Seven Days While My Wife Was Away--Day Five

The Caligula of Palm Springs

Sammy-Sander on pixabay.com

The police allowed one phone call, so I phoned Maddie in Santa Cruz. She explained to the officer that I was indeed who I said I was, not a pervert or burglar. So the police drove me home, and I showed the cop my driver’s license.

”Sorry for the misunderstanding,” he said.

“At least your trying to keep the neighborhood safe,” I replied.

The charges were dropped, and I was finally in the house. I wore my booty pajamas and did what any red-blooded male would do when his wife was not home—I watched porn and put a frozen pizza in the toaster oven.

I hadn’t watched porn in a while, and I had much catching up to do. So much has changed since I was a young man looking at smokers on videotapes, DVDs, and Blu-ray. Now, you open up your computer and type in, let’s say, beaver, and you get a whole slew of different porn sites—every sexual fetish available at your fingertips. I was in pornographic heaven if there was such a place.