Unspeakable Axe

I’ve been thinking a lot about how lucky I am.  How I used to consider myself unlucky in love and with women in general.   Sure I could have sex with plenty but when it came to actual relationships it never worked out the way I had hoped.  Either I didn’t feel it or they didn’t feel it.  

I was reminded of this recently when my first real girlfriend added me as a friend on facebook.  We emailed back and forth, catching up, talking about her kids, her ex husband, her new boyfriend.  This is the first woman to break my heart.  I was 19 and thought I’d never recover from it.  I was crushed.  Now I wanted to thank her for it.   But how do you thank someone for breaking up with you because you found something so much better? You found what you always wanted even at 19 but didn’t’ think it was possible.  How do you say that without sounding like an asshole?

Fast forward a few days and I’m finishing up some work.  Sade had gone to bed a few minutes before and I was in a rush to join her.   I take out the trash, wash the dishes, brush my teeth and I quietly walk into the bedroom.

She’s fast asleep.  Naked and sprawled out.  My heart jumps at the sight of her, seconds later my cock does too.   I strip and lay next to her, tempted to start kissing her back or gently lick her ass, or nibbling her ear. I’m pretty sure if I did, she’d wake up and jump on me but I can’t seem to bring myself to disturb her.  She looks so breathtaking while she’s dreaming that it feels like it would be a crime.

I start thinking about the road that took me here, how it’s more than just the kind of sex I was looking for.

It’s not just about the beatings, the bondage, the amazing sex, my submission to her or her dominance of me.

It’s about the day to day, the not as kinky days.

It’s about walking in the door from work and squeezing her tight.

It’s about making her a snack in the kitchen only to turn around to see her smiling at me and finding out she was standing there the whole time just enjoying me making her something.

It’s about giving her massages while listening to This American Life.

It’s the lazy days, the planning for the future, the laughing, the inside jokes, the cuddling and a million other things.

I think back again to that 19 year-old version of me.  If I could go back in time I would have told him not to worry, that everything would work out, to just enjoy the journey and not worry so much about the destination.  That he shouldn’t focus so much on what he doesn’t have and take pleasure in the things he does have.

It will all work out eventually.

She’s been out of town for the last two days.

Two…whole…days.

It’s actually the longest we’ve been apart since very early on in the relationship.

The silly part is, if someone where to come up to me and say they were away from their better half for two days and they’ve been aching for them, I’d probably say “Jeez, relax, it’s just a couple of days away, you’ll survive.”

Somehow it’s different when I’m the one aching.

I’ve spend the last two nights working on a few projects around the apartment.  I’ve managed to work though most of them.  It’s been a nice way to feel connected to her while she’s been away.  Doing service for her when she’s not here is a nice.

It’s very common for my mind to wander at work, I’ll daydream about something we’ve done or might do and I’ll find it impossible for me to leave my desk until I’m no longer turned on.    The last thing I want is to get fired due to a visible hard-on bulging through my pants so I just sit and wait for it to go away.

I sent her a text telling her how hard I was for her and she wanted me to go to the bathroom, take a photo of my (actually it belongs to her) cock and send it to her.   I managed to hide my state of arousal by putting my hand in my front pocket and holding my erection to the front of my leg as I walked to the bathroom while trying to act casually.

When I made it in I noticed two coworkers standing at the urinal chatting it up.   I made it to one of the stalls and waited for them to leave.   Seconds later they do and I was about to bring my cock and phone out to snap a photo when someone else walked in and I put them both away.   As my coworker walked by the stall he started talking to me.

How the hell did he know it was me?  He must have look in between the gaps in between the door and the wall and saw it was me.   Who the fuck does that”?

Side note:  Why do some guys talk in the bathroom?  I have a few coworkers who do this.  I can understand if we’re at a bar and we’ve had a few drinks and you’re making a passing joke or something but we’re at work.  I’m only in the same building as you because we’re paid to be in the same building.  One guy at work was so bad at it I finally told him “Look, if you ever see me in a situation where my dick is outside my pants, don’t talk to me”.   I figure this will also cover any situations in the future if this guy ever shows up to a sex party we’re at.

Anyway where was I?  Oh yeah, so as it turns out there’s no bigger erection killer than talking about computer networking hardware with a coworker while you’re in the bathroom…or anywhere for that matter.  Plus there are gaps in the construction of the stalls in the men’s room, if someone wanted to they could have easily spotted me pointing my phone’s camera down at my junk

I felt bad for not being able to send Sade the photo she requested but the next day I found myself daydreaming about our exploits together and moments later found myself in an empty bathroom.   I felt embarrassed even though she was the only one who’d see it (as far as I know, she’ll take photos of me now and then and shared the ones she likes most with her friends).   I pulled myself out of my jeans, aimed my phone at it, clicked an image of it and zipped back up.

Click and Send

She was pleased.