The Swear Jar.

“Fucking assholes!” You wife exclaims while looking at her tablet as you lie together propped up in bed reading on an early Sunday morning.

“What's wrong?” You half put down the front section of the Sunday print edition of the Daily Planet. “Something serious?”

“The Gotham Giants are thinking of not drafting Victor Stone, the fucking idiots.”

“It's only football, dear.” You go back to reading Lois Lane's latest column. “Besides, language.”

You see out of the corner of your eye Selina's less then pleased glare. “Fuck you.”She responds, half playful and half serious.

“The foolish and wicked practice of profane cursing and swearing is a vice so mean and low that every person of sense and character detests and despises it.” You quote, not bothering to look up from the paper. “George Washington.”

“Hey!” You complain as Selina grabs your paper, rips it in two, crumples it in a ball and throws it across the room. “Fuck you.” She reiterates.

Undaunted you look at your wife and quote, “Profanity is the feeble attempt of a weak mind to express itself forcefully.” Before Selina can speak, and you have no doubt what would be said again, you interject, “See! You can't stop.”

Surprised into silence she finally blurts out, “What do you mean?!”

“Dear, I love you.” You look at your wife. “But you have a mouth. When you get angry you just can't control yourself and start to swear like a sailor.”

“You don't complain when its during sex. Do you want me to stop there too?” She threatens.

“That's just part of the foreplay.” You keep it clinical, not falling for her point. "Of course one shouldn't swear in common parlance, but we all have are little weaknesses we have to deal with in life. And I understand, as Hermione Gingold said, 'a woman's weapon is her tongue.'” You know you're being very bad, but it's such an enjoyable sight seeing Selina simmer with frustration, wanting to rip into you with a profane laced triad, but she cannot, less she prove your point. You're playing with fire, but it's worth it.

“How did Oliver Wendell Holmes put it.” You pour gas on the flame, "'Speak clearly, if you speak at all; carve every word before you let it fall.'”

“You're a . . .” You can see it takes all that Selina has to not finish the sentence.

“Difficult, isn't it?” You grin. “We both know you can't stop.” You bait the hook.

“You have something in mind, don't you?” She frowns.

“How about a swear jar?” You smile. “Every time you use foul language you put a black chip in the jar.”

“And the chips are for?”

“Well, there should be consequences for such bad language.” You take a moment to joyfully ponder, “Let's say two spanks, one on each cheek, for one chip.”

“Perve.” Selina shakes her head unsurprised.

“With that rigid acrylic paddle that has the holes in the blade, and a long handle, we have in the hallway closet.” You add.

“That thing stings like hell!” Your wife complains. “There's a reason I put it away.”

“Again, language.” You note, very much enjoying yourself. “See, you really need this and the more it stings the more likely you will reform your ways.”

“And how about you?” She demands.

“Okay, same rules. If I swear I will put in a white chip.” You quickly agree.

“No,” Selina sits up with a most instant look, “Every time you make one of your stupid dorky references, or quotes, you put in a white chip and owe me five minutes of dancing at a club of my choice.”

“Ohhh, I hate those stupid clubs.” You complain.

“Exactly! And no earplugs this time.”

“Fine.” You realize you have to give on this point. “But your swearing doesn't count during sex and my historical, philosophical, pop-cultural references don't count when we are playing Warcraft together, deal?”

“Deal.” You both shake.

As your handshake ends Selina slides her now free hand underneath the covers, up over your hip, and down into your briefs. Taking your cock firmly into her hand she squeezes down and begins to stroke you off. Your wife knows how to touch you like none other. The tip of her little pinky, and a bit of her fingernail, finds that nerve at the base of your dick that just breaks you every time. Almost instantly you go rock hard and groan as Selina begins to methodically yank you off. After a few minutes of her erotic labors you are close to a massive climax. As you approach the end she whispers slowly in your ear with a tender, sexy voice, timing her syllables with each pull up and push down.

“You motherfucking, cock-sucking, ass-licking, piece of shit.” Her words do not match her tone, for she is cruelly playing with you now. “What in hell made you think, you stupid cunt, that you could lecture me, being the dick-less, whinny little pussy-bitch that you are. Damn your douche-bag piss-poor quotes you prick.” She gives you one more stroke and ends, “And fuck you.”

Letting go she slides back to her side of the bed and picks up her tablet.

“That's at least a dozen and a half chips!” You gasp as your pulsating denied weapon now yearns for immediate relief.

“No.” Your wife calmly states. “You said we could talk dirty during sex, so that didn't count.”

“Then can we finish?!” You desperately ask.

Selina looks over at you and smiles, “To quote Solon of Athens, 'Pure chastity is beauty to our souls, grace to our bodies, and peace to our desires.'” And goes back to reading the sporting news.