Sunday Afternoon Spanking

One of the things Musicman told me during a recent discussion about TTWD is that he didn't see it as much of a change for us. He just sees it as upping the intensity of things. In most ways I would say I agree. It hasn't really changed much in our daily lives. Our roles within our relationship have been firmly established for a long time. I would say though that spanking is an effective new tool to help me when I get stuck in a hormone driven menopausal meltdown.

When we both worked fulltime and the kids were younger and life was just so busy, we didn't have much "us" time. We even had a time when the kids were little that we scheduled time for sex. I remember it was Wednesday nights. The reason we picked Wednesday was because we always made time for sex on the weekends, but we wanted more, so Wednesdays it was.

Now we don't need to schedule time as our life has slowed down considerably. However, we are still in the habit of taking advantage of the time and available energy on the weekends for some more involved and energetic romps. It is not unusual for us to retire to our room very early on Saturday's to play.

Unfortunately that was not the case this past Saturday evening as Musicman was a bit under the weather. We had a great day together doing some shopping and errands. I found some small things I needed for the paddle I am making, and clothespins.

I laughed when he asked me why I needed the clothespins since we already had some. The look on his face when I told him the ones we had were the wrong kind cracked me up. I'm still not sure he realizes that clothespins can be considered a pervertable or why I wanted that particular style. I guess if he doesn't figure it out I will tell him at some point.

While I was a bit disappointed about not having playtime Saturday night, I was more upset that he was not feeling well. I really had nothing to complain about as far as playtime since we had been together Friday night and again Saturday morning. Really, it would not be too cool of me to complain about only having sex once a day. It would be kind of like complaining that I only orgasmed 5 or 6 times as opposed to double digits. That never gets me any sympathy.

Sunday was a bit of an odd day. I had woken up from a terrible nightmare and was a bit off. I let things get to me and just got stressed out. I cry when I'm stressed, not very productive, but there it is. Musicman was busy with things he needed to get done, but he checked on me frequently to see how I was doing. I stayed busy and by mid afternoon was better. Our son had been in and out all day. Playtime was not even on my radar.

I'm not sure if it was on Musicman's radar or if it was the email I had sent him that put it on his radar. I had sent him an email earlier in the week, just kind of clarifying and reinforcing some things. As usual, I forgot to tell him I sent it. Oh well, he apparently found it while I was making dinner.

I suspect that because after dinner I was taken up to our room and was soon naked and bent over the edge of the lounge. The hairbrush got a pretty decent workout. I was off in Lala land after the second stroke. At one point he reached for my hair to guide me upright. He was saying something to me, not sure what, I don't hear too well when I'm lost in the fog that way. When I didn't say anything I found myself being pushed back down and the hairbrush came into play again.  And then hands, and mouth and other delicious body parts.

Many orgasms later he lifted me up to guide me to the bed. It is only a few feet away, but if he had let go of me at that point I would most likely have fallen over. That's how out of it I was at that point, lost in the nirvana of ecstasy and incapable of coherent thought or action. I didn't need to think though as he told me exactly what he wanted. I was very happy to give him everything he wanted, and I did, twice. I like the way he is upping the intensity.

Sleeptalking. Sleepwalking. Sleepspanking?

Anyone who reads here with any regularity knows I am an insomniac. Musicman is not, he can sleep at the drop of a hat. I envy him that ability sometimes. He is however what I call, an active sleeper.

He talks in his sleep. He did not tell me this at the beginning. I found out the hard way a few months into the relationship. The first time he talked in his sleep it was an interesting conversation. It didn't make much sense, but, interesting none the less. If I answer him when he starts talking he will answer me and keep talking. I have said many times over the years that we have had some of our best conversations when he is asleep.

I find it particularly amusing to ask him for things. He is always quick to promise me whatever I ask for.  Just recently he promised to give me my own tropical island. He promised to frolic naked on the beach with me. And, he promised to spank me whenever I wanted. Such a shame I can't hold him to promises made while he sleeps. Besides, anyone who knows Musicman would realize how ridiculous those promises are. He hates the sun, so he would never frolic on the beach with me.

