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Something in Your Mouth

Crafty little lip tricks, tattoos on her left hip
She’s bending as you’re spending, there’s no end to it, so baby come on!

You’re so much cooler when you never pull it out
‘Cause you look so much cuter with something in your mouth

~Nickelback

A few days ago, my husband asked me what’s on my mind. He’d noticed I was more quiet than usual, and became suspicious. I assured him, I’ve done nothing wrong, and wasn’t keeping anything from him. I explained, something just felt off. I couldn’t determine why I felt that way, though. I told him, “I don’t know. I guess I’ve detected a disturbance in the force, is all.” That description made him laugh. I couldn’t put my finger on it. I checked to see if my period was coming. Sometimes my hormones get screwy, right before it, but nope. When Adam pulled me into his arms, kissed me, and promised I had nothing to worry about. We were good. That gave me an instant relief, and was when it occurred to me my upset was likely simply a result of missing my husband. He’s been working, a LOT, the past few months. I added up his hours, for the week prior to this one. Not even including his drive time, he’d worked nearly 70 hours in just that week alone. It leaves us little time together, and he’s functioning on like four hours of sleep, everyday. I absolutely appreciate all he has, is, and would always do for us. He provides this beautiful life for his family, and affords me privileges not available to just everyone. He does what he does, to make sure we’re taken good care of. Knowing all of this, I try hard to never nag him about his work/life balance. To him, his work is a willing sacrifice he makes so that I don’t have to worry, and can remain comfortable and secure. Still, I can’t help but miss him. He’ll come home from a 15 hour workday, and never fails to make time for me. Even before he changes his clothes, or sits down, he’s in the kitchen with a kiss, asking me to tell him about my day. He’s happy to spend time with the kids, too. I’m one damn lucky woman.

That night, as we settled into bed, I rubbed my fingers along his rough hands. I traced up his forearms, and over the bulges his muscles create, on my fingers path up to his neck. Adam reciprocated, doing the same dance across my body, using his own hands. Before long, we were both naked. He was gentle, and I understood his efforts to reassure me of his love, as we made love.

The following evening (last night), as we stood together in the shower, he continued to “pour into me”. He did his best to remain alert and present in the moment, with me, in spite of the exhaustion I was sure he dealt with. As we were about to cut off the water and get out, he grabbed hold of me, and gave me a long kiss. I pushed him up against the shower wall, and dropped to my knees. I was eager to pleasure my husband, with my mouth. His body responded, promptly. He ran his hand through my hair, brushing it from my face, and then gripping hold of it at the base of my neck. His other hand reached to fondle my breasts. Soon, my tastebuds alerted me of his impending eruption. I kept going, until finally he pulled back on the ponytail his hand held my hair into, gently forcing my mouth to let go of him. He knows my limitations. I’m neither a swallower, nor a spitter. I didn’t gag once. Which is an accomplishment if I’m being honest, but if there’s one thing I just cannot do, it’s let him finish inside my mouth. I tried, once. Throwing up on my husband’s dick isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever done. So, that was the last time we did that.

It had been months, since I’d given my man a blowjob. I felt bad about it, but dammit I’ve got needs too. I recognize my nympho tendencies, around him, but I can’t help myself. I always want him to fuck me. Sometimes, I do also need the sweet lovemaking. He’s just soooo good at giving my body that euphoric ecstasy it craves, from him. Only from him. I’d never been like that, before. He brings out these animalistic desires, within me. He is so danged good at being a man.

I’m horny, again. I hope he doesn’t get home late, tonight.

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No More Lies

So look straight into eyes Tell me the truth and not lies So now I understand…

~Brabo Gator

If the severity of a spanking matched my level of regret and remorse, this one would’ve left me sitting uncomfortably for at least a week!

After Adam said those dreaded words, you’re going to get a spanking, all I could do was hang my head. He shut off the shower water, stepped out, and then wrapped a towel around me, like he always does. He wrapped a towel around his own waist, and reached out for me. Knowing what was coming, I froze. I admitted, I knew I deserved it, but also told him I was scared. And, I was!

In my mind, I’d committed the worst crime imaginable. I’d broken the number one rule, between us. We don’t lie to each other. I envisioned a spanking more serious than any he’d ever given, before. What would that even be like? What if it makes me cry? Would he stay and hold me, after, like he always had? In those brief moments, all these thoughts played over, in my head.

The next thing I knew, he had me over his knees. My left arm was out in front of me, pinned between our bodies, but my right arm was still free. Instinctively, I reached back, to cover my exposed behind. Adam took my right hand in his left one, and held it against my back, removing my ability to continue making feeble attempts at preventing what was coming. As much as my body wanted to, I fought the urge to kick my legs, to try launching myself from his grip. Even though I’ve done tried all these things, before, and knew I was no match for his strong arms, deep down I also knew I needed to submit. After all, I damn well knew I’d done wrong, and this predicament was entirely my own doing. As his right arm raised, and I anticipated the first smack across my now perfectly positioned butt, I gripped Adam’s leg with my left hand, and the hand he was holding my other in. I realized my nails were beginning to dig into his skin, and found myself shouting out, I don’t want to scratch you! I sensed his raised hand relax, for a second, as he gently assured me that it was okay if I scratched him. He could handle it. I did my best, not to let my long nails scrape across him. I did end up managing to keep from giving him any accidental scratches or cuts from them, too.

I won’t pretend the whole thing was a pleasant experience, but ultimately, I had no issues sleeping or sitting comfortably, after. That spanking could’ve been SO much worse, and I’d have fully accepted I’d earned it. Instead, he chose to let me off pretty darned easy, considering what I’d done. He held me in his arms, kissed me, and begged me to trust him, when he tells me that he’ll love me no matter what. He’s not going anywhere, and that there’s nothing we can’t get through, together.

