Second thoughts about submission

As I said in my last post, my fears about Richard’s increasing aggressiveness were justified. Before we went to bed, he put me into leg chains for the night, “so I wouldn’t get away”. He woke me in the middle of the night as he unclipped one of my leg cuffs, then pushed my legs apart and entered me. I could tell from how wet I was that he had been playing with me while I slept.

I moaned, and he slapped a hand over my mouth.

“Shut up. Just fuck.”

I did what I was told. I could tell he was feeling very aggressive. Not good to argue with him at such times.

He fucked me for a while, moving his hands from my mouth, to my throat, to my breasts, and back again. Then he pulled out and shoved his cock in my mouth. His very hard, very large cock. I choked and he just pushed in deeper. Bastard.

He face-fucked me while I drooled and gasped and choked, and then he flipped me onto my belly, grabbed my hips and hauled my ass into the air. He kicked my legs apart and began to slam-fuck me. I could hear the leg chains, still attached to my right leg, rattle as he fucked me.

He grabbed my hair and wrapped it around his wrist and suddenly stopped, deep inside me.

“Where’s your collar?” he growled.

“Um. I don’t know. In the drawer?”

“Get it.” He pushed off me.

I jumped out of bed and starting digging through the dresser drawer in which my collar usually resides.

“It’s not here.”

“Well, where the fuck is it?”

“I don’t know. I’ll look in the bedside table.”

It wasn’t there. I could almost hear his annoyance.

“I just remembered! It’s in the bathroom.” I ran and got it.

He put it on, roughly yanking it closed. “What kind of slave doesn’t know where her collar is?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” (meekly)

Then he fucked me some more, and he was NOT gentle. When he was done, he put the second leg cuff on himself and said “Now you won’t be going anywhere.”

But he didn’t cum, so I knew I was in for it. I behaved like a saint all day yesterday, “Yes sir” and “No sir” about everything. When he said “Jump” I said “How high?” (Not really, my father used to say that lol.) We did a photoshoot, OUTSIDE with me NAKED, and I DID NOT COMPLAIN ONCE. I definitely earned the title “Good Girl” yesterday.

Jeez, I’ve done it again. I haven’t gotten to the part in the title, but I really have to do some work now. More later. Promise.

Buying whips to punish the wife

We finally got the kids sent off Monday night. That evening we had a quiet dinner and stared shell-shocked at the upside-down house.

Yesterday morning we woke up early and snuggled for a bit, then I got up and made coffee and a nice breakfast. We both got lots of work done and put the house in order.

In the afternoon, we went to a feed store. I wanted to bring home baby chicks, but had to settle for a stock tank that we are going to modify into a hot tub (there are websites that show you how to do this!) Richard headed off into the horse section and suddenly I hear him from across the store: “Pony girl!”

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Oh.My.God.

I looked across and he was grinning from ear to ear, waving a pair of hobbles in the air.

“Look at these!”

I scampered over to him, so he’d stop talking so loudly, even though I was waiting for a store clerk to bring me some eye drops for our dog.

“Richard. Shhh. People can hear you.”

“Have you seen the WHIPS? They’re so CHEAP!”

He headed over to a bucket full of whips and riding crops, touching every kind of horse paraphernalia you can imagine along the way, exclaiming as he went. I followed, whispering quietly that people could HEAR him, we were going to get KICKED OUT before we got our stock tank if he didn’t BE QUIET.

He pulled out what looked like a buggy whip – about four foot of rod and two foot of whip – and cracked it over his head: “This is only TEN BUCKS! I could really use this on you!”

At this point the store clerk (a really cute, hunky young guy, incidentally) found me and handed me the eye drops, while eyeing Richard cautiously. I thanked him, but he didn’t go away for the rest of our visit, following me from the horse supplies, where Richard continued to rifle through the crops and whips, to the pet supplies, to the baby chicks. I bet he was looking for bruises. I told Richard that he probably slipped a note into my bag offering assistance. Richard said no, he probably slipped a note into HIS pocket offering to help whip me. Hmph.

I figured I was in for trouble when we got home, but the ride seemed to settle him down. We had a nice, quiet, vanilla evening. I was finishing up a project on-line and Richard was reading on the couch next to me. I was uploading a series of graphics and started complaining about how long it was taking. This perked Richard up.

“Here. I’ll spank you while it uploads. Then you won’t be bored.”

