I’ll be waxing all of this off Lion today. He has almost no pubic hair left to remove

Last night Lion’s tummy was giving him trouble. He mentioned wanting a hot fudge sundae, but he knew he shouldn’t for fear of feeling even worse. It wasn’t until this morning that I remembered his post about semen on ice cream. Is that why he wanted a sundae? I’m sure he wasn’t asking for a semen sundae.

I wouldn’t give him one anyway. He’s nowhere near ready to come again. And why would I waste it on a sundae? I rarely waste it on him. Since he doesn’t seem to like my hand anymore, his orgasms have been oral. I’m not willing to give up his cream filling once it’s in my mouth. No way! And his next orgasm is supposed to be vaginal. I suppose he could lick me clean afterward, but it still wouldn’t be on a sundae. I guess he’s safe from having a semen sundae for now.

I have the wax melting. I put most of the stuff back in Lion’s office this morning after the carpet dried. I have to clean off the waxing table and the floor surrounding it so I can yank the fur out of him. It’s been a while since I waxed him. I think it’s more than a month. He isn’t all that furry. It’s just at the base of his penis and some scraggly long hair on his balls. I may go back to only waxing his bikini area every month and the rest of him every other month. It takes longer to track down the slight hair on his stomach and chest. There just isn’t that much. If he wants his armpits done, I guess I can do them every month—the things I do for my Lion.

He’s also been after me to change the filters under the sink. I’ve only done it one other time (it’s a yearly thing), but it’s a pain in the ass. It’s a small area, and my contortionist days are long gone. It won’t take long. I just know it will hurt my shoulders. I have to bite the bullet and do it. And then we can watch our football team lose again.

When you think about eating semen, do you catch yourself making a “yuck” face? Most men and many women don’t particularly like the taste or smell. That’s probably why requiring ingestion of semen is a very popular thing to make submissive partners of both sexes perform.

Men, in particular, love to brag that they are forced to consume their own semen. I agree that the idea is very hot and the reality less than thrilling. Since, consuming requires ejaculation, the required eating comes at a time when almost all men are least interested in anything sexual or submissive. Maybe that’s what makes it so exciting. There is no escaping the fact that nothing feels sexy just after coming.

Many years ago when I was single, I was chatting with a dominant woman friend. I mentioned that I thought it would be hot to be made to eat semen. She said she could arrange it. She would invite a man over and have me suck him off. Whoa! I told her that wasn’t what I had in mind. She replied that it is no challenge to eat my own and isn’t semen just semen no matter who makes it?

I told her that I thought there was a big difference. She asked me what it was. I was stuck. Isn’t it gay to eat another man’s semen ? Is it less gay to eat my own? I wouldn’t do either voluntarily. I’m much more willing to eat what I make. There is a certain justice to that. I made it, so it is fair that I clean it up. My friend pointed out that if I sucked a man’s cock, wasn’t I making that semen too?

I quickly changed the subject. Some women, like Julie, require their husbands to consume any semen  they produce no matter where it is deposited. The men like to whine about it, but clearly find the concept exciting and don’t really mind the post-orgasmic snack.

I suggested this to Mrs. Lion on several occasions. Once in blue moon she will feed me some of my output. She actually likes the taste and considers it a treat. For the record, she told me that she has always liked it regardless of who produced it. So much for me creating a gourmet treat. Since I had a vasectomy many years ago, my semen is rather tasteless. Nevertheless it isn’t something I want on ice cream.

We have finally figured out the smell in Lion’s office. Cat pee. Well, dog pee, but it’s very similar to cat pee. If it had smelled like that all along, I would have known exactly what it was. Now I can’t smell anything but cat pee.

Lion decided we needed Stanley Steemer to clean the rug. We have a giant carpet cleaner in the pantry. It’s buried under things but I could have uncovered it. He insists the smell goes under the furniture. Perhaps under his desk, but I can’t see it being under the printer cabinet. The dog would have had to aim into a three inch gap. Anyway, as I’m getting dinner ready and cleaning up another mess, he was yelling at me from the bedroom asking about Stanley Steemer. I’m yelling back that he needs to give me a minute. He couldn’t hear me because the damn TV has to be on at 900 decibels all the time. When I was finally able to get to him, I didn’t care if Stanley Steamer cleaned the shingles on the roof. Then he complained about the cost. Excuse me? There’s a perfectly good carpet cleaner in the pantry. Free. Already paid for. All it would take is a few minutes to uncover. Oh well.

The bigger problem is that he yells from another room and can’t hear my response because the TV is always on and usually loud. Why do men do that? My ex would yell from another room and I’d have to go see what he wanted. If I yelled from another room, I’d have to go tell him what I wanted. Lion does the same thing. Why can’t they move to where I am? Obviously I’m better at finding them than they are at finding me. ]Lion — I have trouble getting around.]

I tried to explain why I was upset at him for not hearing me and he wondered why I was yelling. He’d done nothing wrong. He was innocent. Ha! Turn the TV down. Get up and find me. If I wasn’t going to him, it probably meant I was in the middle of something (which is what I was yelling to him but he couldn’t hear).

So now I’ve cleared out his office for the Stanley Steemer guy who was supposed to be here between 12-6 or 2-6, but called a little while ago to say he’d be here in a half hour. Frenzied clearing and over a half hour later and no sign of him yet. I wanted to go to Costco to get things we either forgot last time or have run out of since. I’m not sure we’ll make it this weekend. Lion needs to be waxed. That won’t happen today. I don’t know what other curve balls will be thrown at us, but something else is sure to happen. That’s just the way things have been going lately.

The restoration people have cleaned out the water damage and mold from the basement. My home office has a very strong ammonia odor. I can’t spend much time in it. Our stuff is out and being handled by our insurance people. What a mess! Fortunately, we are fine and don’t have any serious losses. Mrs. Lion hasn’t focused on sexual or disciplinary matters since this happened over a week ago. Fortunately, she did give me a nice orgasm in the midst of this.

She plans on waxing me this weekend. I am getting pretty furry. This is a combination of fun and pain. Even though my hair has gotten sparse and thin, the hot wax burns my tender balls and perineum. Pulling the hair out isn’t painful at all. When she is done with my front side, Mrs. Lion removes residual wax with mineral oil and spends extra time on my hard cock. She’s a very careful lioness.

It’s been 19 days (as of Friday) since my last spanking. I’m not exactly complaining, just pointing out that it’s been a while. Our pattern is that the longer the time since my last spanking, the less likely I’ll get one. The only exception is if I forget to set up the coffee pot. If I do that, I get spanked. Now that Mrs. Lion agreed to implement “fact of life” spankings (“It’s Just A Fact Of Life“), I expect my butt to hurt more often. Right now, inertia has cut in, and Mrs. Lion will eventually remember.

She wrote that she plans to ride me reverse cowgirl this weekend. It may be a bit too soon. It’s only been two days (as of Friday) since my last orgasm. Three or four days may be too soon for a ride. It’s not up to me. Just sayin’. No matter, we will have a busy weekend.