Later, as I reflected, it dawned on me that it actually has been the spankings I’ve most felt I deserved, that have been much less severe than I’d anticipated. On the other hand, the most severe ones have been for things I had vehemently argued I didn’t believe were warranted. Things I considered minimal, minor, petty, and sometimes even got angry at him for determining punishment was necessary in the first place. That’s when it clicked, for me. I nearly said out loud my collective thoughts “ohhhh”, with this realization! If I’m being bitchy, arguing with him over whether I believe I’ve done wrong, that’s a great big red flag. It signals, I’m not sorry, and I’ll do it again. It displays my lack of respect for him, or his boundaries. It tells him I’m not sorry. This is almost certainly, precisely the reason he’s chosen to make sure I’d come to regret whatever it was I’d done. Maybe, it’s not about the severity of my wrongs, but about the sincerity in my remorse. Of course, I’m aware that if I lie to him again, my apologies probably ain’t sparing me. At that point, I’d have already proven I wasn’t sorry enough not to do that again. But, for the most rare instances of lines crossed, he just wants to know that I’m taking it as seriously as he does. That I mean it, when I tell him, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.

Note to future self…. Lose the attitude. Drop the arguments. Tell him you’re sorry, and try to mean it. You’ll most likely avoid getting your ego checked, with a bruised behind.

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I Was Lying

I wish I could reconcile, cause deep inside I’m dying So I put on a smile, and I pretend I’m fine
I’m just another screw up, baby don’t waste your time I told you we’d be different, but we knew I was lying

~Burden

Ok, so not exactly as dramatic as these song lyrics, but I told Adam a lie.

I’m very good at circling truth, sometimes. Adam calls this, sidestepping. Sort of leading him to the conclusion I’m intending, but without explicitly ever speaking an untruth. One thing I just never did, was tell my husband a lie. I did that, last week. For the first time, in literally more than a decade, my lips spoke a blatant falsehood, to him. When the subject was first mentioned, I didn’t lie. I sidestepped, no doubt, but I allowed him to conclude a lie, based on my statement of facts.

To further explain, we have to go back in time, to around two weeks ago. We were about to make our trip to Knoxville. I was busy, the day we were leaving. I’d run errands, got us all packed up, and made a couple tedious phone calls that needed to be taken care of. There was one more thing, Adam expected me to have gotten done, that day, but I’d completely forgotten about it. Fast forward, to Monday. Laying in bed, Monday night, I suddenly remembered what it was I’d forgotten to do, on Friday. It was late. I told myself I’d do it first thing, the next morning. Unfortunately, Tuesday came and went. I had not, in fact, remembered to do so. It wasn’t until that Wednesday morning, I’d finally taken care of it. I hadn’t mentioned any of this, to Adam. If I’m honest, I don’t think I planned to. Except, the very next evening, he specifically asked me if I’d gotten that done. What I said to him was, that I’d actually forgotten, on Friday. I told him, I remembered, on Monday. As predicted, my response was satisfactory…until a few more days passed. It’d come up, once again. Only, he was asking me to clarify that I’d handled it on Monday. I tried to dance around the truth, and asked him, Don’t you remember, we talked about this the other day? I told you I’d forgot on Friday, but remembered it on Monday. Had he drawn the same conclusion he had previously, I’d be guilty of simply sidestepping the truth, again. That’s not what happened, though. He came out, and asked me to verify for him that I’d gotten it done, on Monday. In that split second, I made the choice to lie. I told him, YES. I lied to myself, too. I wanted to believe it was just a harmless fib. I nearly fooled my own conscience, but not for long. The harder I tried to push down the guilt that bubbled up, the sicker I began to feel. I simply could not ignore it.

I spent more than a day, wrestling with my own guilty conscience. My stomach was in knots. I knew what I was going to have to do, as much as I hated to have to admit to Adam the stupid lie I’d told him, and for a stupid ass reason. I felt, at the time, that confessing my absentmindedness had gone on for more than just one business day, would seem much more irresponsible. Instead, what I wound up doing was making multiple irresponsible decisions, in my effort to conceal an insignificant mistake.

I felt so ashamed. I couldn’t hide the truth from Adam for one more day. I vowed to come clean, about all of it, that evening. Which was just last night.

I’d been more quiet than usual, while we showered. Adam was noticing this. We’d finished showering, and I began to wring out my hair. He reached for the faucet, and asked me if I was all done. The tiny pause before I replied with a weak, yes, removed all remaining doubt in his mind. Something was up. He looked at me, and asked if I was sure. I looked down. That’s when he asked me what it was I needed to tell him. I fought the urge to lie, again, and insist there was nothing wrong. I was downright disgusted, with myself. The shame and embarrassment made me want to hide. I wasn’t going to allow myself to evade accountability, though.

I laid it all out. Like one very long, run on sentence, the truth poured out of me. I watched his face, as my words landed in his ears, expecting to see the same disgust I had over what I’d done reflected back to me in his eyes. His expression was soft, though. He looked down at me, listening to every single word I was saying. I made no excuses, for myself. I made no efforts to lay any part of the blame on him. He’d done absolutely nothing wrong. When I’d finished my tearful confession, I looked back into his eyes, and told him how sorry I was. I meant it, too. I can’t remember feeling more sorry.

His hands clasped my face, as he leaned down and kissed my forehead. The first words out of his mouth were, I love you. He insisted, I have to stop thinking I have to be perfect. There’s nothing I can say or do, to push him away. He reminded me of how much we’ve been through, and that he’s not going anywhere. He told me he appreciated that I’d come clean, and that I apologized. He said he probably never would’ve found out, and although it did hurt that I’d lied to him, he was glad my lie had made me uncomfortable enough to admit it. He acknowledged that he understood that wasn’t easy to do, told me thank you, and then informed me I was getting a spanking.

