Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger.
This week we hear from Emma* a 46-year-old married mum-of-three from Oxfordshire, who has sex about once-a-week.
After getting married 16 years ago, Emma sometimes feels like her sex life with husband, Simon*, 46, could be more exciting.
‘We’re just always too busy and tired with three young kids to squeeze sex in, and when we do I wish we weren’t interrupted so often,’ she explains.
‘However I’m happy that we still have sex at all, given most of my married friends rarely do.’
Writing her diary with the Christmas and New Year festivities in full swing, Emma wasn’t expecting to have much luck in the bedroom department, but it turns out to be a rather frisky week.
So, without any further ado, here’s how she got on this week…
The following sex diary is, as you might imagine, not safe for work.
Tuesday
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My eyes open and it’s 1am and pitch black and I can hear banging around downstairs.
Slowly I realise that we’re not being burgled but that Simon, 46, must have got the last train home from his office Christmas do.
As he makes his way upstairs very noisily, I feel the fury bubbling up inside about him disturbing my sleep, and hold my breath desperately hoping that he doesn’t wake our three children up too.
Next minute he stumbles into the bedroom and very clumsily removes his clothes before getting in bed and trying to kiss me.
The smell of curry and beer hits me and makes my stomach turn. Without engaging in any conversation I pretend I’m still asleep and roll over so that my back’s to him.
Pulling the duvet up around me I stay still and soon I hear him snoring loudly next to me.
Later, I’m woken up early by the kids as usual. By the time Simon stirs it’s nearly lunchtime and I can tell he’s got the hangover horn by the way he keeps trying to kiss and cuddle me, but the lingering stale curry and beer breath is definitely not a turn on.
Once the kids get home it’s a simple routine of making dinner and falling into bed – no funny business today.
Wednesday
The festive wind down means Simon is working from home today instead of being in London as usual.
Laying leisurely in bed I look over and notice my husband looks rather sexy, and the thought of him being lusted after by all the girls in the office the other night turns me on.
I reach over and grab him under the duvet, feeling he’s hard already. Pulling down my PJs I roll on top of him and he can’t quite believe his luck. He starts kissing me passionately. I can’t remember the last time we had Wednesday morning action!
Then there’s footsteps on the landing and knocking on our bedroom door.
‘Anyone want a bacon sandwich?’ a voice says. Remembering my mother-in-law had come back from school drop-off, we both freeze like naughty school children and I quietly clamber off him.
‘No thanks!’ we reply in unison.
Needless to say a mother-in-law in my midst is the biggest passion killer known to man, and I get up and put my dressing gown on before jumping in the shower and going downstairs to make polite conversation.
In the evening, the kids are keen to make gingerbread houses, so the kitchen worktops are soon littered with icing and sweets. Simon gets the train to London for yet another festive drinks session while the children and I have an early night.
Thursday
With the mother-in-law gone there is an air of sexual tension as Simon and I wake up and remember yesterday morning’s so near, yet so far under the covers action.
This morning though, we’ve woken up with our youngest, 3, in our bed after she had a nightmare in the night.
The morning is a lazy one and Simon dips into our spare room to do a few work calls, as me and the children have breakfast and watch TV. Just before 11am with the children all engrossed in a Christmas film, I pop upstairs for a shower.
I’m naked and about to step in when Simon walks in and locks the door behind him!
‘But the children are downstairs!’ I whisper, as he starts stripping off. ‘We’ve got time,’ he smiles, shushing me.
Then with the shower still running we both step inside and he enters me quickly from behind as I lean up against the cold tiles. We have the most frantic, passionate sex I can remember for a long time.
It’s exciting and makes me feel sexy. I wish he’d take these opportunities more often, although it’s easier said than done with three kids.
Afterwards I wash my hair then get dried and dressed and go downstairs to find the children haven’t moved from the sofa. I head out to the supermarket which takes forever, before getting home with piles of food I have to shoehorn in the fridge.
Friday
The kids are hyper this morning, Simon’s horny, and I’m running around like a headless chicken wrapping last-minute stocking fillers and getting the beds made for all the family to stay over.
As I’m stripping the sheets off our bed he comes at me from behind, fully clothed, and starts kissing my neck.
‘Are you kidding?’ I snap. ‘I don’t have time for that!’
Unperturbed he tries his luck stroking my bum before I tell him in no uncertain terms there are absolutely no time for anything other than serious Christmas prep.
Secretly it feels nice to know he still fancies me, even though I don’t have a scrap of makeup on and am in my comfy leggings and hoodie.
After festive drinks with friends and family that evening, we both climb into bed tipsy and before we know it we are kissing passionately. One thing leads to another and we have a quick, but very satisfying, shag.
It starts with me riding him and then ends in missionary. It’s probably a bit clumsier than usual, but that gives it a carefree edge which I love. After we both come at the same time I fall asleep snuggled up on his chest feeling really happy and content.
Saturday
The last Saturday before Christmas and we are hosting the inaugural cul-de-sac festive drinks and nibbles. By 3pm the house is heaving with neighbours knocking back mulled wine and kids chasing around with Nerf guns.
Everyone brings a sharing platter and by the time we roll into bed about 11pm my lips are black with mulled wine stain, and my stomach is full of so much cheese and chutney it’s virtually dripping out of my pores.
I’m so stuffed the thought of engaging in any sexual activity makes me want to vomit. When I look over Simon is already snoring next to me and I feel secretly relieved he doesn’t want it either. It’s comforting to know we’re on the same wavelength.
Sunday
After breakfast the grandparents pick up the children to take them to visit Santa at the local garden centre, and Simon and I stay at home to clear up the house and finish the wrapping.
With the house quiet Simon presents me with an early Christmas present. Following his instructions to open it I unwrap some very sexy, albeit particularly impractical, underwear that he’s bought for me.
‘I didn’t want to give it to you in front of the kids!’ he smiles.
The thong knickers are definitely not what I’d have chosen, and the bra doesn’t have nearly enough padding for my ironing-board chest but when I put it on Simon can’t keep his hands off me.
The sex is very fast (we don’t know when the children will be back after all) but clearly what we need.
He bends me over the dressing table and we watch the action in the mirror. We both climax at the same time and then fall back to sleep before waking up over an hour later at to the sound of the kids hammering on the door.
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I can’t stop smiling at how exciting and spontaneous it is. It feels like being naughty teenagers again!
I manage to quash my irk about the amount of money he’s spent on the most impractical underwear known to man by thinking about the amazing orgasm I’ve just had.
For the first time in years, our festive season has got off to a racy start!
Monday
Not long after lunch the family starts to descend upon us in preparation for the big day. The three children are all moved into airbeds in our room where they’ll sleep for the next few nights.
By teatime the house is heaving with people and I know that means the end of our sex life until they all go home on Boxing Day morning!
It’s a tad depressing when I think back to the pre-children festive bonk fests we used to have, but when I spot the new underwear in the wash basket I smile to myself thinking about the next time I’m going to wear it, and the orgasm that lays in store when I do!
When I think of how many of my friends tell me they don’t have sex with their husbands anymore, I feel really lucky the spark is still very much alive in my marriage – albeit slightly dimmed at times by the chaos of parenting.
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