Silly Saturday

Every once in awhile, life just gets silly. When the planets and the stars align in smiley face patterns, you might as well just give it up and laugh because, otherwise, things are just going to keep sliding toward slapstick until you get the hint. This morning was one of those times...

He woke up slowly and reluctantly this morning -- not feeling especially frisky or even very good (if the truth be told). There's nothing at all going to happen with Himself until I get Him unmasked. As long as He's hooked up to the CPAP, it is hard to "connect." So, it was late morning when His eyes finally began to flutter open and focus on the fact that I was there and rubbing and scratching Him.

Just as He began to sort of come around and started to snuggle and do that rub and hump thing that gets Him going, the doorbell rang. WTF? Friends, our doorbell never rings. Never. The possibilities, if the doorbell rings are pretty limited. We hadn't called the plumber, so it wasn't likely that it was that. In the days when Master's parents were more "mobil" we sometimes got the two of them at the front door, but really, getting "mom" out and about anymore isn't a practical reality, so the possibility of them ringing the doorbell at 10:30 seemed unlikely. As sure as we are that what goes on in our increasingly conservative and oppressive government these days is BAD news, we weren't entirely prepared to assume that it was the NSA on our doorstep. So, we were a little baffled.

I climbed my naked butt out of bed, grabbed a bathrobe and shuffled out to the door (wild hair and all), where I scared the living daylights out of a cute little neighborhood girl scout selling the annual installment of girl scout cookines. Grrrrrr... No thank you, we don't want any cookies.

Back to bed. Back to attempting to convince/coerce the somewhat reluctant, grumpy, "I'm not feeling particularly good" penis person to get into it (talk about an esteem challenge)... Finally, we achieved the point of "lift off," and He declared that He was "ready." Hallelujah!

I climbed aboard -- yes, this is the part of our lives where I am always the "top." Don't laugh -- you don't kneel on artificial knees, boys and girls. I get myself situated and start doing the thing I do while He makes "happy, contented Dom" noises. Suddenly, like a sixteen-year-old in the back seat of His dad's Chevy, He remembers His manners (I guess), looks at me with the funniest goofy grin, and says, "I love you." I couldn't help it -- I just lost it laughing. Oh my!

Now, there are many things about poly that people may wonder about; there are even some things that people ask about on a pretty regular basis. The fact is, though, that we've learned that there are patterns in our lives that are just predictable. We really try to be sensitive with each other about some things. We generally are not sexual as the three of us. That is usually something that we make space around for each other and we try to respect those spaces. Still, when you have adults sharing the same living space, with schedules that are shifting, it isn't always easy to know who might be DOING IT when. It does seem that T has an almost uncanny 6th sense that inevitably brings her cruising in just as Master and I get started making love. We joke with each other that there must be flashing lights and alarm bells that go off when we get started. This morning was no different. I'd no sooner recovered from my near hysteria over the "I love you" remark when the door opened and in came my sister-heart, dressed in her bright pink fleecy pj's and her killer rabbit slippers -- she always enters singing "Oh sweet mystery of life; at last I've found you!." She was a vision, and of course, she had to tell us how she'd scared the girl scouts half to death with her killer rabbit slippers...

Ahh well! You gotta laugh. And we did.

She grinned. Shook her head. Turned around and left us to it. Now let me see, where were we? Oh yes, the back seat of the Chevy. Grin.

swan