Misery

I am so ready to be over it.

I have some stress problems. An extended period of in-laws in our tiny apartment with us have exacerbated them to an almost unbearable level. I have a cold sore cluster on my lip so enormous that I look like a plague victim and am afraid to go out in public.

Now they're finally, finally gone. Finally. But the cold sores will stay a while, hurting and making me miserable for even longer, a legacy from their visit.

Within minutes of them walking out the door, I fired up my netbook and told my husband I was going to start a new blog - on misery.

Instead, he dragged me into the bedroom and had his way with me - thoroughly. It had been over a week since we'd had sex of ANY kind, and even then it was a blow job, so my vaginal walls had tightened to the point that his erect cock felt almost unbearably enormous.

"Too big," I complained, squirming as if to get away as he penetrated me from behind, spooning me.

"I don't care how fucking big it feels to you," he growled, clutching me tighter, his leg over mine forcing me tighter against him, forcing another millimeter of his cock deeper into me, making me scream with the nearly unbearable pleasure of being stretched anew for him.

I lay panting in his arms afterwards as he stroked me gently. I'd forgotten how amazing sex could be, forgotten the magic his fingers cause when they touch my bare skin. My mind was blown. I wanted to stay there with him for the rest of the day. We dozed.

"I think we needed this," he murmured as we shook ourselves awake to tend to the needs of our child who'd been left to his own devices for maybe a smidgen too long.

I laughed.

If only the fact of my need wasn't written so clearly in ugly, painful blisters that cover my upper lip from my nose down. . .

Here's to happiness!