Musicman also walks in his sleep. He did warn me about that, but how do you prepare for that? It took me awhile to figure out why I would sometimes wake up in the morning and find our apartment door wide open. I was sure it had been both closed and locked when we went to bed.  I soon learned to wake up when he got up and ask him where he was going. Based on his answer I knew if he was awake or asleep. If he was asleep I would tell him to lay back down and he would. Problem solved.

Both of our children walk and talk in their sleep too. It's no wonder I don't sleep. Musicman's slumbering adventures are well known among family and friends.  Well...the vanilla adventures anyway. When the conversation turns that way I always say I am going to get a sound proof bedroom and not let anybody in. That always gets me a look from Musicman. We both know I'm not sleeping anywhere other then with him.

Much like when he is awake, if I'm near he is touching me. This doesn't stop when he sleeps. If I wear anything to bed it is a short nightie or over sized tank top, easy access to all the lady parts. I am very used to being groped and grabbed in my sleep. A hand on me, kneading my breast or stroking between my legs is neither uncommon nor unwelcome.

Last night however he did something he has never done before. He was asleep, but tossing and turning quite a bit. I rubbed his back some, that helps him settle sometimes. I was laying on my side facing him. He turned over towards me and flopped an arm over me. Nothing out of the ordinary there. His hand landed just above my butt, it rested there a minute. Then his hand started to migrate, down, towards my backside. It came to rest squarely on my bare butt. Still, not unusual.

Then he lifted his hand and started to spank me. My eyes flew open, his face inches from mine, he was sound asleep. After a few swats he stopped and started to rub. After a short time of rubbing he lifted his hand again and started to spank again. A few more swats, then he rubbed some more. I kept checking, thinking he must be awake. Nope, sound asleep, snoring gently away, mere inches from my face. This cycle of spanking and rubbing went on for about ten minutes, then he rolled away and I soon fell asleep.

Hmmm...do you suppose he might be a spanko too?

His Hands

I've been thinking about my man's hands today. It doesn't seem to matter what I start out thinking about I keep circling back to his hands. I love his hands.

They are not aesthetically beautiful hands by any means. They are working hands, rough and calloused. He often has cuts, nicks and scratches on his hands. Many times they are covered in oil and grease and dirt, the fingernails ragged.  I buy special industrial cleaner just for his hands, it smells like oranges. He doesn't particularly like his hands. I love his hands.

His hands are strong and could easily crush mine if he's not careful. He's always careful. Most nights we fall asleep holding hands.

His hands are very talented. He makes beautiful music on his guitar with those hands. Just watching his hands move across the strings is enough to turn me on. For a daydreamer like me it is easy to get lost in the thoughts of his hands strumming along my body in place of those strings.  Plucking the pleasure from me like the lovely tunes from his guitar.

His hands, as he reaches out to grab whatever part he can reach whenever I walk near. I've teased him for years that living with him is like living with an octopus, all hands. I love his hands.

His hands, roaming my body, waking me from a sound sleep. His hands, slowly tracing my lips, the urge to suck his fingers in too great to resist. His hands, buried in my hair, tugging gently but firmly until I lift my head to receive his kiss.

His hands buried in my hair, holding me firmly in place as I kneel in front of him. His hands, fingers entwined in my hair, pulling me closer until I have no choice but to open my mouth and take him in.

His hands, as he tosses me around the bed like a rag doll, positioning me for both our pleasure. His hands, as he spanks me. His hands, that hold the paddle he has learned to weild, because I asked. The anticipation of the next blow to fall is almost too much.

His hands, capable of giving the most exquisite pain, the most delicious of pleasures. His hands, one on each side of my face, holding me in place so I can't look away as he enters me. The intensity in his eyes burns soul deep. I would have missed it if it wasn't for his hands. I love his hands. 

His hands covering my mouth as I scream my surrender. His hands, holding me as I float back to myself exhausted, yet sated.

His hands exploring my face in the dark to check for tears. His hands, pulling me close to rub my back and offer comfort when the worries of the world become too much.

His hands, changing our first child's first diaper. His hands, baiting the fish hook and preparing the pole when he taught our kids to fish. His hands, tying ribbons into a little girls hair because mommy is at work and can't do it. His hands, throwing the football to our son, only to have it stolen by the dog. His hands, that built me a potting bench for Mother's Day. I love his hands.