To be continued…

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Sin So Sweet

Hang up your wings, crawl into me
Cover me up under your sheets
Roll back your eyes, sink in your teeth
Show me that side that nobody sees
I’m addicted to you, you’re addicted to me
I’ve never tasted sin so sweet
I’m using you, you’re using me
I’ve never tasted sin so sweet

~Warren Zeiders

On a very different note from the one I last left off on, is something else that’s been on my mind. I can think of a few instances, over the last 6 months or so, when the “old Adam” absolutely would’ve lit the “old me’s” butt on fire. There’s no question that, when he found out I’d continued to keep things from him, I would never have avoided some serious accountability. Especially for repeating my habit of finding excuses to procrastinate, about coming to him, with things I know damn well I shouldn’t try to hide from him. A month or two ago, I confessed more than one thing I’d been keeping secret. One of those things, for nearly two months. Adam never raises his voice, or says hateful things to me, when I go to him. Even on the occasions when I haven’t approached him, and he’s discovered something I’d screwed up, he’s never been mean, no matter how upset he was. However, it is rather unusual for there to be no repercussions.

I’m not running around attempting to find ways to fuck around, or to find out. I hate to disappoint my husband, and never intentionally hurt him. My mistakes are not major ones. It’s small things, like not doing something I needed to. Or, doing something that I one thousand percent know isn’t a good idea. I’m a great big procrastinator. I get distracted, easily. I often “bite off a whole lot more than I can actually chew.” While those things can and have been the circumstances that’ve lead to a trip across Adam’s knees, they’re relatively minor “infractions”. One thing that’s always been unacceptable, is lying to him. That includes not telling him things that he has every right to know. It’s just lying by omission. Unfortunately, that’s something I’m way too good at doing. I am like a professional, when it comes to avoiding the truth, without telling a lie.

In spite of all of my “transgressions”, Adam has chosen leniency. I asked him why, recently. He told me, “Because I want you to always feel like you can come to me.” He further explained his concern over what it is that he needs to do better, so that I won’t be afraid to go to him, about anything. It’s super important to him, that he does a good job of making sure I know how much he loves me. That I can trust him, and that he always makes me feel safe. He prioritizes my own health, wealth, and happiness, well before his own. I know these things, yet I still struggle with fears that his patience and love just won’t be enough to cover me, when I screw up. So, I make weak excuses to put off bringing things up. I tell myself, he’s tired. Maybe tomorrow. Then, tomorrow brings another reason to decide it’s not the day to risk outing myself. Before I know it, weeks will go by, and I still haven’t come clean. Tension builds, because I find myself distancing from him. Not on purpose, or even consciously. It’s as if even the smallest issue is like a weed in our garden, and each missed opportunity to be honest and pluck it out, allows it to grow and multiply. Before I know it, they’ve spread into every corner. I get overwhelmed, and either lash out or shut down. I recognize how unhealthy and damaging this all can be, and I really do want to stop letting weeds into our garden.

If I’m completely honest with myself, I’m not entirely certain that I’m not manipulating my own husband. I don’t mean that I think I’m doing it in a malicious way. On some level, though, I think maybe I deploy certain specific tactics, when I’m looking to escape accountability. Scratch that. I absolutely do, do those things. There’s really no maybe about it. I look for the most prime opportunity, and I carefully choose the way I explain myself, working to effectively minimize my responsibility over my actions. I’m pretty sure that’s a precise example of manipulation.

More than virtually anything else, I truly want to be good. A good person. A good example. A good wife, mama, daughter, sister, friend. I’ve done plenty of things I’m not proud of, and I’m sure there’ll be more. I never take pleasure in someone else’s pain, and unequivocally don’t ever seek to be the cause of it. I genuinely don’t even hope for harm or hurt to come to the man who raped me. Let alone others, who’ve done things I have, am, or will have to heal from. I pray for their healing. For their souls. That they come to repentance for their sins, and that they’re made new. I really mean that.

I’m far from perfect. Blatantly flawed. I reek of sin. We don’t get any do-overs, in this life. We can’t unmake our mistakes. All we can do, is our best to do better. Apologies help, but they’re also just words. What matters is action. Taking steps forward. Striving to be a better person than I was, yesterday, and to become even better through everyday that follows.

Writing about all of this has made me realize something I hadn’t, until just now. If I were truly worried that my husband wouldn’t still love me, because of something I’ve said or done, and that was my reason for attempting to hide from him…how could I be so confident in my ability to manipulate his love for me, just to get out of a measly spanking? Clearly, I’ve been assured that his love for me far outweighs any of the things I might do to disregard rules and boundaries. I honestly hadn’t thought of that, before. I’m not sure how I managed it, but I’ve snagged myself a husband who’d hang the moon for me. And, we’ve got a rock solid foundation. One that, deep down, I know that I’m positive couldn’t crumble under the weight of all my past, present, or future wrongs. We get a heck of a lot more right, than we do wrong. I can’t begin to imagine a life without my husband. The perfect marriage is just two imperfect people, who refuse to give up on each other. So, right there’s one thing we’ve both been doing, perfectly.

