Have you noticed, that sometimes you want to write about something, but it is quite difficult to get started?
This is me having a muse not a moan. Trying to examine thoughts that are
It seems to have been another stressful week in the Starsong household, one way or another, yet once again Dan has shown me a shade of himself I hadn't anticipated.
- My MIL was very unwell at the beginning of the week, and although my SIL calls in every day (she lives in the same village and goes past her door all the time) and I also called around taking food, she has decided to arrange a regular delivery of a 'main meal' - on a daily basis. They are very good meals, inexpensive and interesting. Definitely not tasteless or watery and much more pleasant than 'meals on wheels'. But she is sad that she feels she cannot manage to cook every day for herself any more. She feels it is a little more of her independence she is giving up.
This is a woman of 87, who gallops about looking after other 'old' people in the village; is a mainstay of the Church; lives independently in her own little bungalow which is spotless and beautifully decorated; who drives her own little silver car (a bit too fast in our opinion!) all over the place; who has a 'boyfriend' of 94; need I go on?
She is the best MIL I could possibly want. I am so lucky to have had her, and have known her longer than my own mother. She is the sort of person you can talk to about anything - and I mean anything!
She had a coffee morning to raise money for Hospice care in your own home (MacMillan nurses) on Friday morning, and raised over £400. Over the last ten years she has raised in excess of £7,000 with these annual coffee mornings. She started having them when my FIL died of prostate cancer. Fortunately, after I had let everyone know that she wasn't feeling very good, lots of ladies turned up and did everything for her this year, so she just sat in state in her living room, and welcomed everyone and chatted.
However, we do worry about her, and realise she cannot continue living at 100 mph and that she now needs to slow down to at least 80 mph.
- Our work on our house continues at a snail's pace, although that's probably just my way of looking at it. We are both very stressed by the fact that workmen who you have booked in to do certain jobs, don't bother to turn up when they say they will, and then don't even have the courtesy to phone you to explain why. Timber for a building project which you thought had been ordered a couple of months ago was suddenly only ordered a week ago and hence the project slides to a complete halt. Repair work suddenly costs double what was estimated. Workmen having quoted you a 'day rate' decide to take twice as long as a sloth to complete a job.
- The conveyancing lawyers are suddenly finding all sorts of little queries in the searches they are making on the house we are attempting to buy in a neighbouring village, and the people who at present live in that house, are having similar problems with a house they are buying elsewhere; this means it is now taking twice as long as we expected it would to exchange contracts and complete the purchase.
- Dan has had a monitoring PSA test and is now worrying his socks off because the results were higher than he had anticipated (although the hospital warned him that this could be the case, as he only had one side operated on) and he is worried the cancers are growing, despite lots or reassurance to the contrary.
- Our grandbaby was ill over last weekend and at the beginning of the week, with what apparently is called "hand, foot and mouth" and is a common illness amongst small children and particularly children who attend nursery. Our daughter then caught it and was in bed three days, she was so ill. Luckily, they both seem much better now, thank goodness.
All these pressures have led me to yet another bad week attitude-wise. I just can't seem to keep a check on my mouth these days. Everything irritates.
Every single day we've had workmen in, often by 8am. I'm getting to the point where I am sick and tired of all the intrusion into our lives, despite knowing that all this work needs doing, as of yesterday, in fact as of last month! But when you have no privacy because they are working on repairing window-frames and doors and seem to be just everywhere it does have a bit of a negative effect.
Finally, Saturday morning we knew no-one was coming before 9am at the earliest. I had been awake since 6am and I eventually got up around 7.10 and went and brought hot drinks back to bed. Dan surfaced from the world of dreams where he'd snored his head off all night, spoken out loud several times, and even thrown one leg out which landed over mine and woke me up in a complete panic. I was not in the best of moods, just because I still felt tired.
I sat propped up against the headboard and drank my coffee while he was trying to wake up, and then scooted back down and lay curled on my right side away from him and closed my eyes trying to nap. Dan had other ideas. He chatted amiably enough about the day ahead, even throwing in the odd caress to my left rump.