“Um, gosh, thanks. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Nope. C’mere.”

So I laid across his lap and he pulled down my panties and spanked me, keeping an eye on the computer. When the upload completed, he pulled up my panties and let me sit up. It was a weird transition, with my bottom still stinging, trying to get back to my logical thinky-brain. I started to upload another graphic, making sure not to complain this time. To no avail.

“C’mon. Back up.”

“Richardddd…”

“Now.”

Damn, this one was a really large file. He spanked me for a long time, and he was spanking harder. I couldn’t help squeaking a few times when he really connected.

“Your ass is getting really red. I like this. You’re not so bored now, are you?”

One final graphic, and this one was shorter. By the end of this one, my ass was really stinging and hot. Plus I was feeling very submissive and very turned on.

We went up to the bedroom and I went into the closet and got the riding crop and brought it to Richard. I still can’t believe I did this! Am I getting braver or stupider?? But the look on his face was worth it – it made him so happy.

He caressed it and said “This is much nicer than the ones at the store.”

“I know. It was more expensive too, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. C’mere.”

So I got swatted with the crop a few times, which was stingy but not much stingier than a spanking (shh, don’t tell Richard) and then I got very nicely fucked. But he didn’t cum, which concerned me a little, because when Richard doesn’t cum he starts feeling aggressive.

I’ve noticed this – if we fuck and he doesn’t cum, he’s very focused on me and a bit rough when he handles me, and if we fuck and he doesn’t cum AGAIN, then he’s even more focused and more aggressive. And so on. And with the kids now gone, there was no need for him to be quiet or worry about keeping me quiet.

And my fears were justified. I have to do some work now, so I’ll write about what happened in the middle of the night on my next post. Sorry to be a tease…

I get to be his little girl

Wow. I am so excited. For the next two weeks, starting manana, all I have to do is be Richard’s good girl.

Well, technically, I have several big projects to complete, but I can do these almost completely at home. As Richard said, “No problem. You can type in chains.”

Wheeeeeeeeeeee.

The kids are going away with their father for two weeks.

We’ve had them for the last week. We adore them. But. It’s been a solid week of Quiet Sex. You know. No spanking. No squealing. No begging or moaning, or at least no LOUD begging or moaning.

And no wearing my collar. Or chains. Or whatever slutty little outfit Richard feels like seeing me walk around the house in.

And the week before, we were on the road, in waaaaaaaay too nice of a hotel and waaaaaaaaay too busy to get much fun in. (Although Richard managed to snap a pic of me working naked, unbeknownst to me (see last post).)

So I am really excited and really trepidatious, because Richard says he thinks he’s been too lenient with me lately, and that’s going to change this week. I’ll keep you posted!

Licking her

Remember the scene in Batman Returns, when Catwoman has Batman pinned down and…licks him? We were shopping yesterday evening and Richard mentioned how sexy that scene was. I don’t usually remember anything about movies, but I remember THAT. Scorching. (In fact, I went to Wikipedia to make sure I had the right movie, and I didn’t remember anything else about it. Penguin wants to rehabilitate his image?? He attacks the city with robo-penguins??)

I asked him why that would be sexy to us, given that I’m a submissive woman and he’s a dominant man. He said “She fought back. She didn’t win, but she was a worthy opponent.”

Mostly I do what I’m told.

“Spread your legs.”

“Wider.”

“Masturbate. Now.”

“Show me.”

But yesterday morning was different.

My nipples were a bit tender, from a combination of the time in my cycle, and wearing a teensy little bikini the day before that rubbed them a bit, and rough handling from Richard. I was still groggy, just waking up, when Richard began teasing them. It felt nice at first, because he was barely brushing against them, but then his touch got firmer and they started to hurt.

If I had been wide awake, I would probably have said “That kind of hurts.” Usually he would stop if I said that, or change pressure. Instead, I whimpered and tried to pull away.

Bad idea. Richard growled low in his throat and pulled me closer. I looked up at him, startled, and saw The Look.

The Look. That’s when Richard enters Predator mode, or at least that’s how I think of it. I seem to set it off when I act like prey – try to escape, or whimper, or squeal. If I run, he immediately makes chase. It’s primal. It’s scary.

He grabbed my wrists and pinned them over my head with one hand. With the other, he began to play with my breasts harder.

Surprisingly, they no longer hurt so badly, maybe because he was handling my whole breast rather than just the nipples. Plus he was dead sexy, so I was getting really turned on, really fast. My breasts can take much rougher handling when I’m aroused.