Lo/Hi

You get low
Like a valley
High
Like a bird in the sky
You get low
‘Cause you’re angry
Low
High
High
Low

One at a time
Get in line for the masquerade
Drink ’til you cry
And you’re lying in the mess you made

~The Black Keys

I have seriously not been in any real trouble with Adam, in a very long time! Every so often, a part of me contemplates pushing the boundaries, just to see what’ll happen. Then, another part of me argues, but look how long it’s been since I’ve had a sore behind! That’s the competitive side of me speaking, and she speaks to me much louder than the side whispering ideas to test Adam’s resolve. I’ve had a few instances, spread out over months of time, where I’ve slipped in a little wag of my middle finger, or rolled my eyes. If he reacts with his hand connecting to my backside, it’s not been anything remotely serious. We always goof around together. I frequently receive playful swats on my butt, from Adam’s hands. It’s just that it’s been an incredibly long period of time, since I’ve struggled to stay seated, or had to sleep on my belly for a few nights. I don’t enjoy pissing my husband off. There’s a sort of line, before the LINE. The first line, I know I’m not really supposed to cross. But, when I do, as long as it isn’t frequently done, I know that even if I get spanked for it, he won’t be seriously upset, and my butt will not be sore. The only caveat, would be if I did any of those minor “line crossings” too soon after a serious one. Beings I haven’t taken any big steps over the lines, in so long, I suppose I feel a little bit more cocky about pushing it just a little, a little more often. That’s been the extent of trouble I’ve found, since I can’t even remember when. Last Fall, maybe? Possibly even longer.

One other “side effect”, of my staying away from trouble, is the absolute confidence I bring to our bedroom. I can’t really explain why, but I grow less often “submissive”, when it comes to sex. I want to be on top more. I initiate more often. I talk dirty. That’s not to say that Adam isn’t mostly in control of things, but I guess there’s some sort of “fire” that burns more strongly within me, when I’m filled with the arrogance of having stayed away from the painful kind of spankings that bring out, what I call, Adam’s “hard hands”. I’m very turned on by knowing, seeing, and occasionally feeling the difference between Adam’s gentle hands, and his tough ones. His hands are full of calluses. In fact, his calluses have calluses. He not only works with his hands, but he also works out with weights, at the gym. Despite the roughness in his hands, he’s nearly always incredibly gentle when he puts them on me. It’s only rare occasions, when I’m reminded of how quickly his hands can morph into his very own, built in, “wooden paddles”. I suppose I become less fearful, of those hard hands, when I’ve only experienced his gentle ones for extended periods of time. I wouldn’t say I completely “forget” what they’re capable of. I simply grow to believe more assuredly, that those hard hands won’t make an appearance. So, I’m a little arrogant, in the way I conduct myself. Even in bed. Not that he would ever be someone I even remotely feared, when it comes to intimacy. Adam wouldn’t, and has never forced me to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with. Regardless of the circumstances! After I’ve done something bad enough to warrant a truly sore behind, I only crave his gentle touches. I need him to make love to me. I need him to hold me. I need him to soothe and comfort me. I need to know he still loves me. He’s still proud of me. He still believes in me. It takes awhile to regain this confidence I generally find, even during sex. I suppose there are good, and not so good things that come from my having stayed out of trouble. I can be sassy, and often tip toe just up to, or sometimes over, the line. I’m not quite as submissive, in my thinking and my actions. However, that can also translate into some great sex.

Those are my thoughts, this morning.

Jackie and I are planning to hang out, after awhile. I planned out our next week’s menu, and got the groceries needed for all our meals. I’m making fiastadas, for supper, tonight. Tomorrow, Adam’s grilling us some pork chops. I’m going to make my lemon and pepper green beans, and some pasta salad, to go with. Sunday, I’m planning to make homemade beef and noodles. I’ve already got pre cooked beef stew meat, that I put in our deep freezer after I’d cooked up a bunch of it. We get a giant container of stew meat, at Costco. Then, I cook it all up, separate it into freezer bags, and save it for later. I’ve also got Mj’s favorite, my Hawaiian hot ham and cheese sandwiches, on the menu for next week. I’ll make meatloaf, one evening. And, I’ve got everything to make a fried chicken casserole recipe everyone loves. That’s about all I’ve accomplished, so far today. I need to get some laundry going, and I’d intended to put on a cute little sundress. I should also get the darned cat litter changed out. That’s our every Friday job. We scoop it, in between Fridays. Then, on Fridays, we dump the whole thing out, I scrub out the inside of the litter box, and refill it with fresh litter. I hate the smell of stinky cat litter boxes! So, I do my best to prevent that permeating smell from ever spreading throughout my house.

I’m not sure what we’ll end up doing, this evening? Maybe I can talk Adam into playing a few games of cornole, with me? We’ll see where the rest of this day goes, I guess! Gosh, I love Summertime! Everyday is left to chance. The predictable, boring daily routines get to disappear, for awhile. Tomorrow, it’ll be JUNE! I’m already buying things for our Fourth of July party, at Poppy’s. Jackie, Mikayla, and I will be leaving for our Gulf Shores trip, in just one week! We’re all excited for that, too. I have a feeling this Summer is going to fly by, much the same way it does every year. While there’s lots to be looking forward to, I also want to do my best to enjoy all my todays. Every today is a chance to make memories. Even the ones that seem mundane, in the moment, become days to look back on and find yourself wishing you could be back inside that day. A day such as this one. A lazy, sunny Summer day, spent at home with my family. I hear my kids upstairs, playing a video game on the TV. The birds are singing loudly. My dogs are sitting at my feet, as I type in my blog. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m certain I’ll one day read the things I wrote here, and think to myself, gosh I wish I could go back inside that day. I know this, because I often have those thoughts, when I look back at my writing from time that’s in the past now. Sometimes it’s merely days later. Sometimes it’s years. It happens often, though. I’d reckon most everyone could relate to those thoughts, when reflecting on their own stories.

