Warning: Cussing and Fussing Ahead
So, let’s review the pre-Mr. D visit list:
Schedule cleared? Check.
Hair washed? Check.
Legs shaved? Check.
Outfit (and panties) chosen? Check.
Apartment tidied? Check.
Anticipation/excitement built to the point that I can feel my blood thrumming in my veins? Check.
Mr. D? Can’t make it.
It’s not his fault. It couldn’t be helped. This afternoon, there is a family memorial for his mom, and it’s right here in the Valley. He was going to come straight over after that. It was going to be a nice long visit, dinner and everything. We were both looking forward to it. But then his sister, who is from out of state, asked him if she could go home with him after the gathering and stay the night, and then would he please take her to the airport in the morning?
What’s he supposed to say? “Sorry, sis, I have a date with my spanking partner”? Right. Not in the real world.
Yes, I know this is what’s known as a First World Problem. Don’t tell me I’m whining; I know I’m whining. But goddammit, I was really, really geared up for this visit, this session.
Fellow bottoms: You know what it’s like to be really looking forward to a spanking session with a beloved top, only to have it yanked away at the last minute. For those of you who don’t know how it feels, I’ll endeavor to explain.
It feels kinda like this:
It feels like craving your favorite treat so much, you get in your car and drive to the bakery, all the while anticipating your treat. By the time you get there, you want it so badly, you can practically taste it. And then you find out it’s sold out.
I’m not a man, but I would imagine it kinda feels like that condition guys get (or they say they get) when they were expecting sex and then don’t get it. Perhaps the spanko equivalent to blue balls is white butt.
It’s like the olden days before TiVo and Hulu and everything on TV being available everywhere, when you used to look forward every week to your favorite program. The time would finally come, you’d sit down in front of the TV all excited… only to hear “Tonight’s episode of blah blah blah will not be seen tonight, so we can bring you…” NOOOOOOO!
It’s like planning a weekend getaway, down to the last detail, eagerly anticipating how much fun you’re going to have and all the cool things you’re going to do. The car is finally packed, you do a last-minute check of everything and then you jump behind the wheel — and the car doesn’t start.
It makes you want to scream, “Fuck life! Fuck reality! I don’t care! I want what I want NOW!” And of course, you can’t. Because you’re a Grown Up, not a child. Because you have to be mature and reasonable.
Oh, fuck that, too.
Yeah, yeah, I know. There’s always next week. (sigh) The day will go on; I’ll fill it with something else. But you can’t blame a girl for cussing a bit and shedding a disappointed tear.
OK, maybe a few tears. GodDAMMIT. 😦