Sorry there was no new post yesterday…it was a crayzee day for your intrepid business
slut woman. I run a very physical business (despite being round!) and had *three* clients. I’m always psyched when I get these jobs, even the one-off ones. But boys howdee am I one tired slut.
Friday night Master took note of how tired I was and declined to let me have an O despite it being nearly a week since my last one. Despite my pleading that I really, terribly needed one. After all, I had skipped my Tuesday O (I was tired then too). As part of His morning greeting to me, He declared Saturday night to be “O-less” as well. And it occurs to me (now) that He knew He was going to say “no” even before I got all tired and stuff.
How annoying that He’s almost always right.
Then I remember. Today is Sunday. He hasn’t said NO yet. Of course, He hasn’t said “YES” yet, either…but…
But but but.
There is *ice cream* in my future. This very evening, I’ll drive down to where-He-lives and we’ll meet at this sweet little farmstand and we’ll choose our flavors, and while we lick and slurp our nummy yummy treats, we’ll go and stare at the cows in the field–aaaaand –when we start to shiver, we’ll go into one of our cars…
(best run on sentence, ever, and not done yet!)
and who *knows* what naughty things may transpire under cover of darkness. There aren’t a lot of people who hang out at the ice cream stand in October when it gets dark at 620 p.m. Only a couple of old farts who sit in an old minivan and giggle. Okay, only the redhead giggles. The upstanding older gentleman who purchased the ice cream likely sits there, tolerant of his younger companions antics.
If only they knew what really happens inside that vehicle. Pinches and tickles and bruises. Hair pulling and nipple tweeking. Kissing. Slapping. Orgasms.
Yuppers, (nods) that’s what I’m heading down there for. Ice Cream.
That’s my story. I’m stickin’ to it.