Crossing A Line

~Mike Shinoda

It’s been a hectic day. Emma, the baby, isn’t feeling well. She just wanted to cuddle and sleep, all day. After the littles left, I had so much to get done! I did laundry, swept and vacuumed the floors, and got our supper cooked. I’ve got all our supper dishes cleaned, and lunches made for Adam and our kids, for tomorrow. Now I’m taking a break, downstairs. I made myself some white chocolate hot cocoa. It’s delicious! I only ever buy that stuff around Christmas time. It’s special, this way. Adam and Justin went to the gym. It’s Adam’s “break time” now, too. In a little bit, we’ll go take our shower, and get ready to go to bed, so we can do it all again tomorrow. I thought this might be a rough Monday, after the long weekend, but I didn’t feel too bad. I wasn’t exceptionally tired or anything. Which I’m grateful about.

Last night, when Adam and I were getting undressed for our shower, I found myself in a little trouble. He was teasing me, about something. I made a gesture that’s hard to explain in words, but one that’s understood by our generation, as I told him to suck it. He picked me up, propped his foot on the toilet lid, and bent me over his knee. I got a handful of moderately hard smacks, but it wasn’t awful. I think Adam was questioning his choice not to give me a harder spanking. While we showered, he mentioned that he thought maybe he needs to remind me what that feels like. He thinks I’m getting a little too arrogant about “dancing on the line”. I protested, of course. I asked him, “Why do you think I haven’t done anything stupid?” I answered my own question, “Because I know the kind of spanking I’ll get, and I don’t want it!” He conceded. I received no further smacks across my behind. However, I have a feeling I need to make sure to stay well inside the “lines”, for awhile at least. I suspect I’ll end up with a very sore butt, if I say or do anything that would be considered disrespectful.

I’m going to finish listening to the Joe Rogan podcast I’ve got playing, while I do a little crafting. Then I’ll go get naked with my husband, while we shower. After that, I’ll tuck our kids into bed, and go get naked with him again, in our bed.

Heat Waves

~Glass Animals

Considering my ass was burning, the entirety of last night, “Heat Waves” seemed an appropriate title for today’s blog. I’m still feeling the spanking I got, yesterday evening…

I’m not proud to admit this, but I’d been keeping something from Adam. A couple weeks ago, it occurred to me I’d forgotten to take care of something. Instead of telling Adam about this, I decided to handle it myself, quietly. Because I hadn’t done it sooner, it wound up costing us more money than it otherwise would’ve. Still, I had no intention of bringing that to his attention. As I should’ve predicted, my indiscretion was brought to light, and he was not amused.

I hadn’t crossed any serious boundaries, like this one, in a good while. I absolutely hate to disappoint my husband. As we discussed this, I told him exactly that. I don’t like to disappoint him. He frowned at me, and asked me when he has ever once yelled at me for something I’ve come to him and admitted? The answer is never. He hasn’t. That’s not to say I wouldn’t have had any consequences, but “lying by omission” is a much more serious offense. Instead of one mistake, it grew into another, much worse, one. Even so, his voice never raised, to me. He kept incredibly calm, as we talked all of this out. He maintains such absolute authority, when he stays composed and measures his words carefully. It’s impossible to really form much of an argument, because he’s clearly right. I did feel awful. It hurts me, when I can see hurt in his eyes. One of, if not the most important things, to Adam, is communication. Honest communication. I’m certain this is why he’s so careful not to lose his cool, when I come to him with something upsetting. I can understand the predicament I put him in, as he tries his best to balance showing appreciation for my honesty (even if it was way overdue), and then knowing he needs to hold me accountable. He did a fantastic job of it, last night, though. Not a single harsh word was spoken from his mouth.

When the time for discussion had ended, and it was now time for consequences, I wanted to cooperate. I wanted to show Adam I understood his position, and I was sorry. But, as he began to pull me across his lap, I sunk to the floor, laid my head on his knee, and gripped my arms tightly around his leg. I told him I was really scared. He assured me, I would be okay. He said we would get this over with, and move on. Then, he picked me up and laid me across his lap. He wasn’t rough with me. He actually takes care to ensure I’m as comfortable and secure as possible, in the moments before a spanking. Those small gestures remind me he still loves me, even in times like these. Finally, he bared my bottom, and began the series of painful smacks across my entire behind. I have been known to say ouch, owieee, please, but I cried out in a way I’ve never done before. I later admitted to Adam, I felt embarrassed about that, but he assured me I wasn’t being a “baby”. He still considers me to be pretty tough. Spankings hurt so much worse, when I’ve admitted to myself I’m wrong, and I deserve this. The times I refuse to “give in”, or accept a wrongdoing, it’s much more difficult to get me to a place of surrender. I can stubbornly refuse to give Adam the “satisfaction” of knowing a spanking is working, or “getting through to me”. This was not one of those times. I got the message, loud and clear.

I know I’m a natural at pushing and testing boundaries. I do sometimes do it, for no other reason than to find out if I can. That wasn’t the case, this time. I wouldn’t intentionally look for ways to hurt my husband, or earn a serious spanking. I do not enjoy those kind! Although I should’ve known better, I really thought I would get away with it. I expected I could take care of this issue, without involving Adam. Even though, I know full well how frustrated he gets, when I hold things like this back from him. I get it.

