Steve and I missed two Mondays. Two weeks ago, he had scheduling conflicts, so we skipped. Besides, the A/C was broken and it was hot as hell in here. Then last Monday, he called me first thing in the morning with an almost unrecognizable voice; he said he had white spots on his throat. That is a sure sign of a bacterial infection, which was verified by his doctor later that morning. Ack. Yes, by mid-last week, I was a basket case, missing him. And the damned heat didn’t help.
But then the A/C finally got fixed, and Steve got well. And this Monday came, at last. 🙂
I was kind of bad on the 4th of July. I hadn’t seen him that past Monday, and while he was busy with a family barbecue, I was stuck home in the heat with a lot of work to do. I could have gone to John’s, I guess, but he was doing family stuff that day as well — going to see his mother, then his niece and her new baby. No, thanks! Besides, I did have a ton of work.
But by midday, I was restless. I couldn’t focus on my work, I felt isolated, I felt cranky. Sooooo… I decided to relieve some tension. 😉
When I was finished, I had a naughty impulse. I went to the computer and typed up an email to Steve: “Here’s something for you to ponder while you’re barbecuing your bratwurst — I just got myself off.” And hit Send.
Why? I felt like it. I enjoyed the idea of his squirming over that image while hanging out with his family. Yes, I’m bad. But come on, it’s not like I sent him a picture of me doing it! (that’s not sarcasm; I really didn’t)
So, um, we addressed that behavior this evening. He claimed he liked it. “OK, so what are you complaining about, then?” I protested. “Because I also enjoy delivering the consequences, even though I liked it.” So not fair.
He was whacking me so hard with wood and that damned Lexan, I couldn’t keep still and kept flailing and rearing up. “Top says bottom stay still,” he scolded, pushing me back down gently. “Bottom says fuck off,” I grumbled.
I was then ordered to repeat that. Hey, it was an order. I obeyed it and got nothing but pain for my efforts.
So good to have him back. 🙂
Later, just before he left, I confessed that I seem to have developed a fascination with “thigh turkeys” (hand prints). I keep seeing really crisp and clear ones on FetLife photos, and while I don’t like having my legs or thighs struck over and over, there’s something so amazingly intense about that single hard slap. It hurts like crazy, but I can muscle through that, knowing it’s already over. And I love watching the hand print bloom.
And so I initiated Steve into the thigh turkey world. He tried first with my right thigh and got a reasonably decent print. But then he really gave it his all with my left thigh.
Never fear, kiddies. I was a very happy girl, after I stopped feeling like someone had set my thighs on fire.
Yes, I’m so ladylike. Panties are from Target, by the way. I’m not big on spending a fortune for underwear.
I’m sore and tired, and blissfully relaxed. It’s cool in here and I do believe I’m going to sleep like the dead.
Welcome back, my top.