He kicked my legs apart and shoved into me. It took three or four tries, because I couldn’t guide him in with my arms above my head. It’s such a contrast, the hard ramming against me and then, suddenly, sliding so easily into my wetness.

He let go of my arms so that he could grab me by the ass and re-position me. He slammed into me a few more times. Then. He paused for a second, reached down and grabbed my nipple. Hard.

I lost it. I started fighting back. Richard says I was saying things that didn’t make sense. I bit him on the face. I hit him on the back and shoulders. I tried to buck him off. I growled. Through it all, Richard held on to my nipple and slam-fucked me down into the mattress.

When he released the pressure on my nipple I would stop fighting and fuck him back. Then he would grab a nipple again and I would shriek and buck and bite – his neck, his shoulders, his face. But I couldn’t have told you at the time that that was what was happening. I was a complete animal.

Once when I bit him particularly hard, Richard slapped me in the face, then grabbed me by the hair to hold my face away from him. Then he fucked me some more.

After what felt like hours of this – fucking, fighting, fucking – Richard pulled off me. We were both exhausted. He kissed me, he told me he loved his wild girl, then he told me to get up and go to the bathroom.

I gave him my own Look. The Look said something like “Make me” or “Whatever.” Not a look that this good girl is likely to give, but I HATE when he tells me to go to the bathroom.

I started to get up, but he grabbed me and pulled me back down.

“Oh no. I don’t think so. You’re not getting up now.”

“You’re going to masturbate for me.”

“Please. I’m tired. I don’t want to.” (sounding progressively whinier)

“Masturbate. Now.”

I began to masturbate, but my heart wasn’t in it. Or my cunt. Or my clit.

I even tried to talk him out of making me as I did.

“I’m so tired. Why do I have to? Can I stop now?”

He ignored me, and began to play with my breasts again, but more gently.

“Pleeeeeease.”

“That is the most pathetic attempt at masturbating I have ever seen. Do I need to hurt you to get you to masturbate for me?”

I got a little more focused.

He played with my breasts and I got closer to cumming. He can tell when I’m close; I start holding my breath, my belly gets tight and quivers, I get really quiet.

But I was tired, so I wasn’t cumming.

“I’ve been waiting long enough. Im going to play rougher with you now.”

He grabbed both nipples and began twisting and pulling. It pushed me over and I was cumming, cumming so hard I couldn’t breathe or see or think.

He slammed back into me and it felt so sweet, so good, every thrust I pushed up against him and again and again and he came and filled me and collapsed on me and I held him against me.

And maybe I licked him, and maybe I didn’t. But I reckon I’m a worthy opponent.

Who’s your daddy?

Hey little girl is your daddy home
Did he go away and leave you all alone?
…I got a bad desire
…I’m on fire
 – Bruce Springsteen

I’ve always loved the menace of those lines. And I love the way it showcases the Daddy/little girl dynamic that Amy has posted about.

She and I have been finding our own way through an unusual relationship, one that isn’t part of the mainstream, and yet in so many ways sits squarely astride classic Middle America values. There are days when I’m Ricky Fucking Ricardo bending Lucy over his knee for a good old fashioned spanking.

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Seriously, how far back does the image of the husband commanding his wife go back? And yet, it’s not exactly who we are.

Amy doesn’t need discipline.

So we aren’t exactly Ricky and Lucy.

And do we need to define ourselves at all?

Will the thought police show up and drag me off as a perv if I call her “baby”, and if she calls me her “stallion,” will they round her up as a potential horse fucker?

Daddy/Little Girl.

It’s a dynamic, not literal.

Amy posted about how Master/slave didn’t capture the dynamic; nor did owner/owned. Neither does husband/wife.

Amy has two other nicknames for me – “The Boss,” and “The Bad Man.” On a good day, maybe “The Bad, Bad, Baaaaaad Man.”

But our relationship involves a more nurturing role for me. And Amy is not a pain slut who craves constant discipline. Amy is eager to be a very good girl. Disobedience is simply out of the question for her.

So.

What kind of relationship has a woman very eager to obey her partner, without question, and have him make the decisions and care for her needs?

For us, it’s a Daddy/girl dynamic.

It’s the most accurate descriptor for how the two of us interact.