The Nor'easter

I can't believe it's been five days since I wrote something. It wasn't because I had nothing to say, as if that ever happens.  Quite the contrary actually, we had a great weekend. Then I woke up sick Monday morning. I've been lost in a fever haze for the last 2 days, too weak to even get out of bed for other then the most basic things. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't sexy, I was stuck in my own little world of misery.

I'm finally feeling human today, I've showered and instead of nasty old sweats I put a skirt on, that always makes me feel better. I've never been great at remembering the details and when you add in the lost days things get really hazy.

Musicman had read my blog shortly after dinner Friday evening. I found that out about five minutes after our son went out for the evening. That's about how long it took for him to take me up to our bedroom and undress me. I remember a lovely spanking and some knock your socks off playtime. I do believe we covered everything in the post and more, a few times.

The funny thing is the most prominent memory is wondering if the neighbors heard us. It had been unseasonably warm on Friday and I had opened some of the bedroom windows and blinds. Our bedroom faces the street.  I never even thought to close the blinds until about halfway through the warm up spanking. Musicman had already taken care of that.

I also remember Musicman putting his hand over my mouth a couple different times. He does that when I get loud, it usually just makes me louder. I'm not good with volume control, especially when I know the house is empty. It's a good possibility they heard something. Does that make me an exhibitionist since it doesn't bother me a bit that the neighbors might have heard?

Saturday morning dawned 50 degrees colder then the previous day, brrr. I hauled myself out of a cozy warm bed and left Musicman to sleep while I took our daughter to work. I had been answering comments on here until time to leave when she called and said she didn't have to go in. Score!!!!

I went back up to our room, stripped and crawled back into bed, snuggled up to a nice warm Musicman and fell asleep. I was woken a few hours later by Musicman's hands roaming all over my body. That is my favorite way to wake up, a close second would be a good morning spanking. I got that too and plenty of sexy playtime.  It was some time after noon when I finally hauled a sore and sated body out of bed and into the shower.

Other then showering and dressing we exerted enough energy to see a movie and get takeout. By then the rains and wind that blew in with the Nor'easter were picking up. We soon were home and tucked in for the rest of the weekend. We watched movies and the race and cooked together and hung out and had one fast and furious encounter on Sunday afternoon.

It all seems so far away now and a lot of the details gone with the last few days of illness, but the feelings of contentment and satisfaction and love are still there. The Nor'easter has blown through and the sun is back out. I'm feeling much more my spunky self. Maybe I can get a do over and skip the illness part, afterall, while I might have been ill, I wasn't stressed at all.

TGIF

Thank goodness it's Friday. This week has been horrible. Would anyone like a teenage boy?  At this point I would pay someone to take him.



The weather here today is beautiful, but that is going to change. It is supposed to be cold and rainy for the weekend. Maybe the boy child will find somewhere to go.

If we have an empty house I have a better chance of this happening.



Ahh, stress relief!!!!

I'll want to do this.



Maybe he will let me do this.



Or we could do this.



Or maybe this.



Oh to be young and flexible again.

Wish me luck!!

BUSTED

Kitty recently posted on her blog Sweet Surrender asking if anyone had ever been caught by their kids and to share the story. I commented that I had not, but did it count if I had been caught by the police. She reminded me that I had mentioned that before and she was interested in the back story.  Kitty, here's your back story, I hope you find it interesting. Or at least good for a laugh.

I am a city girl, as a young child I lived in a city of 605,000 people. The city I live in now is not that large, only 105,000. Despite the fact that I am a city girl I love to be outside. I also have always loved to play outside. I have played in many different places, a tractor in the middle of a cornfield, a cemetary, multiple beaches and forests, a natural rock shelter on the side of a mountain. I love nature.

We often play by our pool, it is surrounded by a privacy fence and while noise can be heard, nothing can be seen. The gate to the pool has a lock on both the inside and the outside which prevents intruders. If the fence is rockin, don't come knockin.

Musicman is a country boy. He was raised here in the city where we live, but he grew up hunting and fishing with his Dad and uncles and cousins. We live in what is referred to as the "inner city", but you can drive in any direction for 30 minutes and be in beautiful countryside. We have alot of state parks and state gamelands all around us. Musicman is familiar with all of them.

