The thing about being married (maybe not even married, but a long term relationship), sometimes we schedule sex. I'm not talking like 9:45 every Tuesday or something, but sometimes we just make sure we are on the same page. Life is busy, we're always running somewhere and sometimes our needs are not lined up with our time allotment.
So this weekend we scheduled some sexy time, it is not uncommon around these parts, and I don't feel like it's a bad thing, what's so wrong about being on the same schedule?
The thing is, yes, I was horny. But I will share a secret with all of you, I masturbate a lot. I mean, I guess it's subjective what "a lot" is, but in speaking with friends (even my online kinky friends) it may be more than the average person. I would call it a hazard of the trade— writing sexy things and reading sexy things, but I have always been this way.
Once we moved in together and I was having sex on the regular, you know, we were no longer sneaking around catching stolen moments— I realized masturbating became a lot less fulfilling. I told Mr. McKay he ruined me. Jokingly of course, because really, I could still achieve orgasm on my own, it just seemed very... blah.
Maybe it's the predictability. I know exactly what to do and how to do it, so I just do it, there is no anticipation, no guessing or excitement.
Needless to say, I much prefer the release I get when I orgasm with my husband. It is nice to have someone to hold you afterwards. Give you a cuddle. Tell you you're pretty. Or that he likes your tits (hey, it always gets me to smile).
But I have been starting to wonder if the reason why sometimes my masturbatory orgasms seem unfulfilling is because I am not really just wanting an orgasm. I am craving something else. Sometimes I think I just need to be spanked and my brain mis-fires and thinks I am horny.
It's a frustrating realization. And one you cannot fix on your own.
But in came the scheduled sexy time. We were planning on some spontaneous sex (yes, you read that right, and sure, it is such a thing— a planned spontaneous affair), but then we put it off too long and both got sleepy. Apparently that happens when you're old. So we both decided tomorrow, tomorrow is our night! First things first, before dinner, before drinks, before we can get full or sleepy or disinterested.
So we did, we got to it! Mr. McKay always takes care of me first, so I came and with gusto. It was dark in the room, which disappointed me a little because how could he see to spank me? He still did, sharp smacks as I straddled him. We were kissing and fondling, there were fingers and tongues and moans in the darkness. All the while he was smacking me. A smattering of smacks. It was a nice sting, but then things progressed, we moved onto the main event. There were fingers in places and double penetration and I am not sorry to say I had a mind numbing orgasm.
We lay in the dark, my head on his chest. Light touches and giggles. Someone's stomach growls (maybe mine, but I will not admit to anything) and Mr. McKay tells me he will cooks us some dinner. But the thing is. I am not done. And I start to feel guilty, but I am not as sated and relieved as I should be. And why aren't I? Something is wrong with me, right?
Will he think I am a needy annoyance? Will he sigh and begrudgingly comply with my demands? I don't want that. I don't want to need this. But the thing is I had been building up the spanking in my head. I was worked up for it. I was ready. And then it was... lacking. It was still there and I should be happy for that, right?
So there in the dark I utter, "I just..." and then my nerve is lost. Why did I start? Ugh, I want the floor to swallow me.
"You just, what?" he asks.
"Nothing, nothing, nevermind."
I guess when you start something and then stop and admit you are scared to say, you freak out your partner a bit. So now I feel guilty that he thinks I was going to confess some sort of life altering confession. It should be old hat by now. I need to be spanked.
"Well, the things is. I just. Maybe we could... uh, I just wanted more. Spanking. You know?"
"Okay," he laughs. "Is that all?" The lights flip on. "You scared me. But this? This I can handle." He motions me to the end of the bed and picks up the cane leaning against the wall.
"Oh, we're using that?"
"Yeah we are. You want something more? I got it!" He smiles at me, and really, how the hell did I get so lucky?
I'm gasping and squirming by the time he is finished. I have neat lines of stripes and don't even feel funny about looking at them in the mirror with him standing there. "I feel better. I needed this," I say.
He smiles again and tells me he's going to make dinner.
Over dinner we talk about the night and he admits that he was worried when I got so nervous when we were upstairs. Why would I be nervous about telling him that? I joke around that maybe he was scared I wanted to try pegging or something. He admits that crossed his mind, and something like that would scare him. But tells me if I felt that strongly about trying it, then he would. For me. Because he loves me.
I am not ashamed to admit I teared up. Some girls get jewelry. I got a man not afraid to dip into the kinky side of life, even if it freaks him out a bit.
For that I am grateful.
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