Ain't No Knitting Going On Here

I'm trying to learn to knit. It's been quite frustrating, but I think I finally got it. Earlier in the week as I was struggling to make some progress with it, I heard about a survey done by the University of Alabama. The survey said people burn more calories knitting than they do having sex. I don't care, I'll still take sex over knitting any day.

I'm floating on cloud nine today, cause there ain't been any knitting going on here this weekend. Yep, our daughter and her little family went away for the weekend. Hmmm...now...how to get the boy child out of the house for awhile. Musicman to the rescue, he gave the boy money to go out.

Yay, finally, some privacy. We did our best to make the most of it.

The magic paddle was used. It's been awhile, about a month, I think. Wow, did that sting and then thud and then sting again. I even found myself at one point trying to scramble away from his reach. No, I was not successful at that, his hand on my back held me firmly in place.

Mmmmmm....I was already floating into never land when I heard him remark how red I was. Then a switch of implements, the leather strap. Oh yeah, love that leather strap. Love it on my butt, love it on my back, love it on my legs. He covered all those places.

He paused, grabbed my hair and leaned down to my ear, to tell me, very specifically, everything he was going to do to me next. Each thing was accompanied by a just right, tug of my hair. He definitely had my attention, unfortunately, my ability to respond with anything more than one word was lost.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, was all I could say. That wasn't exactly the response he was looking for, so he applied the leather strap some more. Oh, I was most definitely fine with that response. By the time he was done, I was so far beyond any kind of control I would have done or said (had I been able to speak) anything he told me to. I did manage, with some coaxing from him, to say what he wanted to hear.

He was as good as his word and proceeded to do all the things he had previously said he was gonna do. It was wonderful. Every time I thought I couldn't orgasm even one more time, he proved me wrong. I floated from one orgasm to another, sometimes mewling like a kitten, sometimes begging (for what I'm not sure), sometimes screaming, sometimes just gasping for breathe.

His hands grasping like vice grips on my hips, my back arching so far off the bed that I was practically standing on my head. Fists buried in the sheets, gripping tight while I writhed and wriggled in an effort to get closer, or get away. I'm not totally sure which. Doesn't matter either, cause I didn't get away. I got everything I've wanted and needed and then some.

It took me awhile to recover. I was in that glorious, floaty place, unable to feel my body. Just a limp ball of mush with nothing more to worry about than breathing.  I did eventually recover and turned my attentions to him and his beautiful cock, standing at attention waiting for me. I thanked him most profusely.

I slept the sleep of the dead and woke to a lovely hand spanking and some more orgasms. I don't know who the University of Alabama studied for their survey, but I highly doubt their findings. I don't think I could ever burn that many calories knitting, and don't even want to try.