A lot has happened since I last posted! My husband Henry and I successfully tried for another child, realized that three kids under three years old would be more than we could handle, and decided to get one of us snipped as quickly as possible. Some research about our different options quickly led to the conclusion that he should have the procedure instead of me, and we figured we could freeze some of his swimmers for a later date if we changed our minds.
Except for Henry getting annoyed at me for referring to the vasectomy as getting “neutered” and “gelded,” the whole process went off without a hitch fairly early into my second pregnancy. The only issue was, we didn’t exactly know how to mark the occasion. After spending the better part of a decade together, a not-insignificant portion of which was in quarantine, we had pretty much done all the weird shit to each other that we ever wanted to try. Our sex bucket list, a typed up note on my phone, had dwindled from a scrollable catalog to a couple lines of largely impractical sex acts and celebrity hall passes. (Pedro Pascal, hit me up if you ever want to get weird.) One of the few remaining fantasies was Henry cumming inside someone else’s pussy. And, if I’m being honest, there was also a large part of me that wanted to offer Henry some kind of reward for having the operation so I wouldn’t have to. Which is dumb, since I was the one who had to give birth twice, but whatever. I wanted to do something nice for him.