We have explored many areas over the years and have some favorite places we like to play. One of them I have written about before in my post Fireflies. That particular place is about 45 minutes south of us. Peek firefly season is spring through mid summer, they are gone by July usually.

We live on the shores of one of the Great Lakes and have lovely beaches just 10 minutes from home. Those are not good places to play, too many people during the day and they are closed after dark. However, if we go west about 45 minutes, along the shore line are some state gamelands with a very nice beach. Not many people use that beach during the day and it is open all night. It is perfect for some playtime.

We had packed the necessities and spent the evening on the beach. We walked, we waded in the lake, I collected seashells and drift wood. We settled down on our banket and watched the sunset. When the setting sun catches the Catamaran sails down the lake the colors sparkle on the water like jewels.

After the sun fully set we had the beach all to ourselves. Usually when we are going to be playing outside somewhere I will wear a long, full skirt and camisole. Easy access while still maintaining some semblance of modesty. The skirt can cover a lot in a hurry if you get discovered. This particular time I did not have on a skirt. I had on a stretchy one piece shorts thingy.  I don't remember why I had that on, but it was dark, we were alone and it was soon laying discarded on the corner of the blanket we were playing on. I may have some issues, but getting naked outside isn't one of them.

We saw headlights coming down the road, they pulled into the parking lot. We probably looked like the Keystone Kops as we hurriedly disentangled and scrambled for our clothes.  We just managed to get our clothes on and up on to our feet when we were hit right in the eyes by the beam of a flashlight. It was the cops, we were busted. They were very nice about everything, but it was obvious they knew what had been going on. I think they were both surprised and relieved that they hadn't discovered teenagers messing around. They told us to be careful and don't leave any garbage when we left. We packed up and left shortly after them.

We still sometimes play in those gamelands, but not on the beach. We found a more secluded spot.

Do You Have One?

Safe word that is?   We don't, yet.

I did bring it up once, a few months ago. The conversation didn't really ever get started. Musicman started quoting a line from a movie about safe words that made me laugh. That distracted me and I didn't pursue it further.  There are two reasons why I haven't pursued it.

The first is, I don't think I need it because I trust him implicitly. I do however wonder if it wouldn't benefit him to know I have one and will use it if needed. I can see where it might make some things easier for him if he knew that. That brings me to the second reason why I haven't pursued it.

Musicman has no reason to believe I would be able to use it.

Remember those barriers I talked about in my last post?  Remember I said that Musicman has always respected them and never pushed too hard at them? That doesn't mean he hasn't pushed at all, he has. In a very gentle, non threatening(read non dominant) way.  That technique has been successful in getting me past some of the barriers, but not the big ones.

One of the biggest barriers I have had involves speech during intimate times. Not only can I not say anything, but for a long time I didn't want him to talk either. Yeah, not so good. Musicman may not necessarilly like to talk about emotions and stuff, but during sex he turns into a chatty cathy. Not only does he like to talk, but he wants me to also. Yikes!!!! No, no, no, I don't think so.

The content of what he might say didn't seem to matter much either. I didn't want to hear any of it. Over the years when he would start to talk I have told him he talks too much, I've told him he asks too many questions. I've distracted him by shoving body parts in his face. I've visibly cringed and stared at him with a deer in the headlights look. He never has stopped talking, just scaled it back to a point that I could handle better.

This has been my biggest disappointment with myself. We have talked about it over the years outside the bedroom. I understand what it means to him. I understand where this issue springs from, and yet, I still can't do it.

I have gotten to a point that I really, really like it when he talks. I want so badly to do that for him, but I can't. I have tried so hard at times that I have ended up in tears of frustration. It is almost like the connection between my brain and my vocal cords is broken. No matter how much I try, how much I want to do it, nothing comes out. SO FRUSTRATING.

I have been able on the rare occasion during intense moments of pleasure to get out a whispered word. I doubt if it has ever even been loud enough for him to hear. During less intense moments when I can actually get the brain to put some words together in a cohesive way, I open my mouth, and nothing comes out. I haven't even been able to broach the subject of him helping me with this.

Since I couldn't seem to talk about it, I did the next best thing. I sent him an email. I emailed him a blog post of some conversation that I really liked. I hoped it would help him realize where I was trying to get to. As usual, I forgot to tell him I sent the email. I have no idea if he found it or not. If he didn't find it, based on what happened on Saturday, I didn't need to send it.

