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.
This won’t be a sexy, metaphorically-laden clever post. Folks, this is where the sh*t gets real.
We are approaching 4 months since M’s arrival. For the number people (I happen to be one) That’s 120 days. That’s 2880 hours. That’s one third of a year.
And the veneer has worn off.
Yes, we have farted in front of each other. He has seen me at my best and my worst. He sees the in between. He sees through my bullshit. And occasionally, I feel a tinge of panic…because there’s nowhere for me to hide. He will reveal me
. He has seen me swell with pride as my oldest graduated from high school, with honors. He was there when my 7 year old had his art show. And my 2 year old runs to him first when we both arrive at daycare to pick her up. I am His. He is mine. And the kids are morphing into ours. We are a family. A happy family.
He is here when I fall apart…I lost my job of 6 years due to a major shift in budget. He was here to help pick me up, reassuring me that all would work out. Reminding me that we will be fine.
He is by my side as I watch my father’s health deteriorate. We put him on hospice this week. It was one of the hardest things I’ve had to face. And I am not alone in the journey…he is here. Leading me as my protector.
And in the midst of this chaos, he is my strength. He helps me unpack the years of baggage I carry with me. My burden is lighter because he works me through my issues. (I sometimes feel like he needs to bill me for a copay)
This is the beauty of a strong relationship. This is the epitome of D/s. It’s not the kink. It’s not the scenes. (Those are wonderful and have their purpose.) But this where we go deeper. This is where I give all to my M and he gives me sanctuary. This is where we grow. We have a long way to go, but I will say that we walk the road together. And when I want to run and hide…when I want to forge ahead, or lag behind….he reminds me of who I am.
I am HIS… I belong to Him, and He’s got this.
(Quotes from Pinterest)
Lately, I guess I have been in a bubble. With so much fun going on at home, I haven’t really kept up with current events, or even local news.
So I just missed this one…
While shopping at Target yesterday (honestly readers, you would think I live there) I noticed a large display of books near the check-out. It was the new E L James’ book, “Grey”. It was brazenly on display, right where they place the “impulse items”. I snickered to myself and thought, how appropriate. Next to the guilty pleasures of candy bars, expensive Chapstick and individual Frappucino bottles, lurked the latest tome on the man himself, Christian Grey.
So this is a book written exclusively from Christian’s perspective. In his words. A work to further explore his sadistic mind. His quirky ways. His brooding intensity. I pondered purchasing it. But instead, I impulsively picked up the EOS Chapstick and a Frappucino, and made my way out of the store.
Driving away, I started thinking about the name “Grey”. I started thinking about the connotation behind it. I began to reflect on other movies who had a brooding leading man with the same surname. And it was distracting, so I pulled over, reapplied my Chapstick and finished up the Mocha.
One of my favorite independent films is 2002’s Secretary. Maggie Gyllenhaal played the role perfectly and the movie jump-started her career. And then there was James Spader….whew. His character was none other than, Mr. E. Edward Grey, an OCD attorney who plowed through secretaries faster than a Kardashian changes shoes. To me, he is who I think of when I hear the title, “Mr. Grey”. Since he was her boss, she always called him Mr. Grey, especially when he fashioned his angry red Sharpie to her work and bent her over his desk. Love that movie. It was so quirky and bizarre, but nonetheless, brilliant. And a happy ending.
If you take it back a bit further, you will find the character of John Gray, from 1986’s Nine 1/2 weeks. Back then, Mickey Rourke was the bad boy the good girls loved. And boy was he bad in the movie. Dark and mysteriously charming he seduced Kim Basinger and made her a wanton wreck of a woman in the end. A not so happy ending…and a terrible sequel, too.
And of course, there is the now infamous, Christian Grey. The ultra-successful billionaire who wears his jeans off his hips, likes his women submissive, his dungeons red and his ropes tight.
All of these similarly surnamed characters made me think…what is it about the name “Grey/Gray” that aligns with the aura of dominant mystique? The word literally means, the “color intermediately between black and white” (no surprise there) So is it because all of these characters embrace both the light and dark sides of their psyche? Is it because they are the balance of both good and bad? They have in some way mastered the place in the middle where those lines are skewed? Possibly? Thoughts?
But grey/gray also means “dull and nondescript without interest or character” and I wonder if that definition is a direct reference to the new book? HA! Just kidding!
Don’t fool yourself…I am sure I will pick it up on my next venture to Target…after all this pensive thought I need to go back, I am almost out of Chapstick.
Today is the DAY! M is in route and in less than seven hours..he will be here. The kids are beyond excited and I have been “nesting” all week to get things ready for his arrival. (Special thanks to those who helped me get it all together, Lou and PBR, thanks ladies…your help and support made all the difference!)
Sometimes, there is a song that just fits the occasion, perfectly. Leave it to John Lennon to have the right words.
It’s time to spread our wing’s and fly,
Don’t let another day go by my love,
It’ll be just like starting over – starting over,
Save travels, M. We are all ready for you to come home.
This week has been incredibly stressful for me. Maestro has also had a challenging week. Lucky for us both, he is visiting this weekend. I do hope he sees fit to push my limits and further my enlightenment. I hope he rummages through our bag of delights and finds the perfect implement to use on me, as he uses me. He says, “You know I don’t take requests.” And trust me, I do know this.
My reply was, “Yes, but I do know you will TAKE what is Yours.”
I hope the weekend is full of dark and dastardly deeds, because this week has been nothing short of pure Madness….