as day surgery today.
Setting up my alibi for tonight had started earlier in the week. I had said I was going to see a movie on Saturday night. Of course I was not going to see the movie, what I was going to observe would only feature in a movie that could never be shown in a mainstream cinema. However, I had to know what the movie was about in case Libby asked me about it so on Tuesday I had secretly driven some distance to Oakleigh and watched the 9.45 morning session with some pensioners and some very strange man who slept through most of the film.