In some ways it feels VERY vanilla. I mean, it’s a common theme in mainstream culture, from music to books to sugar daddies and typical flirtation between couples. For me, I grew up in an arch-conservative evangelical Protestant religion. We had an elderly couple in our church, pillars as it were – easily the most influential couple in our little community. He was on the church board, an elder, etc., and his wife, a white haired beehive fashion plate, led out almost weekly in some part of the service, and often referred to her husband.

She called him “Daddy.”

On formal occasions, she would add his last name after the word “Daddy.”

Maybe they were kinksters.

I think of the deep south. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof – Big Daddy. I see the Daddy/little girl dynamic almost everywhere – it appears to be timeless.

That will reassure Amy. She’s still convinced she’s vanilla.

But for now, who’s your Daddy?

Amy, I’m your Daddy.

How to be daddy’s little girl

This is a hard post to write. It’s taken me several months to become comfortable with being sexually submissive. I’ve written about how I’ve wrestled with the term “slave”, as well as the reality of being one.

This is harder. I’m afraid I’m going to squick some of you out. I could squick myself out if I’m not careful.

Richard has forced me, over the last few months, to face who I am, to look into the dark parts of myself and, rather than run and hide, to look harder. This doesn’t come naturally to me, and it has been scary. But, as I said to the silent male, it is incredible how easy everything is once you open up to who you really are, instead of trying to hide it or ignore it. So here goes the next step in that evolution.

Richard and I have talked about how the Master/slave dynamic doesn’t feel 100% right to us, nor does “owner/owned”. One of my problems is that I feel much more nurtured by Richard than those terms seem to imply. I feel like I have a more exclusive and intimate relationship with him than a slave would have with her Master. After all, a Master could have several slaves, yes?

Richard has called me “girl” since he’s known me. Recently he’s been calling me “little girl” and even “baby girl”. I LOVE it when he calls me that. It feels so completely right. It says to me: he’s in control and he will take care of me. All I need to do is be a good girl and do what I’m told. Heaven.

I told him that I wished there was a good word for who he is for me.

He said “What about Daddy?”

I said I felt funny using that word. Wouldn’t that mean I had serious unresolved issues with my own father? Wouldn’t that mean I was a screwed up freak? He didn’t think so.

I tiptoed around the word. I tested it out a couple of times during sex, mumbling it into Richard’s shoulder as he fucked me. It felt weird. Not good.

I realized that calling Richard “Daddy” made me feel more vulnerable and more submissive than I was yet comfortable with. I couldn’t believe that he could still love me and be attracted to me if I were that submissive. I still can’t quite wrap my head around the fact that, the more submissive I am, the happier Richard is. I guess I’ve been around men who’ve wanted to be dommed for most of my life.

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To put this in perspective: just a year ago, I learned that many men like women to shave their pussies (yes, I’ve been living in a closet). I thought that men who like this must be closet pedophiles, since young girls have bare pussies. Uh, no. Richard, at least, loves anything that lets him see more of me (remind me to tell you about my new micro bikini. Gulp.)

So what to do about this issue of what to call Richard? I’ve been calling him “Sir” when he gives me an order, Richard in front of others, and basically avoiding the issue.

Richard doesn’t like to avoid issues. Richard doesn’t like for me to avoid issues.

A few days ago, I woke up to him playing with my breasts. When he saw that I was awake he began talking to me.

“Daddy’s girl has beautiful breasts.”

I moaned and tried to pull away. He clamped down on my nipples and pulled me back against him.

“Be a good girl. Daddy wants to play with your breasts.”

He wrapped one arm tight around my waist so I couldn’t move and roughly tugged and pulled and pinched my nipples. I struggled weakly, but I was still groggy and he had a strong grip on me.

“Does that feel good? Tell Daddy how it feels.”

Oh god. It felt incredible. It felt so good, and I was still so groggy, that I wasn’t capable of answering. He kept playing with me and talking to me and when he flipped me onto my back and entered me a few minutes later, I was so wet it startled him.

“Oooooh, Daddy’s girl wants to fuck, doesn’t she? Are you a slut, little girl?”

Gah.

Afterwards, we talked about it. He had decided to push me on this, because he could sense that I had a lot of feelings around it. It turned us both on. A lot.

Today when he was fucking me, he told me that I wasn’t allowed to call him “Sir” anymore, only “Daddy”.

I’ve been calling him “Daddy” all day. It feels really hot. And really right.

