Movement

I was surprised to find that it was my partner who moved first.

I came home from work to find my partner busily clearing up and washing and sterilising bottles. The thing is, that is my job, something I do later in the evening after dinner, shortly before going to bed. Him sterilising bottles means that there are plans for that part of the evening.

And yes, my partner did have plans - while he appeared to be in the kitchen washing up, what he was actually doing in the kitchen was cooking up some tofu burger.

So, yes, we went to bed. I went almost unwillingly, still plagued by all the emotions of the last few days, my body like lead.

But there was some pretty decent kissing and touching, including kissing of that part of my neck where my shoulder begins, which is practically guaranteed to get me going. Usually, one kiss on the neck and I'm anybody's! Its a trick more men should know about. And it sort of got me going. Probably helped by the fact that he had a massive erection that suggested that tofu burger was not being served cold.

Unfortunately, once he stopped kissing my neck and tried to get down to business, I cooled right down again, which is very unlike me. The fact is that, while I was not exactly still mad, I was still too emotional, too raw. Thoughts were buzzing in my head, and they were not good thoughts.

I was thinking about the past. I was thinking about mercy fucks. I was thinking about tofu, and whether it was actually really any different to a mercy fuck. A sort of cousin to the mercy fuck, but just a little prettier.

I stopped him, and admitted I just couldn't keep going, that I was still brooding over the other night and couldn't stop thinking. He was disappointed. But he said "Then we'll try again tomorrow night". I asked him what if that didn't work. He said, "Then we'll try again the following night". Okay, so I was a little bit impressed by his dedication.

And I saw something more clearly. I saw how much he was trying to please me.

I saw that the reason doing things like this is not a mercy fuck is because there is no lord of the manor here and no beggar. There is no manor. There is no table of plenty before which anyone could beg.

What we have here is more like two people in a bombed out building - bombed out by illness, by infertility issues, and mostly by war. Devastated. There should be nothing left. But there are two people left. Not beggars exactly, but two survivors, their clothes blackened and tattered and their faces pale and shell-shocked, but alive all the same. And one of them says to the other, "I know there isn't much food around here, but I do have this piece of bread. Its not much, but we could share it". And they do share it. And it keeps them going until better times.

And I asked my partner if oral sex could be part of things. You see, the thing is, I lurve oral sex, and so does my partner. I love to give that pleasure and I love to receive it. There are few pleasures more exquisite than those supplied by a willing tongue. We are both orally fixated. Obviously, we are not the only ones. Freebird has a most excellent joke on her blog that suggests she feels the same.

And he said oral sex could definitely be part of things. And it was. There was soft, tender, slurpily pleasing oral sex. And it was good. And, you know, its hard to see how any arrangement can be bad if it involves more oral sex.