Call in sick . . . fucking is more important than food

"Why don't I call in sick?" You suggest as your wife gets up and continues to sip her coffee.

Her eyes lock with yours. "That sounds good," she purrs. "I could find some good uses for you around the house."

She walks over to kiss you briefly on the lips. "And maybe some uses outside the house. Or who knows where..."

That is all you need. Quickly, you call the office and get in touch with both your secretary and the boss' secretary. When both have been informed of your sickness and believed you adequately, you hang up, trying to decide what to do and where to go now.

"What do we do first?" you ask your wife.

She takes a last gulp of her coffee, licking her lips as she finishes. "Taste," she smiles. "They should have sperm flavored coffee."

"Honey!"

Your wife laughs. "Anywhere you want to go baby. If I don't like it I'll say so."