Riding space mountain

I’ve never liked roller coasters, or thrill rides.

I don’t like giving up control and putting myself at the mercy of someone else’s creation.

I don’t ride them.

They scare me. I’ve never ridden anything remotely scary. Never wanted too.

I went with my boys yesterday to Disneyland, and we did a few different rides – Indiana Jones, Pirate of the Caribbean, etc. Big stuff, for me. But, they wanted something a little edgier, but they know I don’t go on roller coasters. Ever.

But they didn’t want to go on something without me.

So, I pushed my comfort zone a little when we went to the California Adventure part. Went on the Grizzly something water ride. Scarier than I liked, but within reason. I went backwards down this big water hill – about as bad as I can imagine. I tried the flight simulator that flies over California landmarks, that I was afraid of, and that was cool.

So I suggested the Thunder Run train/roller coaster thing. I just focused on my immediate surroundings, and did ok. We took it again later, and I found myself looking around as we did it.

Not so bad. Should have been scarier, but it wasn’t. Easily the scariest thing I’ve been on, but not so bad.

So.

Space Mountain.

Waited an hour and a half.

No fear in the lineup. Felt fine on the starting gate.

Felt great going up the first hill.

No problems. Shot through space like a wild thing, got slammed around and had a most unusual high speed fast turning adventure.

I could do that again.

I will do it again.

My boys tell me it’s pretty tame, maybe a 4 out of 10. Whatever it is, it’s not something I need to resist anymore, and I’m game to try bigger, wilder rides.

Heights, loss of control – those are some of my biggest fears. But at the right time, they turned out to be nothing.

I expect Amy to push her comfort zone. Nothing wrong with me pushing my own too.

Training myself, these days.

Cool.

Delaying sex to make her more horny

As I mentioned in a previous post, I’d hoped to get Richard drunk on daquiris and seduce him Tuesday night. To no avail. A few minutes after posting my wicked plans, I passed out face down on the couch. Honestly, he must have slipped something into my drink because no way do I get drunk that easily. Or maybe the long day had weakened my tolerance…

I woke up to the dog barking. Richard came over because I was so confused and gently helped me up. I couldn’t figure out what time or day it was. He finally managed to get me upstairs, where I proceeded to fall face first on the bed.

He took off my clothes and tucked me into bed.

I woke up in the morning feeling fine. We sleep in spoons, with my ass in his lap and his arms around me, holding my wrists in his hands. I wiggled around and snuggled up under his arm. He pulled me closer.

I started kissing his neck and nibbling on his chest and shoulders. He squeezed me tighter but didn’t open his eyes.

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I rubbed my chest against his. This usually works to wake him up. Today he just caressed me lightly for a moment then fell back asleep.

I flipped over and wiggled my ass against his belly. That woke him up.

“What are you doing, little girl?” he said groggily.

I giggled. He grabbed me by the hip and pulled me closer. I ground into him.

He groaned and buried his face in my hair. I could feel him nuzzling the back of my neck. His hand reached around to my breasts. He caressed them gently then began playing with my nipples.

But after a couple of minutes he fell back asleep!

This was challenging. I really needed him to fuck me. After a couple of minutes of fruitlessly rubbing and wiggling and snuggling, I knew that I had to do something more.

“Would you please spank me?”

“What?”

“Please spank me Richard. I really need a spanking.”

“Really? You WANT a spanking?”

“Yes please.”

He was wide awake.

“Roll over.”

“Yes sir.”

I rolled over. Then I got nervous.

“I don’t need a HARD spanking. Just a LITTLE spanking is fine.”

“Oh really.”

He began smacking my bottom, moving from side to side.

“Oh! Yes, just a little. Oh!”

“You want to decide how much spanking you get?”

He smacked a bit harder, and then he stayed in one place for a few smacks. That hurts worse.

I didn’t want to answer that question. Yes, of course I want to decide. But if I say that, will I get in more trouble? Probably. I kept quiet. Well, except for the inadvertent squeaks when he smacked me particularly hard.

But then he stopped and rolled me over and looked into my eyes.

“I like spanking you.”

“Yes.” (I know that, that’s why I asked him to spank me. I was hoping it would get me laid.)

He reached out, took my hand and placed it on his cock. His hard cock.

“I really like spanking you.”

“Ooooohhhh.”

And then, before I had time to think, he flipped me back onto my belly, hauled my ass into the air and slammed his cock into me. And it just got better from there.