"Are you pouting again?" he asked me. (I thought this was an American expression.)
"No. I'm just trying to get back to sleep. You snored so loudly I nearly went to the spare room."
"Oh. I'm sorry about that. I expect you snored too. You were certainly snoring around 5 this morning."
"I probably was. Until your leg landed on top of me and gave me heart failure."
I admit I was just a tad 'snarly'.
It was the type of 'hmmm' Dan makes before leaning all over me. See - I'm snarly just thinking about it.
Me: Gasp! Eyes wide open! Rapid intake of breath!
"Go and get the Little Nipper. You need a good spanking."
Me: Slide slowly out of bed, snarl my way across the bedroom. Narrow eyes, feel in the drawer rather hesitatingly.
"We're doing something different this morning."
Me: Senses now on high alert. Difficulty breathing. Hackles begin to rise. Return to bed,
hand Dan the spatula.
"Hand me the lube."
Me: WHAT!!!!!!!! Sudden intense reluctance. Hand Dan the lube. Get back in bed.
"On you hands and knees. Put your elbows down on the bed."
Me: Thinks, but dares not say, "What the F!!!" Gets down on hands and knees and puts hands under the pillow followed by face in the pillow. Feels lube being liberally spread from front to rear and all over cheeks. Thinks, but dares not say, "What the F is going on here!!!"
Then Dan is homing in on a very sensitive part of my anatomy and causing me to writhe and moan. My body is reacting like dry ground to rain after a lengthy drought. Lots of excited jerks and loud gasps.
"THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! (Repeat around ten times each side.)
Me: OW! OW! OW! (rising in volume as I try to get up and am held firmly down).
"You're hitting too high! Shriek!"
"No, I'm not. THWACK!"
Then Dan goes back to making me writhe and moan.
He repeats this scenario several times while explaining how unhappy he is with my snarky attitude all week.
"Remember THWACK I warned you THWACK what would happen if you THWACK continued to pout all the time."
Somewhere along the fifth repeat I suddenly think to myself "But he's never read 50 Shades, let alone a single blog, let alone any of my Blushing Books, let alone any other instructions on how to torture your wife!"
My body can't make up its mind whether to orgasm or try for sub space (which I haven't a clue about). Drat and blast the man - where the F did this all come from?! (Good job I'm only thinking these F words!)
Then OMG!!! Dan inserts a finger where I was least expecting it. And continues to spank hard.
I can't believe what he is doing.
I am trying to wriggle away when another finger joins the party.
I stop breathing completely, squeak, and collapse on the bed.
The spanks continue and the fingers are now moving in and out.
I am eternally grateful my pillow is thick, I am really not sure about all this or where it might be leading. (I always fought against it and it was never very successful in the past.)
But suddenly Dan removes his fingers, takes the spatula in that hand, and keeping up his spanking momentum he now uses the hand that was holding the spatula to stroke and tweak me elsewhere. I can feel the waves approaching and they crash over my head like a tsuami and I am even more thankful for my pillow because it dampens the volume a few notches.
Dan is now behind me, returning me to my knees and determined to keep my momentum going the best way he knows. The waves keep coming.
Afterwards all I can do is lie face down and gasp.
Who is this man? He can't possibly be my husband, can he?
My eyes follow him. I am not only sated beyond imagination,
but I feel more submissive than I have ever felt. And that's saying something! Remember? I am not a submissive type of a person! At least I didn't think I was.
How do I feel?
I feel a bit sore to tell the truth. But I feel so comfortable and relaxed. I feel as if I have climbed a huge slope and then slid all the way down at light speed on a tea-tray. My body is still making little aftershock jerks.
Dan looks exceptionally pleased with himself.
"You liked it didn't you?"
Still lying on my stomach I nod, very cautiously, and he grins in a superior manner.
"I can almost feel the heat." Yes, I think, so can I.
"I like that Little Nipper. Certainly does the job. What about breakfast. Is there bacon?"
He strides away along the corridor and I gingerly roll over and sit up.
What just happened?!