A few days ago, the seemingly omni-present no sex embargo was masterfully broken as we christened the bed. Twice. It felt good to have his cock inside me again. You know that feeling when you’ve just had sex and he’s pulled out and it’s like you’re missing a vital part of yourself? That, but extended over a very long and exhausting week (or two, I can’t remember).
It was good to have a weekend of no writing and no Twitter too. I felt incredibly terrible at the start because it just all felt wrong. I hadn’t so much as had a giggle in an entire week, and I felt like I was going mad. Again, leave it to ILB to get me out of that funk.
The sex was brilliant. It started with me coming back from the bathroom to find him sprawled on the bed with his pants down, pointing at his erection. There was no sound, apart from my vagina going YIPPEE.
Undressed, we got into bed and fondled. Fondling’s nice. I nearly forgot it existed until we did it.
“I think you know what I want to do to you.” he whispered.
I did know. I wanted him to do it to me. I wanted him to take me until there was nothing but fuzz in my brain.
In a mix of giggles, moans and him whispering “I want more, more, MORE of you!” I felt better again.
Afterwards, he lay in silence, listening to the sirens he found so comforting. I nestled into his nook and drifted off.
He gives me the giggles. Happy giggles in my belly.
D’you know what else gives me giggles?
Random funny things that just seem to happen because the stars align, Mercury briefly stops retrograding and the Gods conspire to give you a bit of a giggle while some place entirely inappropriate.
Like just know in the supermarket when the till read COCK ZERO instead of Coke Zero.
I am five, indeed. Still funny. And you should be thankful because it’s what pulled me out of my state of pause to come and write about this all.