Busting Through Boundaries

I have had a bit of writer's block going on. I have things I want to write about, but haven't been able to find a good starting place. So, I guess I'm just gonna dive in and see where it goes, possibly no where.

One of the things we have been having a bit of an issue with is intensity. I want more and he doesn't want to hurt me. I get that he doesn't want to hurt me, I also understand that he doesn't just mean physically. This has been a huge issue for us ALWAYS.

There was a time very early on in our relationship that I had problems with flashbacks to the trauma that occurred in my childhood. I don't know exactly how Musicman knew what to do when they happened, but he always did. He always helped me get throught them and with time they slowed, then stopped.

I had a lot of limits in those day. Things I couldn't or wouldn't do. Things that made me unconfortable, things I feared would trigger another flashback. Musicman has always been respectful of those boundaries and careful about pushing too hard at them.

Those boundaries, while necessary, always pissed me off. I wanted to be able to do what he wanted, give him what he wanted. I wanted to make him happy and I really regretted those stupid boundaries that held me back. We have built these boundaries around my very scarred and scared inner child to protect both her and me. We have done a great job at not triggering her, but she is always there. I never really know when she is going to start whispering painful memories to me.

When things don't work as well as we would like, as they have a few times, we both wondered if we were pushing the boundaries too much. I admit, I didn't want to face that possibility. I didn't want to look at the chubby, curly haired little girl with the haunted eyes. I didn't want to hear anymore of her memories. I don't want to be held back by her anymore.

I tried ignoring her, that never works. I thought about running as that did work, once. The reality of that is I'm not going anywhere. Musicman is my life and I would never willingly give him up. That only leaves one other avenue, listen to her and deal with whatever new horror she neads to share.

I screwed up my courage and I faced her, ready to hear whatever she needed to get out. What I discovered surprised me. She hasn't been triggered, she has nothing to tell me. In fact, for the first time ever, she is very content and quiet all tucked up in the arms of an angel, just resting.

This led me to a pretty amazing realization. This part of myself that comes out when I feel his dominance, it's not her. It's someone else, someone who isn't trying to escape the taint of abuse on her. Someone who doesn't need those boundaries to protect her.

I also realized that when things don't go as well as we would like, it's not because Musicman pushed too hard. It's because he hasn't pushed hard enough. She's there, waiting, she wants to come out and play, but it takes alot to make that happen. She is shy and insecure and needs the dominance, needs his strength and control and then she will come out. Sometimes, when it isn't quite enough, she peeks, but she won't come out. That's when I try to chase her, cause I really like her and want her to come out. The problem with chasing her is that scares her and she disappears before I can catch her.

I never thought I would find the part of myself that didn't need those abuse induced boundaries to feel safe. I hoped I would, but I never really believed it would happen. It did happen, I found her, the part of myself that is truly free. She is not my inner child, but she needs a name, she deserves a name. It seems so obvious now.  She's faerie.

Just Words

I've been thinking about words and the power they hold. I've been thinking about how that power influences my life. How sometimes the words flow so smoothly and the picture comes together. And, how sometimes I struggle to find the words to adequately express myself.

I think about the words that have become labels in my life. How I allow those labels to define me. I reach for the words to redefine myself and change those labels. Sometimes that is easy for me, sometimes it's not.

In truth, I would like to cast off the labels, but life doesn't really allow for that. Without the labels I would be left with the question, who am I? So I learn to manipulate the words that form the labels.

Some labels I have worked hard to wear. I want to embrace those labels forever, there is comfort and security to be had in them. Some labels were given to me and were appropriate at the time. When they are no longer appropriate, they fall painlessly by the wayside.  Always to be replaced with something new, something more appropriate for the circumstances.

Some labels I never wanted and refuse to acknowledge. Unfortunately, just the suggestion of those labels is enough to influence and change me. Often I run from those labels because facing them is too hard.

It's good to remember that labels are just words. Words have power, but words can be manipulated. Context can be changed, usage can be altered, control of the power can be harnessed.

I'm learning to take control, harness the power of the words. I'm learning to use that power to walk past the labels. I'm learning to change the context of the words, to use them to redefine the labels.

Words have power.