So I did seduce him, eventually. No thanks to the daquiris.

Ownership, sharing and monogamy

Richard has discussed in an earlier post his interest in MMF threesomes, and his decision NOT to pursue them in our relationship. His decision was based on my very clear, very loud concerns about them (basically having to do with the potential physical and emotional dangers of bringing another man into the relationship), which led him to feel that it would be psychologically harmful to me to pursue them.

Mia, who posts here sometimes and has a great blog “What We Did Last Night”, posted about a MMF threesome she had recently. I loved her post and it helped me to understand what Richard meant when he talked about what turned him on about them: the woman’s over-stimulation and loss of self-control.

And for him, it is the ultimate sign of ownership, to share what is yours with another.
Amy – owned by Richard
I have always been monogamous. I think maybe I fall in love with anyone I fuck. I actually read something recently that supported that idea; oxytocin levels rise after fucking, oxytocin is a “bonding” hormone (grossly oversimplified), I figure I probably have the world’s highest naturally occurring levels of oxytocin. I am so completely focused on Richard that it is hard to imagine being attracted to another man, much less fucking him! And fucking him while Richard watches! Or joins in! Ack!

However, I’ve been thinking about threesomes a lot lately, because I know how erotic Richard finds them. I think maybe they are his biggest turn-on. I wonder if maybe I feel secure enough in our relationship to try this. It scares me, but maybe being scared can be part of the eroticism, like it is with being blindfolded or handcuffed. I really don’t know.

Richard says that every fantasy he has acted out/lived has turned out much better than he expected. I’ve always felt that fantasies are just that, and don’t need to be lived to be enjoyed. But now I’m living a life that I didn’t even know enough to fantasize about, and it’s WONDERFUL. So maybe this would be the same.

After we had been talking online for about a month, Richard sent me the following short-short story. (I had to dig and dig through my email to find it. I LOVE reading our old emails. The yearning!) I found the story very hot, but didn’t seriously consider it as something that could or would ever happen. I still find it hot…

Answering Richard’s call, Amy entered the room.

A man she didn’t recognize stood talking to Richard.

“Stand here,” Richard said. Then to the man, “show me what you meant.”

Amy, barefoot in a delicate t-shirt and sarong, waited as the stranger deftly untied the sarong, letting it drop to the floor.

Naked from the waist down, Amy stood shyly as the man used her lower body to illustrate some complex tattoo he had once seen, turning Amy around once to show exactly how it had risen over someone’s buttocks.

The demonstration over, Amy waited quietly.

“Beautiful woman,” said the man, almost as an afterthought.

“Yes she is,” answered Richard. “Listen, why don’t you stay for dinner?” With a nod indicating Amy, “We can sit up later with whiskey, and take turns fucking her by the fire.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Richard turned to Amy.

“One more for dinner.”

Trying to get him drunk

Shhhh. I’m trying to get Richard drunk.

We’ve been way too busy. And then we went out into the desert which was wonderful BUT I didn’t get the hot tent sex I was hoping for.

Why? Because it was Memorial Day weekend. Doh. We could hear when the neighboring campers zipped open their tent, for goodness sake.

You may be thinking here “But wait. Wasn’t she posing for nekkid pics out there?” Well yes. The campsites were completely full, but nobody seemed to go more than about 10 meters from their site. So that was not a problem.

And by the way. Richard had shown me a lovely picture, a panorama of the desert with, far in the distance, a woman perched on a rock. Me. Naked, yes, if you looked hard enough. But blending in to the natural surroundings, much like the lizard he posted below. That’s what I thought he was going to share with you.

But nooooooo. I open up the blog to see what everyone has said about the desert trip (I’m becoming very attached to y’all) and I get a FACEFUL of Amy. I’m glad people liked it, but I’ll admit it was a bit of a shock.

Anyway. I’ve made a blenderful of strawberry daquiris. I’m plying him with them. Richard didn’t drink until his thirties, whereas I come from Germanic stock and so have been drinking since I was knee high to a grasshopper (as they say in Holland) (not really).

So I’m thinking that I will be able to get him drunk and take advantage of him. Maybe even tie him up? Who knows what can happen when you get a domly type tipsy (say THAT three times fast)?

I’m a teensy bit worried that he may have alternative plans however. I just noticed that his glass is quite a bit fuller than mine. Hmmmm. I’m going to log off now and refresh his drink. Wish me luck!