It’s always nice to sneak in an unexpected long weekend. I feel like a kid when I get to play hooky from responsibility and pretend to be retired. We get the chance to go back to bed now and then and it’s often a bit confounding for me because I get so focused on ticking things off my list, I forget about what’s really important.
But today, he whispered “Could we inject and be ready to get to your appointment, too?” How could I not agree when someone thinks I am the best person walking the planet? And, yet, it takes some work to agree, because I feel worried every time. Will the compound work? Is he going to inject too little, too much? Am I going to be facing a lingering erection three hours from now? Will he want two hours of sex since he’s got a two-hour hard on and I only really need about 20 minutes? I feel obliged to play – and frustrated, too.
But I was wrong. It was great. He takes great care of me. I like sex. Why do I make it so complicated?
2 hours – we were “using it” about 70 minutes, and a lot of that was cuddling and snuggling and working up to a passionate kiss. Nice.