Ninja sex is also a useful form of whoopie when the two practicioners are parents. As any dual-income, tag team parents know, those moments alone for adult fun with your beloved spouse are oh so few and precious.

This is not to say that we fuck like crazed weasels on school nights right after the children are tucked in. (We save that for when grandma has the kids.) Oh no. Rather, it refers to those golden early morning romps while the home is quiet when we need to scratch that itch, but boxspring-cracking, headboard-bashing, BDSM, shout-it-from-the-rooftops sex is inappropriate. We would also never, ever boink with the kiddies in the room. That's just perverted.

Ninja sex parent-style also tunes your hearing to almost superpower levels. Many (oh man, way too many) times have the Vix and I had our undies at the ankles when we'd freeze at hearing a soft cough or creaking bed down the hall then quickly cover our frustrated privates as one (or more) of our sleepy childen wander in and silently squeeze in between us.

At those times, we'll just sigh and know that somewhere down the line we'll have another chance and roll over and go to sleep. Sometimes we'll tuck in the interruptus child and watch CNN or some ridiculous rerun. Sometimes, like this morning, we'll write something.

we twist the sheets
naked mummies

your hips cup
my sweet ass

and dawn remains
a few wingbeats away

our bodies wake
before our minds

with a soft purr you reach
between your legs and grab

my cock nestled
in your crack and

deftly plunge it in
grinding against me

lie still you say
and guide

my hands one to a nipple
the other to your clit

now you say and we play
our melody and rhythm

with quickening breaths
moistening skin and heat

careful to remind ourselves
before the lightning strikes

just don't wake the kids

Right. More lousy noder poetry, but this is to remind all you young hotties out there that we old folks still got it goin' on in more ways than you know.