When we went to bed, I laid my head on Adam’s chest, while I wrapped my arms around him. He too, held me snuggly in his arms. I asked him to love me. That’s code for, make love to me. He told me he wanted me, but he didn’t want to hurt me. He told me he does not enjoy doing that. I can’t describe how much I appreciate the way there’s no grudges held, following an issue that resulted in a spanking. It’s amazing, how quickly we can move on. There’s no animosity, anger, or unkindness. His hands are gentle. His voice is soft. I’m made perfectly well aware, that even during a spanking, he’s loving me. He cares. He wants to move forward, and prevent anymore issues. That’s so important, for me. I can accept, and appreciate all the ways my husband takes care of me, knowing every word spoken, every touch given, is done in love. He has compassion for me, even in discipline. He shows forgiveness, quickly. These are the very reasons why our relationship works. The love and the trust I have for my husband grows, even in the tough times, because he never stops loving, protecting, and providing. He’s consistently here for me, and for us. He never stops showing up for us.

Today, I’m humbled. I’m grateful. And…my backside’s a little sore. But, the reminder I’m feeling physically, is also the very reasons I’m feeling humbled and grateful. It’s a new day. It doesn’t have to be a bad one, because yesterday’s troubles have been dealt with. Although, I should probably apologize to Adam. I don’t think I’ve officially done that. Also, I did talk Adam into loving me, last night. Although it was a little painful, when his body created pressure against my sore behind, it was most certainly worth it!

I Only Date Cowboys

I tried the clean cut, but I had to cut that off
I had the bad boy, but he wasn’t bad enough
I tried the big city broker, but I broke his heart
I tried the rock pop super, and the football star
But none of them could keep up with me
No, none of them was my cup of tea

Now I only date cowboys with the hat and boots
That can back up a trailer like his truck’s on cruise
Kind of cowboy with a wild west heart
If you ain’t the Marlboro man, then it’s no cigar

~Kylie Morgan

Yesterday, Jackie, Mj, and I went to check out a venue, for Justin and Jackie’s wedding. It was absolutely perfect! Everything about it was Jackie’s style. This next year of wedding planning is going to be so much fun!

They ate supper with us, last night. I made ham and cheesy potatoes. We all sat around and talked, mostly about wedding plans. After they left, Adam and I went to take our shower. We were both in silly moods. We teased each other, and did a lot of laughing. Later, while we got ready for bed, I pushed it a tad too far. I was still in our bathroom, putting lotion on, while Adam removed the extra pillows from our bed, and pulled back our blankets. He said something to me, I can’t even remember what. I sneakily flashed my middle finger, and quickly went back to what I was doing. He turned around, and gave me a look. He asked me, You just flew a bird, [flipped me off] didn’t you? I answered, NO… He walked toward me, and told me not to lie to him. I asked, “How the hell would you know?!” He said he knows that “shit eating grin”. I was probably smiling like the Cheshire cat, as often happens when I’m attempting to be sneaky. He grinned at me, but said this is a “no fly zone”, as he picked me up. He sat on the edge of our bathtub, and pulled me across his lap. I was still giggling. He gave me 4 swats, but it wasn’t that hard at all. When he stood me up, he asked me if I wanted to try that again? I replied, YES. His face got serious then, and he told me to go ahead and try it. I said, no way! He responded, that was a good choice.

Once we were both in bed, I climbed on top of my husband, leaned down, and began to kiss his lips. I ran my hands down his neck, and across his shoulders, appreciating how strong and sexy the gym is making him look. As I continued to trace his body, with my hands, moving over his chest and stomach, I kissed down his neck, chest, belly, and halted right at the top of his boxers waistband. Then, I sat back up, looked down at him, and told him thank you for not making my butt hurt tonight. In one solid motion, he turned us both over, so that I was now on my back, with him on top of me. He looked into my eyes, told me he won’t be lenient like that again, and then pressed his lips against mine, giving me a long kiss. We had amazing sex, before I dozed off in his arms.

This morning, as I was getting dressed, and ready for the day, I decided to do something I haven’t done for a few years now. I cut my bangs.

I took Wyatt up to his baseball practice, ran a couple errands, did some dishes, and finished one of my craft projects.

I also got out a few books, that I want to read. A couple of them I’ve read several times already, but it’s been awhile. We were laughing, yesterday evening, because I went to grab one for Jackie to borrow. When I opened my nightstand drawer, the books inside were, George Orwell’s “1984”, “Animal Farm”, Dr Phil’s “Family First”….and “Mein Kampf”. I am absolutely NOT any kind of Nazi sympathizer. Hitler was a disgraceful, sick man. I haven’t actually read the book, yet. Justin lent it to me, because I’m a history buff, and it’s a way to get inside the mind of this sadistic man, and his thinking. It’s also a lesson, in human psychology, propaganda, and how we (humanity) could devolve into such horrific behavior. Even so, I’ve hesitated to begin that book, because I’ve been warned it’s difficult to read, and (obviously) very dark. Clearly, my interests are all over the place!

It’s a cool, cloudy day here. I think I’ll start one of my books. Perhaps, “1984”? Definitely not Mein Kampf”. It’s likely to be a book that sits in my drawer, and never gets read. Maybe one day? Not today, though.

Leave Out All The Rest

Don’t be afraid
I’ve taken my beating
I’ve shared what I’ve made
I’m strong on the surface
Not all the way through
I’ve never been perfect
But neither have you
So, if you’re asking me, I want you to know

When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I’ve done
Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed
And don’t resent me
And when you’re feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest

~Linkin Park

I had such a good day, yesterday. Until…

I’d gotten a bunch of errands ran. I’d planned out the next 10 days worth of breakfast, lunch, and suppers. Then, I got everything I needed for those meals. I washed the kids laundry, and a load of laundry from Adam and my hamper. Folded, put away all the laundry, and started making chicken parm, for supper. I made a pizza, and packed the kids and Adam’s lunches for the next day.

