With much love to Sir- You are my forever Valentine. What fun there is to come!:)
And with thanks to Order of E for the inspiring list in his most recent blogpost- so many goodies, I couldn't pick just one. I knew you'd understand.
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Some empty, discarded objects scream to tell their story.
An uncorked bottle of a heady Cabernet.
The cellophane ripped from a package of lace-topped thigh highs.
An enormous, heart-shaped box of Valentine’s Day chocolates, now devoid of any confections.
Pleasures savored, gasps of delight, pleading-eyed looks, now only the things of memory, brought to mind by the concrete evidence left behind.
But what delicious memories they are!
You want me to bend over what?
The stepladder, Sweetheart.
The one i use to stand on to clean above the cabinents?
Yes, Dear.
And what’s that tool belt contain, Sir?
Some lovely fun for both of us.
Oh i see, now.
Some items from real life bringing me so far beyond it, that my mind is at war with itself.
Do i let my thoughts drift to the mundane, stay in my role of keeper of all things, and work myself into an endless loop of responsibility as i see these things pulled from our daily existence?
Or do i allow Him to lightly, then insistently brush the sensitive soles of my feet, my waist, with the barbecue brush until i am a quivering, giggling, well-tickled mess?
Or shall i offer Him an indelicate, commanded position, ass up high, presented for the gentle, then demanding whacks of a wooden ruler?
Or do i savor every nibble of red, rich licorice after He has wickedly lashed my nipples with the Twizzlers, taken from the emergency candy drawer, never once giving thought to calories?
Take a look at the passionate, crime-scene evidence strewn about the bedroom.
What do you think?