Thank you all for sharing your words with me, for lending me your power. I will use it wisely, I will redefine myself and create the labels that I want to live with.

Falling Off The Learning Curve

I am aware that when starting this lifestyle there is a bit of a learning curve. I'm so tired of falling off that curve. I'm even more tired of being thrown off. I know he doesn't mean to do that, but it keeps happening anyway.

The weekend started off well enough, but it soon devolved into a series of miscommunications on both our parts that caused a bit of an issue. Musicman has developed a bad habit of speaking before he thinks. He says things off the cuff, things that are not designed to hurt me, but they do. My usual response of late is to withdraw into silence, at which point he gives up and ignores me.

He knows ignoring me is the worst thing he could do, or at least he should because I've told him that multiple times. Besides, that is not new, I have never been ammenable to being ignored. I made a concerted effort not to withdraw into silence because I know that's not helpful.

He made an effort, he took advantage of an empty house, we had some play time. Everything is good, NOT. Sometimes it just doesn't quite work as well as we would like. It works fine for him, just not so much for me sometimes. It is not my most shining moment to say the least when this happens.

My mind floods with all kinds of doubts and negativity. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want me. This is not working. I'm a freak and I should just stop needing this. I shouldn't be so sensitive, that is what Musicman tells me. Hmm, a sensitive female, go figure. He also says I shouldn't think so much. We've been here before and I don't like the scenery much.

I made an effort to talk about the issue. Musicman listens, but he makes almost zero effort to respond. Apparently it's okay for me to struggle to communicate but not him. I make it too easy for him because I am more then willing to make excuses for him. I tell myself he's been through so much the last few months, he just needs more time. I get that, afterall, it's not like he has gone through this all alone.

After the useless histrionics on my part concluded I worked up my courage and told him what I needed. It was hard, but I kept reminding myself he is not a mind reader. In a pathetic attempt to avoid actually giving voice to my needs I asked him if he had learned to read my mind yet. He assured me he had not. So I found my voice and I told him I needed more. Yay me, forward progress, even if baby steps, is still progress.  He listened, he gave me what I needed. All is good. Until the next morning.

I woke up much earlier than he did. Not unusual and not a problem, I was having coffee and reading the newspaper. I'm a bit of a news junkie and love to read the newspaper. I had baked cinammon rolls for breakfast. It should have been a pleasant morning. It would have been if he just would have thought for one minute before opening his mouth and making a careless comment. A comment that if he had thought at all about he would have realized that it would do nothing but add fuel to the doubts I wrestle with. I tried not to retreat, I told him how the comment affected me. He said I need to be less sensitive, it was a joke. I didn't find it funny.

He tells me he doesn't like to see my sad eyes, he wants me to be happy. He has the ability to help me be happy, but he tells me if I'm not happy that's up to me to fix. To a certain extent I agree. There is one small problem with that though, I can't do this alone, if I could I certainly would.

I don't think he realizes how dangerous it is to say things like that to me when I'm upset. You see, I will fight for what I want, I'll fight with everything I have. That's how I survived my childhood, by never giving up. But, at some point if it seems like losing is inevitable, I'll stop fighting. I'll change my strategy, I'll run. The last time I ran I was 17. I found myself 1000 miles away from anyone or anything familiar. I had a borrowed car, a box of basic necessities, a suitcase of clothes and a small amount of money and that's it. I had no place to live, no job and didn't know a soul. I survived.

I've never considered giving up on this relationship, I've never considered running. Lately, when things like this happen, and he says off hand things, things that he doesn't even remember saying later, I think about running. That scares me.

HAPPY EASTER

      





             

                 Happy   
       Easter!!

Safe travels and good times with family and friends is my wish for you!


 I like the black jelly beans if you are in the mood to share :)

Sleep

Having only gotten 4 hours of sleep the prior night I was tired yesterday. Normally I would have consumed copious amounts of coffee(nectar of the Gods) to make it through the day. But, since I knew we had Musicman's procedure today I did not want to risk not sleeping last night, so I drank about a pot less then normal.  I need to be on my toes today so if we have any complications I will be ready. I needed sleep.

I went up to bed earlier then usual and curled up on my Tink pillow. I rarely fall asleep quickly, I was floating in the pre sleep ether when I heard Musicman come upstairs. When he came in the room I roused enough to ask him a question, then I drifted back into the fog.

