Yesterday the twitter boyfriend and I were talking about how he’s not allowed to sleep naked. I said that sounded awful. A way of control that I guess, if I’m honest, I don’t approve of as it seems more judgmental than supportive. But to each his own; your kink does not have to be my kink and all that.
He reminded me that when we started chatting I was still sleeping on the floor and he always thought that was horrible. I sighed.
I miss the floor. A lot.
The toddler brought the dog bed into the kitchen yesterday afternoon and curled up in it while I baked banana bread. All I could think was how comfortable he looked (and adorable, by the way). Sir saw the look on my face and responded with, “some day”. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but I could shake the look. The longing remained.
In the old house we had carpet in the master bedroom; now we have hard wood. I am not even phased. I fold a pile of blankets up every night that our kids throw around the living room wishing I was laying them out on the floor in our room. Letting Sir stretch out for a good sleep while I treasure his approval in allowing me to enjoy the floor.
A hard fuck, a quick suck, and curl up on my mat like the good girl I am.