Fifteen Long Minutes

Lion’s backside wasn’t as furry as I’d feared. I thought it would take forever to wax him. I was surprised at how much hair was in his crack, but that’s really the only bad spot. It took longer to prepare his skin than it actually did to wax him. That’s the good news.

The bad news is that Lion spilled food on his shirt and was looking at punishment. I suppose it was more good news for him that I was too sore to swat him last night. This morning I saw that he hadn’t managed to sneak out without my noticing to set up the coffee pot. More bad news. Or is it? If I had punished him last night, then I would be whomping on already sore buns tonight. I guess he could look at it as good news that I’m “only” adding five more minutes to tonight’s spankfest. Lucky him. I know he’s not looking forward to any punishment, and more is definitely not better.

Lion wanted to have more touchy-feely action earlier yesterday. He says we never touch except for sex. Not true, but okay. After he was waxed and showered, I waited for him in the bedroom. He went off to do something quickly on his computer and said he’d be right back. Not true, but okay. When I finally decided to get up and do the garbage, Lion said he’d be right in. I did the garbage, and he still hadn’t come in. So I waited. Eventually, he showed up and said he didn’t know I was done. I think he wasn’t paying attention. And what happened to the one quick thing he needed to do? Apparently, that morphed into other things. He explained he’s been trying to move files from one place to another. Okay. Don’t care. He wanted touchy-feely action, so he should have been in the bedroom.

Anyway, he finally got into the bedroom and, of course, the TV went on. But once it was clear that he was getting his touchy-feely time, he muted it. I hadn’t really decided if I wanted him to have an orgasm or not. It usually depends on how far we get. However, I need to tell him at some point, so he knows if he’ll get punished for not having an orgasm when I want it or having one when I don’t want it. So, when things were getting hot and heavy, I stopped. He was panting. He was pretty close. Good. I said I guessed he wanted an orgasm. He said it was up to me. Of course, it is. I went back to work on him and stopped again when he seemed even closer. He was panting more heavily. I told him I’d decided I did want an orgasm. I could have told him anything at that point, and he wouldn’t have actually heard me. So I put him out of his misery.

Now with his orgasm “out of the way,” he can dwell on the fact that his punishment will be fifteen minutes tonight. Fifteen long minutes.

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