Whoosh, off went the comforter. Oh, cold.

Unf, what is that?

Oh, hands all over me, mmm...feels so good.

Oh, lips and tongue roaming around...feels so good.

Sleep? No I don't need sleep.

Hands rolling me over from my side to my stomach, nighty is short, doesn't cover anything, cold butt.

Smack, oh that's better, not so cold now.

Smack, ow...ummm.

Smack, Smack, Smack, back arching up into his hand, do it again, do it again, please!

Smack, Smack, Smack, crawling up his body.  Could I please crawl into your skin with you? I need to be closer.

Smack, Smack, Smack, Mmm, he has the yummiest hands.

Yummy hands rolling me over again, onto my back this time, legs spread wide.

Smack, oh, yes, yes, yes.

Smack, Smack, Smack , hurts soooo goood.

Tongue and teeth and hands playing with the lady parts. Back arching up to get closer to him, hands buried in his hair.

Smack, Smack, Smack, tongue...aaah, floating on a cloud.

"You're so wet."

Silky hardness sliding into the wetness.

Waves of pleasure engulfing me.

Sleep? What's that?

Up, up, up the next wave of pleasure crests over me.

Fireworks bursting everywhere, so pretty.

Climbing again...oh, look at all the pretty colors.

Hands at my thoat, hard cock pounding into me, words that I barely register.

Climb, explode, climb, explode on into oblivion.

Gone! What? Where did he go?

Hands in my hair, pulling me up onto my knees.

Pay attention, he's talking again. What's that? Suck your cock?

Yes Sir. My pleasure Sir.

Mmmm, hard cock sliding into my mouth.

Oh, I can taste myself on him.

Smack, butt arches up a little higher as I continue to suck.

More words, more roaming hands.

My legs move of their own volition, wider, wider. Yummy hands! Everywhere!

Concentration is gone, hope I don't bite when I cum again.

Hands in my hair pulling me off his cock, cum shooting all over my face, and hair, and neck and running down my chest.

I collapse over him as I cum one last time.

Sleep.

Insomniac Post

It's 3:30 in the morning and I am wide awake,  what's up with that ? Anyway, I thought since I couldn't sleep maybe I would write, hope it makes some kind of sense, lol.

It took me several weeks of almost constant ups and downs before I figured out why Musicman's health issues had become such a huge trigger for me. To say I was over reacting would be an understatement. It took a few more weeks to process it all and do the last few posts. Hopefully things will settle down a little now. We do have another procedure coming up in a few days and once we get through that we may be able to actually make some forward progress.  I'm gonna be cautiously optimistic and keep my fingers crossed.

I am the kind of person that must find the positive in everything before I can leave it alone. I'm still working on that in relation to the incidents of the last few weeks, so in the mean time I thought I would share how my weekend went.

It was a peaceful weekend which was a nice change. Musicman was feeling pretty good when we got up Saturday morning. Every time I got close to him he would swat me. That just makes me giggle, and find another reason to get close to him. When he's in a playful mood like that he tends to call me Woman, too cute.

We went out to do some errands, Musicman was looking for something particular. I happily wandered around the stores with him, just looking at whatever took my fancy. Sparkly things easily distract me. At one store I found myself totally mesmerized, by of all things, a baby blanket. I do not have any babies in my life so I didn't get it. But it was Tink, and it was so soft, and I really wanted it. Struck me as quite odd and I didn't get it. We had some lunch and did some more shopping, Musicman finally found what he was looking for, I got a pair of sandals. I love sandals, they're the perfect shoe cause they come off in under a second. Nothing better then bare feet.

Later that night Musicman surprised me by bringing my computer up to the bedroom and going to my blog. The man rarely even acknowledges that he reads it, so I was quite surprised. I soon found out what he was looking for though. He wanted me to show him some things I like. Unfortunately he meant videos and I don't really watch spanking or D/s or BDSM videos. They are just a little too intense for me most of the time. Odd that I want to do those things but I don't want to watch them, but there it is.

We did look at a few things, but it wasn't really what he wanted so we just commenced to playing. No spanking involved, but I have to say his verbal skills are improving. I swear if he keeps it up he is soon going to be able to talk me into an orgasm. Hmm...that might be fun. Sunday morning brought some lovely slow sleepy sex. My favorite way to start the day. A good weekend overall.