I had also picked up my daughter’s prescription, from Walgreens pharmacy. When Adam got home, I was feeling accomplished. We were both in great moods. Then, he asked me if I’d done the very thing he’d spanked me for, the night before. I’d attempted to do it right after he brought it up, Monday, but the system was having “technical issues”. I’d fully intended to try again, later. I just completely forgot about it. I didn’t want to admit it, though. So, I used my keen ability to navigate a question without telling a lie…or the whole truth. This is what Adam has referred to as “side stepping the truth”. I hadn’t done that in a very long time. By the time we took our shower, I was feeling so shitty about doing that, it was written all over my face that something was wrong. Adam wrapped his arms around me, and softly asked me what was the matter? This made my guilt boil over. I tried to explain, but fumbled my words. Eventually, he understood what I was telling him. He lifted my chin, so I was looking him in his eyes, and told me it hurts him when I don’t trust him enough to just tell the truth. I explained, it was never that I didn’t trust him. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I get afraid he’ll think I’m not even trying, and eventually, he’ll give up. He reminded me, he’s not going anywhere, ever. He loves me, even when I do dumb stuff. He smiled, and said that he messes up too. We’re human. Then, he told me I knew what was coming. He asked me, “Right?” I could only tell him I wasn’t going to fight him. I know this is one of the worst offenses, in his eyes. It truly does make him feel terrible, thinking that I can’t trust him enough to just be honest and upfront. He’s never cruel to me. He doesn’t yell at me, curse at me, or call me names. Even when he spanks me, he nearly always doesn’t make it hurt as much as it probably should’ve. I have found myself surprised after spankings didn’t hurt like I’d expected them to. I can sometimes get a defiant attitude, when that happens, because I come away thinking whatever I’d done must not have been that big of a deal. At the same time, I’m realizing, Adam is in a tough spot, too. He has to navigate the thin line between being too easy on me, and being a hard ass. He doesn’t want to make me afraid to come talk to him. He always makes a point to tell me he appreciates when I admit my mistakes, and how proud of me that makes him. So, what exactly is he supposed to do, when I do admit my screw ups? I’m certain he considers that, if he’s too hard on me, I might not choose to be so honest, next time. Yet, if he lets it go, I walk away believing he wasn’t actually bothered by my actions. I’ve been pondering all of this, this morning. What I’m realizing, is that he absolutely should hold me accountable. I both deserve, and fully expect, to have a very sore behind, when I blatantly ignore rules and boundaries that have been clearly established. I’ve never been angry with Adam, after a spanking that hurts. In fact, it’s exactly the opposite. I’ve gotten extremely frustrated, when I’ve done something he’s claimed was a big deal, and then turned around and shown me wasn’t, with a playful slap or two on my butt. Either it matters, or it doesn’t. At least, that’s how I feel. If he isn’t all that upset about something I’ve done, that’s okay. If it’s one of those, “don’t do it again” kinds of things, that’s okay too. I just need to understand exactly where the boundaries are at. If something is wrong enough to merit a few nights of having to sleep on my belly, I learn that’s a hard line for Adam. Except, when that same something is repeated, and then doesn’t result in an even remotely similar consequence. I get mixed messages, which in turn, makes me push against these boundaries. I do that, because I’m trying to figure out whether they’re real, or not. Whether he means it, or not. I don’t do it because I think it’s fun to annoy my husband. I feel safer, when I know what he expects, and what I should expect, when I cross the line. Last night, Adam asked me, “Do you really think I enjoy doing this? (Meaning, giving me a serious spanking). I paused to think about it, and concluded that no, he doesn’t. Adam sat on the side of our bathtub, and pulled me over his knees, as soon as we got out of the shower. When his strong arms were finished bringing his hard hand down on my behind, his hands immediately changed back into gentle ones. He lifted me up, and I began to cry. I was crying, because I was truly understanding how deeply he means it, when he tells me it hurts him more than it hurts me. I felt guilty all over again. Guilty for leaving him with no choice, but to spank me with authority, and make it count. I also felt guilt about the fact that I get relieved of my own guilty conscience, after he punishes me. He always assures me that he still loves me. He holds me, and comforts me. I don’t have to carry the weight of my own wrongs, afterward. He feels pressure to get it right, every single time. He shows me so much grace and mercy. He well understands my own fears about abandonment. He knows the damage that can be done, if he leaves me when I’m vulnerable. If he spanked me, and then walked away, leaving me to cry alone, it would seriously damage me. When I’m angry, or lashing out, he will leave me alone for awhile. Even then, I panic inside, afraid he won’t come back. More than anything else, I need to be reminded often, he’s got me. He’s coming back. He’ll be here when I need him. Whether I need him to pull me into his arms and hold me. To make love to me. To speak to me. To listen to me. Or, to call me out when I’m wrong.

I Love You Forever

Last night was a rough one. Adam came home, and he wasn’t in a bad mood. I’d told him a couple pretty minor things, just because I wanted to know we had a “clean slate”, and I wasn’t keeping anything from him. It was seriously nothing big at all. He wanted to go in “the office”, to “discuss” this. Whatever…I went with it. When he put me over our bed, lifted my sundress, and then pulled my panties down, I got angry. I squirmed and protested. I don’t know what the fuck I wanted. I didn’t want a spanking, because I didn’t feel I’d done anything deserving of that. However, he and I both know, if he had let it go, I’d have taken that a certain type of way. Adam’s been real big on boundaries, lately. I haven’t been able to make him “bend”. I think there’s this internal fight I’m having. I want, hell I need him to be consistent. If he flip flops on rules or boundaries, I don’t respect them the way I do when he’s consistent. The other voice inside me screams, because she’s losing her power. I got frustrated, that all my best efforts couldn’t sway him. Like, dammit…I don’t want to be able to “win”, but yet I’m desperately fighting for power, at the same time. It’s a difficult thing to explain in words.

