Wednesday, April 23, 2014

One for the jury



As He was off sick there was a lift to work and a lift home. It was such a treat to get home at 5.30 rather than nearly 7 pm. It was a fact that was celebrated with an illicit cup of coffee ('cos there was enough time before bed), a good steak dinner and an awesome workout at the gym. Of course all of this came at a price.

Round here there is no such thing as a free ride...

But... there is always a but... He went to bed shortly after one got home from the gym and fell asleep. It was a deep sleep; one that didn't register the shower, feeding the cat, coming to bed, putting on the TV for a while, grooming rituals... it was a deeep sleep. In fact He only woke up towards the end, just as one was turning out the light, because he needed to use the bathroom.

Now being the sort who likes clarification one did enquire if His falling asleep negated the contract. After all one of us had been willing and able... soreness hadn't set in yet you see.
No, was the reply. I offered earlier...
Don't think that should count as He was still driving the car
... and I was...
The voice trailed off into gentle snoring
Leaving one of us wide awake and ready for anything

Now personally one thinks that should negate the contract. There was no mention of rainchecks or clauses for non-completion.
Mutters mind you one wouldn't mind a lift tomorrow...
Sighs this is not an even playing field at all :(

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

If you can't say something nice...



Then shut the fuck up.
The trick though, is to do that before your mouth opens...
Sighs this was not a good day

Monday, April 21, 2014

Why you don't turn for the worse...



On a public holiday
The doctors firmly closed their doors at noon. He got sicker and sicker after that point. That was why we spent the afternoon and evening at the local A&E.
A place that still has this poster on the wall, that some of you may recognise from the profile on Fet...


With an empty bourbon and cola can next to the bench that is outside the window overlooking that poster. Ah our local A&E, never a dull humourless moment. 

The bottom line of all this quality time spent on uncomfortable chairs... oh wait that was one of us, the other one was stretched out on a bed... it's a virus. A very long running virus that seems to have attacked the stomach lining, which is why there is nausea and continual, uncontrollable gas being produced. The upshot is; take antacids, paracetamol for the headache and fever, drink fluids and stay in bed.  There's nothing else He can do...
They're wrong.

He can complain...
A lot
And He wants stuff...
Continually... like all the time.

Mind you seeing Him in plastic bracelets and hooked up to machines unable to go to the bathroom at will...
Let's just say it wasn't all bad :D

Sunday, April 20, 2014

On the mend or faking it like a pro...



You decide

He spent the day being annoying. Really, really annoying. Annoying enough to make one just want to scream and hit Him. Seriously one does get the no hitting rule, but there should be exclusions...
Mutters and scribbles that on the growing list of things that should have been added to the negotiation list, if only one had known.

The nipples are still trying to not talk to Him after yesterday, so he spent every waking minute (of which there seemed to be an inordinate amount) making passes at them. There were soft tickles, little kisses, gentle tweaks... you name it, and He did it. The problem is that after yesterday they are hand shy. The instinctive thing is to move the hell away from that hand, fast.

Of course you can only go so far when you wear a collar. That long reach would culminate in Him slipping his hand under the collar... the damn thing is getting way too big and making that manoeuvre too easy... with the words mine uttered. Then He would spend time tickling the end of the nose with one of those stupidly long fingers of his until one did scream; invectives mainly. And back to the nipple annoyance He would go.

Why did He have so much time on his hands you may be wondering? Well He was still too sick to tackle the damn book cases. The minute He found out that his "sight the area and think that it would fit" approach hadn't worked, he relapsed. Now in fairness He wasn't well still, but he got way worse when he found out that the only way to make the damn things fit was to move all the bookcases around. That of course means taking out all of the books.

To be honest one small slave had been feeling fine until realising that small issue. There are a lot of books. The worse thing is that the new shelves are only about three inches too long for the site. Normally you would just slap them in and dodge; unfortunately His father is not quite the dodger these days. He's more likely to careen into them and pull them over. So moving books is tomorrow's agenda, if He is well enough...

Sighs if He is smart he may never recover...

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Worse for wear



Today one woke up, the birds were singing, the sun was shining and the only pain was the self inflicted kind from the gym yesterday. In sharp contrast He came home looking more than a little worse for wear. Of course there were plans for today; a quick grocery shop before everything closes back down for Easter.... Happy Easter by the way... and assembling all those blasted shelves for His vast (and still expanding) game collection. Taking one look at His grey tinged face, we made a quick run to the shops for supplies before he collapsed and one gave up any hope of reclaiming part of our tiny domicile.

Instead we ate a naughty breakfast that featured real bacon, the streaky kind that oozes fat as it fries... shudders with pleasure at the very thought... and moving Him back to the horizontal embrace of the bed. He rallied long enough to engage in some aggressive sexcapades... it's amazing how he can always rally for sex... before dying for the rest of the morning. It left one to do a little laundry, catch some sun, have some lunch and read a book. It was all very peaceful.

So peaceful in fact that one slid into the bedroom for a snooze, only to find the patient awake. A state that He managed to handle for long enough to try and remove both nipples... for some reason his fevered hearing interpreted the plaintive mewling cries as please Sir, more Sir. OK there was a hell of an orgasm and one did pass out for a deep post coital snooze, but damn it, the nipples are not speaking to either of us.

He rallied in the evening long enough to call in sick and try to make one a better offer than going to the gym. Damn it! There is nothing worse than being caught between two endorphin sources. In the end the guilt over the illicit bacon butties won out. But only because there had been extra carbs ingested to get through the heavy leg work and tomorrows run. OK the nipples might have put in an avoidance vote, but that was just fear talking... the body dismissed that one out of hand.

So there we are. One still sick, no shelves, our tiny domicile starting to look like one of those places that hoarders live in... you know the kind, walkways made between towering stacks of games... but both of us mildly sexually sated.
Meh who needs living space so long as you can still get to the bed
Whisper one small slave does... those games have got to go