Sometimes, life gets in the way. The desire is there. The passion is there. But so are the kids. The bills. The housework. The jobs.
And waiting in the corner…staring at me smugly is that ever-growing bastard…the laundry.
So what’s a couple to do with limited time on their hands? This is an age-old question and I bet if you Google it, I am sure you will find several versions of the same Ladies Home Journal article, along with multiple Cosmopolitan articles about how to keep the fires hot. There may be some valuable advice in there about making time…about connecting…about reverse-cowgirling your lover like Seabiscuit till you both win the race.
But let me ask this….what’s a kinky couple to do with limited time on their hands? A couple who pushes limits. A couple who teeters towards edge play. A couple whose marathon scenes have been known to go on for days. How do they find the time to-do-that-thing-they-do?
For M and I, we have always somehow found a way, and the only rule (which is more like an anti-rule) is “anytime, anywhere and any way we can get away with it.”
But a little while back, we were struggling to find a way. It had been a couple of weeks since we’d engaged in anything sexual. I’d been dealing with putting my father on hospice and we’d both been busy getting the kids settled in school. There was little to no time for anything other than kids/parents, bills, meals and everything else that demanded our attention.
But one night lying in bed as I was about to fall into a deep coma from exhaustion, I felt his breath in my ear.
“Assume the position, my little slut.” I could feel his hand clasp my throat and I quickly rose to my knees and faced him. He stroked my hair and face. I was immediately awake and at attention. He pulled me to his lips and kissed me as if it were our first kiss. Long and passionate and purposeful. I could feel his hand between my thighs searching for his perfect spot. Within minutes I was a puddle of a mess. He kissed me again.
And then he said, “Go get a towel.” I am glad thought of that. My M definitely knows best.
For hours we worshipped each other’s bodies. It was a session of pure, uninhibited play. I don’t know when, if ever, I’ve had orgasms like that. They were so fast…one after another…after another…after another. The towel was soaked from his handiwork. We barely came up for air…each of us pleasuring the other. I loved that his hips came off the bed as he plunged himself deeply in my mouth, clutching my long hair in his hands as he unloaded himself down my throat. Neither of us could get enough. It was as if we made up for lost time, many times over.
My journey to subspace was swift and beautiful. I was able to find the peace I so badly needed. I let go of all that was vying for a place in my thoughts, and realized that my only real need is to serve M. If I do this. If I give Him my everything, he will lighten my burden. He will ease my mind.
And he will fuck the ever-living shit out of me at a moment’s notice. DAMN…..
When we finally passed out, sated and exhausted, it was almost 4:00 in the morning. I was up early for work the next day. Rejuvenated. Refreshed.
And reminded…that I am His.