Soup Anyone?

 

 

The pic and saying above have been intriguing me for two days now. It rings so true for me, without that mental connection it just doesn't work well for me.  That was clearly demonstrated yesterday. Also, it could be a case of Karma coming back to bite me in the ass.

 

 We were having a lazy day. We had already done weekend errands the night before, just so we could be a little lazy. Musicman had slept a good portion of the day, not really getting out of bed until mid afternoon.  In case I haven't mentioned it before, I really envy him that ability. Sleep, for me, is a competitive sport. One, I more often than not, lose at.

 

It was late afternoon, I was sitting on our bed, probably on my laptop, a movie on the TV. I had been up most of the day. I had done some chores and started a pot of soup. I had washed up, but hadn't dressed, just slipped on a pair of sweat pants with the T I had slept in. I know, I know, not very attractive, but some days were just made for being lazy. The wind was whipping bucketful's of rain against the house and turning the piles of snow into giant ice sculptures.  In my book, that's a good day to stay in and be lazy.

 

I know we were both surprised to find ourselves alone in the house. We hadn't been expecting that. He approached the bed and buried a fist in my hair, turning my face up to his. He's using that deep, authoritative voice. The one that makes shivers run down my spine and the butterflies in my belly come to life.

 

He says, "I'm going to take a shower.," and accompanies it with a light slap.

 

Ummm....okay...

 

He says, "Then, I'm going to fuck you," again, accompanied by a light slap.

 

Oh....Ummm...okay...

 

He says, "You can join me. "

 

A few more slaps to my cheek, and he walks out to go to the shower.

 

I sat there for a moment, almost a bit stunned. Stunned, that after this many years together, he still has that effect on me. Just a few words from him and I've already started to shift mindset. To think of the possibilities, of what's to come. The nerve endings all over my body have begun to tingle, as my mind shifts to that place. That place, evoked by the coming physical actions, that my mind goes to, that I find so indescribable.

 

I did join him in the shower, other than a few swats on the backside, it was pretty much all business. Our shower is not very big, which means not very conducive to play. Especially since neither one of us is young and nimble anymore. A broken hip would definitely cramp our style.

 

We met up again in the bedroom, him tweaking my nipples as he said, "I'm going to fuck you, after I warm your ass. I think you need your ass warmed up some."

 

I don't remember saying anything as he rolled me into position on my stomach. I just remember snuggling in, with a smile on my face, as I watched him pick up the leather strap.  Yes, one might say there is something wrong with me, because, the thought of a good strapping, not only makes me smile, it makes me wet, very wet. If you are one of those people, you probably shouldn't be reading here.

 

The leather strap striking on my ass and back felt so good. I was soon arching up to meet the strikes. Moans escaping  me unnoticed and unthought-of.  Floating into the haze, that's what it feels like for me. Floating in a huge, fluffy cloud of energy, hyper focused, yet insulated. He's talking, I hear and feel every word, it adds a dynamic, that builds the energy like a physical caress.

 

The strap is still falling. He's leaning down, that voice, speaking directly into my ear. That deep voice, the authority of it washing over me, in combination with the physical actions, to render me incapable of speech. That is the down side of this mental connection, this place in my mind, that the physical actions take me too. It seems to sever my vocal cords from my brain.

 

He's asking questions of me, he is insisting on my verbal response. I struggle so with that verbal response. It's not because I don't want to, I just can't seem to form words when I'm in that headspace. Sometimes, if I try really hard, I can get a word or two out. What really helps me, is when he provides the words and I can parrot them. Sometimes, he does that for me and sometimes it leads to me actually being able to verbalize all by myself, without it pulling me out of that headspace.

 

It took a few times of his asking, but I did manage to get out a somewhat breathless, "yes." I don't think that was the response he was looking for, cause he didn't ask a yes/no question. But, it was the best I could do in that moment.  

 

He rolled me over to my back. He had some 69 in mind, Oh, goody, one of my most favorite things. Oral has always been a regular item on our sexual menu. When we are really in the groove, connecting on all cylinders, we can come simultaneously, which I find incredibly satisfying.

 

Unfortunately, that did not happen this time. No, this time, something distracted me. Something that pulled me so far out of sync, I couldn't get it back.  It wasn't his fault, it wasn't my fault either, other than the fact that, I'm the one with mother hearing.

 

Yep, one of the kids had come home. I heard the bedroom door across the hall. Poof, everything just shut down. I lost it, no wonderful, floaty place, no top of my head blowing off.  Nothing. No orgasm for me.

 

Musicman didn't hear the door and I don't think, even if he had, it would have mattered. He was pretty close to the point of no return by then anyway. At least one of us finished.

 

This so rarely happens to me, that I don't really handle it all that well. It does seem to have become a bit more common since we added D/s to the mix. But, it's also something I have been working very hard on, as it used to plunge me into a days long pit of despair.

 

That no longer happens. I have realized that it is just the build up of energy with no release that is so hard for me to handle.  So, now I just breathe, sometimes shed a tear or two, and then I find something to do to burn off the energy.  Due to the circumstances that caused the problem, the kids being home, I chose not to ask for more from Musicman. I'm sure he would  have obliged, but I just knew I wasn't gonna be able to get it back right then. Instead, I went down stairs and finished making my soup. The base I had set to simmer was ready anyway. Cheddar Bacon Potato, it was yummy.