Adam never wants to be unfair, harsh, or especially, to hurt me. I love him for that. While I didn’t want him to spank me at all, the fact that it was sort of playful and in no way memorable, only added to my frustrations. Why did we have to go through “all of this”, when he clearly didn’t feel it was a big deal either? I felt like he pretended to care about things that he claimed mattered, but didn’t really. Anger and frustration absolutely boiled over inside me. I refused to give Adam any “yes sir”, in response to his questions, when he let me up. I laid on our bed, and stared through him. I gave him no words, whatsoever. He left me in our room. A few minutes later, he returned. He tried to talk to me again, but I continued to simply glare at him. I also blatantly rolled my eyes at him. Finally, I could see his own frustration had reached its max. He walked out, once more. I stayed awhile longer. Then, I went into our bathroom and threw my hair into a high ponytail. It was a mess, after all that had just occurred. I went out to the kitchen, and cooked our supper.

The following few hours, Adam and I barely spoke, except through text messages. I tried to tell him what I was feeling and thinking, but I don’t think I could have processed all of this yet, either. I wasn’t quite sure why I was feeling or acting this way. I didn’t understand much of my own reaction. I didn’t want to “win”. I have periodically had this thought bubble up, if I hold my ground long enough, not even Adam can help me. I haven’t ever made a conscious choice to do it, and I never planned it to happen, but it did. I was disappointed in myself, for my actions. I was also disappointed that Adam seemed to have just given up. I was sad. I was mad, I was confused. I was conflicted. I searched for words, to give clarity to both Adam and myself. I struggled to find them, though. He was upset with me, but I was upset too. I was really hurting. It was such a lonely and miserable feeling, believing I’d convinced my husband not to try anymore.

The truth was, he hadn’t “given up”. He’d given me time to think, and to cool off. He’d given himself time to do the same. I’d gone into our bathroom, to be alone. I didn’t want anyone to see me so upset. Adam and I continued our “text war”. He was in the living room. I sent one particular text to him, where I said, “You can’t handle it if I push back on you? That gives me lots of confidence.” I heard him get up, and heavy footsteps neared our bathroom. The door flew open. He went into our closet, and emerged holding his belt. He sat in front of me, silently daring me to keep pushing him. I wasn’t ready to back all the way down, yet. I softened my tone, and my words, but I ignored the threat he wielded in his hands. He turned on the shower, sat the belt down, undressed, and got in. I followed him in. Our naked shower talks are always the most raw and honest ones. There’s just something about being naked together, with nowhere to hide, that brings all the truths out.

Adam told me I’d put him in an impossible position. He knew, if he let this go, I would repeat what I’d done. He told me, if he let it go, I’d have essentially “cut off his balls”. I don’t ever want Adam to want to hurt me. I don’t like pissing him off. I don’t enjoy getting spanked. What I do want, is to know when he actually freaking means it. I need to believe him. A playful slap on my butt is fine! It’s all in fun. Going through all the trouble to appear serious, and then telling me he’s not really, with a couple little smacks, that frustrates the hell out of me. He wants me to know the difference between when he means it, and when he’s just messing with me. I want to understand, too! In my mind, he was either not serious, when he brought me into “the office”, or he was afraid of me. My protests had weakened his resolve. I could convince him to do whatever I wanted. I truly can convince Adam to do most anything for me, but I don’t want my bitchy, stubborn, arrogance to be one of the ways I’m able to do that. I want to persuade him through careful, thoughtful, respectful words and actions. Despite this awareness I have, I get mad sometimes, and I try him. I try my very worst “tools”, to get what I think I want. Even though, soon, I recognize that wasn’t what I wanted at all. I didn’t want it to work. I want to know that if I push against my “rock”, he won’t budge. I also want to get to a place where I won’t, can’t, or don’t push him anymore.

After an hour in the shower, talking through this mess we’d made, calmer heads prevailed. Adam ended up giving me the very worst spanking I’ve ever gotten.

I’d just stepped out, from the shower. Adam handed me a towel. He said something about needing to “get this over with”. I didn’t get a chance to respond. I hadn’t even gotten my towel wrapped around my body yet. I clumsily attempted to cover my backside with my towel, but he was quicker than me. He sat on the side of our bathtub, pulled me over his knees, and brought his hand down hard and fast. He covered my entire behind with many repeated swats. I was crying out like I’ve never done before. “Owwwwwie!” “Pleeeease” and “NOOO”! When he finally let go of me, I sank down to the floor. I still held my towel in my hands. I covered my face with it, wiping away tears. Adam gave me a minute there, before he reached out his hand for me to grab ahold of. I looked up at him, and hesitated a moment, before taking his hand. He pulled me up. We got ready for bed. It was late. The kids had been in bed for two hours already. When I walked to our bed, Adam was waiting for me. He held the blanket up, for me to climb in next to him. I put my arms around him, for the first time all day, and laid my head on his chest.

He was still home when I got up, this morning. As I stood in the kitchen, loading my Keurig coffee machine with some much needed caffeine drink, he came up behind me. He wrapped his arms around me, and kissed the top of my head. Then, he gave me his sideways grin, and asked me how I slept. I declined to answer, and instead responded with a sigh and a shoulder shrug. I texted him, awhile ago. I apologized for last nights awful mess. He’d claimed I “lied” to him, because when he told me he was going to spank me, I asked him “what’d I do?” We both knew full well why it was gonna happen, but I guess I just wanted to hear him tell me. He continued to insist that I lied to him, pretending not to know why, and that had made the spanking worse. I still think it would’ve been the exact same experience on my behind, regardless of this “so called ‘lie’”…