High Expectations and a Disappointing Reality

I was so sure our kinky fuckery plan would happen that I delayed writing this post until today. Instead of a sexy thing for Monday, I’d have something erotic to share on Tuesday.

Life doesn’t always follow my carefully laid plans.

It started when we woke up at 4:45am, before the alarm went off. The boys were leaving that morning to stay with their grandparents for a few weeks. All we had to do was get them up and have them ready to leave.

By 5:25am, they were on the road, and we stared at each other in disbelief. We were finally kid-free for the first time in a very long time.

But first…adulting.

Coffee. Shower. Breakfast. Grocery shopping.

Once home, clean the kitchen. Walk the dog. Do a little work.

John Brownstone napped, but I knew if I laid down, I’d sleep until I forgot what year it was…and wouldn’t sleep Monday night.

I blinked back the burning exhaustion and continued on.

We snapped at each other a few times, both of us tired and cranky. Our dinner was an hour earlier than usual as our sense of time evaporated.

Another errand (a new dryer!), then another, and then a third.

Finally we were home for the day. We curled up on the couch and read for a few hours.

I thought we’d “go to bed” early because, ya know, kinky fuckery. Nope. We waited until our normal time. My eyes burned with the need to shut them. All I wanted was a dark, cool room and a soft pillow.

Instead, I was hot. Uncomfortable. Annoyed.

But this was also our moment. TIME FOR THE KINKY FUCKERY!

From the first smack on my ass, nothing felt right. To be fair, John Brownstone came out of the gate with a hard wallop, and I prefer a warm-up. Tears prickled at the corner of my eyes.

I didn’t want this, and I didn’t want it to stop.

All I had to do was endure it. It would get good if I waited it out.

I buried my face in my arms and waited. No flinching, wincing, or pulling away. But I noticed every discomfort…from the sheen of sweat on my skin to the blooming pain in my bottom.

Our signals were off. There was no dancing on my toes and squealing, “No Daddy!” to let him know it was too much but also just right. He didn’t lean down and ask a lot of questions. Like me, he had pent up energy, desire, and need. He came out swinging but it was too much. We were out of sync.

Then he pulled out my favorite paddle from Lodbrock. In my emotional state, I half-convinced myself he would use something I hated. The paddle should have been a welcome change, but it wasn’t.

The sensation changed with each firm smack against my flesh. Not too painful. Plenty of thud. But I still couldn’t relax into it.

Finally, a blow landed wrong, the pain was overwhelming, and I broke down completely.

It was all wrong. I wanted to suggest getting a good night’s sleep and trying again tomorrow. But I worried that something else would get in the way or I’d back out the next night. Better to do it now and get it over with. (Not an ideal thought about kinky fuckery with a loving, willing partner, by the way.)

Once I started crying, I couldn’t stop. All my disappointment and exhaustion poured out in great wracking sobs. He held me and stroked my hair until I calmed down. I felt like I’d let him down. We’d both looked forward to this day for weeks, and now it was ruined.

The tears began again in earnest. I was incomprehensible as I apologized — for ruining our night, for the sex we weren’t going to have, for not enjoying the spanking.

First he hushed me and told me I had nothing to apologize for. Then he handed me one of our over-the-counter sleeping pills. We needed sleep. I knew he was right, but I only sobbed harder.

I know we both laid down, pulled the cover over us, and got comfortable. But my memory is fuzzy after that. Between the tears, the exhaustion, and the sleep aid, I was out within moments. I slept through the night and don’t feel the oppressive exhaustion of yesterday. But I also feel hungover. Too many emotions on not quite enough sleep, I guess.

We had high expectations for our first kid-free day. The reality fell short but we’ll get there. I know that. Exhausted me might forget, but in the light of day, I know we’ll figure it out.

It’s not at all smutty, but welcome to Masturbation Monday (on a Tuesday!). For actual smut, click below and enjoy.