"It's the first fertile day of my cycle," Wife shouted. "Get upstairs and pants off NOW!"
"I'm here! I'm here," Husband gasped out of breath after running up the stairs. Husband was met by Wife, who was lying in bed with her sweatshirt on, bottoms off and texting with friends.
"Could you at least put the Blackberry away this time? Your texting while sexing is killing my erection," Husband requested.
"Hardy har har," Wife said ignoring Husband.
"Seriously, put it away," Husband ordered.
Wife slid her electronic boyfriend under the pillow by her head, as Husband assumed the necessary missionary position. No sooner than Husband's attention was diverted, Wife surreptitiously pulled out the device from her secret hiding place and proceeded to engage in some online shopping while providing Husband with some fake panting for good measure. Twenty minutes and two new pairs of shoes later, Husband finished, rolled over to his side of the bed and set his alarm clock for the next morning.
"Babe, can I ask a favour?" Wife asked.
"Anything," Husband replied.
"For tomorrow morning's session, do you think you could maybe masturbate to just before the point of ejaculation, use a little lube and then drop your swimmers off in my pool?" Wife queried.
"You've got to be kidding me!" Husband cried to no reaction from Wife. "You're essentially asking me to be a turkey basting sperm donor."
"What is your point? We both want a baby, but I'm a little tired of having to have sex to make one," Wife revealed. "That is unless you can promise to take twenty seconds to come once we start."
"Don't I always take twenty seconds?" Husband stated rhetorically. Wife turned over to read her daily horoscope online before going to sleep.
Another long day of work had met its end. Wife dreaded returning home for it meant that she had to engage in coitus. Wife tried to play the odds in her mind, questioning whether if she and Husband did not have sex that night, would their chances of achieving the revered state of parenthood be dashed this month. All Wife truly desired was a long hot shower, a ten ounce glass of Shiraz and a few chocolate chip cookies.
"Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?" Husband asked Wife, as she walked in the door.
"Sure, as long as you have something left in you to contribute to this baby-making venture after this morning's sex-capade," Wife advised.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Husband inquired.
"Don't bother having sex with me if you're going to shoot blanks," Wife stated snidely.
"I do NOT shoot blanks!" Husband cried. " I shoot Uzi bullet sperm."
"Well, judging from the fact that I'm not pregnant yet and this is our fourth time trying, I'm sticking with the blanks theory," Wife offered.
"I know exactly what ejects from my little buddy, so trust me when I say that you're lucky you're not riddled with bullet holes from the power of my zygote-producing soldiers!" Husband stated defiantly. "In all seriousness, since it's already seven o'clock, I propose that we eat dinner quickly and then we rendez-vous in the boudoir for some sexy time."
"Why so early?" Wife asked. "We never do it before we eat."
"Can't a guy want to shake things up?" Husband answered unconvincingly.
"Not buying it. What's with the rush to get it over with?" Wife queried not letting on that she too would rather put the act behind her rather than watch the minutes creep by as she waited for Husband to come upstairs for a little loving before the eleven o'clock news.
"Well, there's a hockey game on tonight that I want to watch and by the time it'll be over, you will have gone to sleep," Husband replied. "I'm just trying to squeeze you in."
"With an offer like that how can I not go dry like the Sahara?" Wife queried rhetorically.
No baby was conceived that evening.
The time for the mandatory post-coital cuddling had expired and Wife, who was somewhat perturbed, turned over hastily to confront Husband.
"Where was my orgasm?" Wife demanded.
"Why are you complaining? Did you or did you not give me strict orders to be quick," Husband advised.
"Right, like every five years," Husband offered sympathetically.
"More like one hundred and seventy-five years. So..." Wife stated.
"So what?" Husband asked.
"So, aren't you going to give me some pleasure back? A little quid pro quo?" Wife asked. "Last time I checked, my belly button was not an erogenous zone."
"I wish it was," Husband joked.
"That's because you are too lazy to find my clitoris after twelve years of being together," Wife remarked without amusement.
"I'm just kidding! Why don't I try my 'come hither' move on you," Husband offered.
"Excuse me? Your what?" Wife laughed. "Where did you, Mr. Vanilla, learn that?"
"Community television - channel ten," Husband advised deadpan.
"I think I'll pass on experiencing the moves you learned from sex education on the community cable access channel," Wife retorted angrily as she exited the marital bed.
"Babe, I noticed you called 'it' a hog tonight when we were making love," Husband called after Wife cheerily who retreated to their master ensuite to chart her basal temperature.
"By 'it' my juvenile husband, do you mean your 'penis'?" Wife called out rhetorically.
"Yeah!" Husband giggled. "It was a huge turn on."
"I sort of thought that you were joking when you asked me to call it that. I was trying to be funny," Wife laughed.
"Sexy time, is no time for making with the funny," Husband advised.
"Ok. But, why 'hog'? You don't even eat pork products, yet you call your genitals one?" Wife queried.
"Just go with it," Husband dictated.
"I had no idea that you had such an affinity for pigs. Here's hoping that our future progeny won't suffer from the same affliction," Wife retorted.
Disappointed to see that her basal temperature had fallen, signaling an impending monthly visit from Aunt Flow, Wife was unsure if her disappointment had more to do with the fact that they had failed again to conceive or whether it was related to the reality that she would have to engage in more banal sexual relations with Husband next month. At least she had a fifteen or so day hiatus from having to take that bullet. Always the effervescent believer in seeing the glass as being half full, Wife buoyed herself by thinking that perhaps the fifth month would be a charm for them and they would get pregnant, meaning that she could avoid sex with Husband for at least forty weeks under the pretense that sex is verboten while gestating. Wife retreated between the sheets for some shuteye, sleeping soundly that night for the first time in four months in spite of Husband's snoring.