When he pulls me up off the couch by my collar, clips the leash to it and drags me upstairs. It’s all I can do to keep up when he gets like this. The leash comes off as we enter the bedroom; and I immediately see everything it will be replaced with.
I am covered in lovely red marks, sweat, and a mixture of sexual fluids. He tells me to get cleaned up and leaves the room. I stretch and enjoy my gooey filthiness for just a moment before I get up.
Ok…so…who knows what is wrong with this picture? There are two ‘hints’.
First, he takes me upstairs rather than beating me where he was or where I was sitting.
Second, he leaves the room right away. Rather than cuddling up for a quick nap, he runs out.
It’s children. We are owned by our children.
I suppose all parents are. Our sex lives are ruled by them. When. Where. How fast.
Fast is usually the keyword there. Hence the truncated scene where Sir skips out and leaves my beautiful gooey pussy all cold and alone. It’s all about speed as you never know when you will hear a, “MOM” from the other room. Which, not only means that you have to finish your sexy rendezvous, but you probably also have a mess waiting for you to clean up. Even in the evening when you think they’re asleep, you never know when the baby will cry or the toddler will demand a drink of water. Hearing that call from the other room when you have a cock half-way down your throat is pretty halting. And I’m sure Sir doesn’t enjoy that method of edging.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. They are adorable and find endless ways to make me smile. Sir got our 18 month-old head banging last night and I thought I was going to die. And our 4 year-old was asking for milk with lunch yesterday:
Sir: Ask nicely.
4yo: *mumbling* Can I have some milk please?
Sir: Ok, Now say it with confidence, and
4yo: With confidence!
Sir: And…you win.
It’s the balance of accepting the good with the difficult. And sometimes having quickies in the afternoon is worth it for the hilarious crap that comes out of their mouths.