Mrs. Lion has departed for her daughter’s college graduation. She wrote yesterday’s post while en route (“30,000 Feet“). She offered a forecast of bondage for me (Yaaay!) and the resurrection of the lion shock collar I wrote about yesterday (“Shocks Under My Balls“). She proposed using it to let me know that she is thinking about me. OK, that’s an interesting idea. We’ll have to see how that works out. I also hope that she will use it to correct me as needed. Of course, I never need correction.
When Mrs. Lion returns home, it will have been ten days since she spanked me and got me off. Ten days is at the far end of my orgasm timescale. It is also a reasonable interval for a maintenance spanking. Of course, Mrs. Lion is aware of this and will almost certainly deal with these chores soon after she arrives. I have to admit that I’m looking forward to both. The thing about spankings is that I look forward to the next one until I’m told to mount the spanking bench, then I regret ever asking Mrs. Lion to paddle me.
When Mrs. Lion started spanking me, I would be hard when I got into position. I lost my erection shortly after she started. It’s been a while since I approached a spanking with a hard cock. I move slowly to the spanking bench and get into position. My penis is hiding. I am not happy to be there. Here’s the weird part. Within a day or so of a butt-blistering beating, I get turned on thinking about being spanked. Stupid lion!
You would think that I also eagerly anticipate my next orgasm. I usually don’t. I almost certainly get hard when I read or write about spanking. That isn’t true when I read or write about sex. That’s not completely true. Sometimes I get hard when I read or write about sex. I always get hard during literary spanking encounters. Go figure.
One reason may be that sex is limited for me. I get sexual attention. I can’t give it. Don’t get me wrong, I love it when Mrs. Lion pays sexual attention to me. I just miss being able to reciprocate. I don’t think that is the biggest reason. Much as I hate to admit it, the sense of losing control is the most erotically intense sensation for me. I don’t think I ever said this before. Now I have.
waiting by the front door
On a much more serious note, the dog and I are very sad that Mrs. Lion is away. Our puppy hasn’t touched her food or water and has only gone outside just once. Normally, she is going in and out of her doggy door endless times a day. Today she is lying by the front door waiting for Mrs. Lion to come home. She will get up and visit me when I leave my desk. Otherwise, she waits by the door.
Mrs. Lion and I have been exchanging text messages and emails. Like the dog, I’m waiting for her to come home. Our little family has been together almost constantly for over a year. Mrs. Lion flew east for her son’s wedding and her mother’s funeral. Otherwise, we are in our little house here in Washington. It may seem silly for such a short separation to mean so much.
The dog has never spent a night we all weren’t here. She’s very confused and lonely. I’m not confused. I’m just lonely.