Guest blog by Kevin Skeeb
I’m not trying to brag or anything, but I just got engaged. I got engaged to a wonderful woman, the love of my life, and my very best friend. I feel like we’ve already been through everything together—through thick and thin. But there’s one thing I’ve been saving for marriage, because it’s a sacred act I was taught to wait for until your wedding night. Obviously I’m talking about Butt Stuff.
Sure, I’ve had premarital sex with my fiancée, Ruthie, and I had had sex with girlfriends before that, and a few random flings, too. But that was all normal-style sex. Classic-hole sex. I was raised to believe that the butt was sacred, and something you save for marriage.
Doing Butt Stuff before you’ve put a ring on that finger and said your vows in front of your friends and family puts you on the fast-track to Hell. And in Hell, you spend eternity in flames, screaming and gnashing your teeth, and there is nary a butt to be found. Hell is an eternity of being deprived of butts. Zero butts, pal, I tell you what. Marriage is worth it to wait, if you ask me.
Call me old-fashioned if you want, but when my fiancée wanted to take it to the “next level,” I told her, “Keep that butt in your pants, babe, I’ll holler when I’m ready.” And that holler will come on the night of our wedding, when my wife and I are finally alone after the reception, in our bed, after reciting our Rump Prayers. After the prayers, I’ll let out seven succinct squawks, because that is the Holler of Readiness, and then I will finally, at long last, “dance with the moon.”
I know waiting isn’t for everyone, but I’m proud to keep conservative values alive.
Kevin Skeeb is also waiting until marriage to get married.
Image by pixabay.