More Digression. Because,why not?

When the digression is this good…

Yeah I feel like my life is back on the rails. It was a it bumpy for a little bit there. Real life can be a bitch, and I am not immune to letting myself wallow in a bit of the doldrums. And then with my back hurt this past week…

Steroids are MIRACLE DRUGS. But apparently not a thing I am allowed to take for long. Curious if the pain-abatement properties will continue for long after I am done with this round. In any case, I feel like I’ve been given my life back, and I am BOUNCING. Huh, kind of like when The Hypnotist took the pain in my back away during an eight-mile hike. A lot like that, in fact.

So yeah, Kevin stayed over Thursday night. He and Adam had gone to bowling league, but he came back to my house to stay over. How cool is that? I don’t even have to be out with him, and he comes home to me. I don’t know—let me have my moment of *sqwee*, of wow this is really my life, of remembering the life I dreamed of though I thought no one could find it twice in one lifetime and was afraid to put my desire out there into the universe. But I did, and it did, and here I am: grateful, humbled, loved and loving.

Also, a salacious and rapacious little cockwhore for my man.

We have this joke: Bowl a 200 and my pussy gets wet; bowl a 200 and I want your cock in my mouth. We’ve (he’s) teased about the “200 club” and who in the bowling alley I would have to suck off on a given night. Heh.

He hadn’t even gotten undressed before I was pushing him back against the pillows, pulling at his jeans. Really, I just want his cock anytime, and it had been a little while. Spoiler alert: I hadn’t gotten my cowboy in my mouth after our ride (lots of other good stuff happened) but not that, and I was overdue. Also, 5 strikes in a row?!? So yeah, lay back down there Mr. Bowling Man…

The next morning we got up so he could get a shower and go to work. I usually don’t shower in the AM with him because either I’ve gone to the gym and gotten back too late, or I want to sleep in just that 20 minutes more. I wake up at the end in time to do one of my favorite “jobs”: brushing his long, wet, curly hair. This week though, with my back hurting, I haven’t been to the gym. I have had the 4am insomnia though, so since I was awake anyway, and washing him is one of those things that trip all my happy subbie triggers, I joined him in the shower.

He let me shave my legs, and soap him up, and put conditioner in my hair, and I had just opened my bergamot sugar scrub and scooped out a handful. “What are you going to do with that?” he asked.

“Moisturize my legs,” I said.

“You go ahead and do that,” he said, giving me a nudge toward the bench seat in the shower. “Sit right there. Because you know what we haven’t done in awhile.”

I’m pretty sure my face lit up like a Christmas tree. I sat back as he grasped his cock, inches from my face. And while he worked himself, I rubbed the oil and sugar scrub over my body, my thighs, my belly…

“Please? May I touch?” I’m pretty certain crunchy sugar oil wasn’t something he’d like on his cock, but I had to ask.

“No touching,” he said. And worked himself harder. I might have whined a little, but I obeyed. For a few minutes.

“Just with my tongue,” I said, leaning forward, mouth open, wanting, greedy.


I gave in, and applied myself to the pleasure of stroking my legs in long caresses with the oil. I drew each hand up the insides of my thighs, my breath hitching a little as my fingertips grazed my pubis, skating fleetingly over my labia, leaving a slick of oil there. I didn’t even have to ask if I could touch there to know the answer would be “no.”

I snuck a peek up at his face (it was hard to pull my attention away from his hand, grasping and tugging on his cock.) His eyes were closed, lips parted, head thrown slightly back. I wanted to stand up and press my lips to his throat, to slide my oil-slick body against him…

I settled myself back and spread my legs, inviting him with my pose to look, to see the center of me.

The water beat down and I heard the rapid intake of his breath. He was getting close. My hands reached up and I started cupping and rubbing my breasts, which felt both heavy and turgid in my palms. The nipples ached for pinching, and I complied, pulling at them almost in the rhythm of his hand on his cock.

My breathing was ragged now as well.

And then he leaned forward, panting slightly. I smooshed my breasts together with both hands, offering them up, rubbing the oily skin rhythmically as he started to pump his jizz onto my chest.

And it was glorious, a perfect little reset into our slutty, sexy, dirty selves again.

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