Of course I had to think more about the videos he wanted to see. So, I did something that totally icked me out. I went trolling for videos. I am really surprised how much I don't like watching them. I like to watch porn, if it's well done. I did find one that is passable, I emailed it to him, with a bit of an explanation of all the things he should ignore. I just realized as I wrote that, that I forgot to mention it to him. He doesn't check his email very often and it could sit there for months if I don't tell him.

Looking for the videos also made me wonder what I look like during a spanking. I really have no idea but for some reason I don't think my reactions look much like the ones I see in the videos. This of course led me to think about the times in the past that we have made videos. I'm usually nervous during the setup, but within just a few minutes I forget all about the camera. When we watch them back I am always kind of surprised how my reactions look compared to what I am feeling in the moment. Hmm...wonder where that video camera went?

Yesterday I was out on a mission, there is something particular that Musicman likes that is difficult to find, when I do find it I stock up. I was on a mission to restock, I went to the first store I usually find it at and they were out. I went to the second store, score, I stocked up. While I was happily loading my haul into the car I realized I was right next door to the store that had the baby blanket that had so mesmerized me. I bought it, and a queen size pillow. An hour later, a whip stitch with some eyelash yarn and I now have the most adorably cushy Tinkerbell pillow. It was funny when we went up to bed earlier this evening and I walked in to see Musicman holding the pillow. Somehow he just doesn't strike me as the Tinkerbell type, but boy is it soft. 

Emotional Collisions

Musicman is an emotionally reserved man. He has a "don't fuck with me" attitude that he wears like a dark cloak.  He is always on guard, scanning his surroundings, a predator protecting his territory. The natural resting position of his hands is a fist. You would have more success getting blood from an armadillo then you would getting him to show emotion.

I have seen him dominate an entire room just by entering it. Babies cry, small children hide and everyone else steers clear of him. Some people mistake his countenance for a lack of emotion. Some are stupid enough to attempt to evoke a reaction from him. Big mistake, it's much like watching someone pick up a stick and poke a bear. Both scenarios end the same predictable way, they pull back a bloody stump.

There are a few exceptions to his reserve, three to be exact. The first is blood relatives, the man will walk through fire for a family member. The second is his close circle of friends, men who he has known since his childhood and for all intents and purposes are family to him. The third is a very small category, a category of one, me.

It took me awhile when we first met to understand the way other people perceived him. It often surprised me the way people reacted, the comments they would make. My friends and family have said many times that he scares them. They would tell me they didn't understand how I could be with him.  Some family members even worried that he was abusive towards me. Once I stopped laughing I quickly corrected that notion. He's simply not capable of hurting a woman, any woman, especially me.

The truth of the matter is he has very intense emotions. He also has incredible control of those emotions and is very selective about who he chooses to display them to.  He never really stood a chance of concealing his emotions from me.  From the very first time we were together I could feel the connection to him, to his energy. It was much like a circuit breaker being turned on, the circle completed. It is a self substantiating circle that just increases in strength the longer we are together.

I think the fact that I can physically feel his emotions and energy has a lot to do with the fact that I am multi orgasmic. Not only does my body react physically to whatever stimulus he is providing but it also registers his pleasure in a physical way that heightens everything exponentially for me. It pushes mediocrity right out of the picture. If he isn't fully engaged and enjoying the encounter I will feel it in a physical way.

It feels like a fist to the gut, then it snaps and shoots energy throughout my body. It registers in my mind as a complete void of emotion, a black hole that sucks me in. It can be very confusing because my body will continue to register the physical pleasure he is giving me, the orgasms continue to flow. At the same time my reaction to what I feel coming from him is devastating me emotionally and I cry. I can always clearly differentiate which feelings are mine and which are his, but I can't control it.

Incidences like this are very rare, occurring only during times of extreme exhaustion and stress. We have been dealing with some serious health issues that have caused extreme stress for the last 3 1/2 months. His return to work 1 1/2 months ago have caused severe exhaustion for him most of the time. Recently we have experienced 2 incidents like I described above.

Sometimes being an empath is awesome, energizing and invigorating. Sometimes it's devastating, destructive and draining. It's always a part of who I am.