Miscommunication

The day started with a sore neck and a sinus headache... and finished up with migraine. In between was filled with petty aggravations in the form of people. In short it was a vile day that was capped off with a bus trip home from hell. Getting through the door, the migraine medications and one small slave made a bee line for the couch.

It was a line that involved gathering snacks and procuring a list of the intended order of play for Bab5 and its movies. See this is the stuff of geeky dreams... interspersing episodes, in the order the creator intended them to be played rather than the way the networks showed  them, with the movies. Last year's annual playing of Bab5 was interrupted by lending them to our Tuesday night vanillas. Who hated it might one add... and one lost serious respect points for them in response. How could you... let's not go there shall we?

Anyway just as one was really settling in the glass door slid open to reveal His looming form. He had got up for date night... which is a euphemism for sex... something one had completely forgotten about with the migraine. Really we need a better system for date night... six times out of ten one of us is feeling like shit and the other one has no way of knowing, but one digresses. Instead He curled up on the couch munching breakfast while one tottered around making his lunch.

Returning to join Him one whined about the stiff neck. The body still hasn't adjusted to the collar and is sleeping on it the wrong way. He smiled... which one pointed out was not the correct response at all. So feeling stiff and sore and sick... that is the defence... one asked if He would massage it in the shower. He actually has very talented fingers. The trouble is just as it is feeling good He loses all interest and stops.

Peering over His breakfast, eyes gleaming brightly, he says sure. But there is a price. There always is, but one was happy to pay it... or so one thought. Now this was how one ended up being mashed into the tiles as He drove repeatedly into one's arse with hard thrusting strokes. That is not what this is about...

This is about the fact that the arse fucking lasted way longer than the massage.

It hardly seems fair L