FRUSTRATION

Happy Monday everyone.  Today is Ray's birthday.  He doesn't want to do anything special. I keep asking, and all he keeps saying is 'it's just another day.'  That may be so, but it's the 26,280 day, and it should be celebrated.  I bought him a gift and a card and will suggest that a birthday spanking is an option, just in case it might slip his mind.  Keeping my fingers crossed.

Today's story is a scenario that many of us here in blog land have faced, fought the fight and won. Some of us have been more successful than others and to those may I say I'm jealous, but then you know that.

Enjoy.

FRUSTRATION

“Honey, I want to talk to you later.  Do you think you could turn off the TV long enough so that we could talk before you fall asleep and then head to bed?”

  

“Sure, babe.”

I had been working up my courage to talk to him for months, actually years, but it was only in the last few months that I thought I could really do it.  We’ve been married twenty-five years, our kids are grown and gone.  We still love each other, there’s been no lying or cheating, but our passion is gone.  Now I don’t expect to have the same fireworks we had when we were younger, but a sparkler every once in a while would be great.  I keep thinking about that old saying, if you don’t use it, you lose it.  I think we are almost there.

I have worked up a whole presentation because I know what he’s going to say.  I have broached the subject in a roundabout way before but when Fifty Shades of Grey became the talk of the world, I said it would be fun to try.  “You're ridiculous, and it’s all a fad,” were his words.  Maybe so, but that fad has been on mind for at least forty of my forty-five years.  So tonight, if I do get a chance to talk with him when he brings up that it’s all that damn book’s fault, I’m prepared.  I made a list of all the books I’ve read over the years, all the movies I like to watch over and over, and also a list of the blog sites I’ve visited ever since 50SOG.  To me, it’s definitely a body of proof and not just a fad.

I went about my usual routine, I cleaned up the kitchen, set up the coffee for the morning, planned the next night’s dinner menu and joined him in the family room. As usual he was ensconced in his recliner watching some shoot ‘em up. Before I switched on my tablet to check emails and settled in to read a book, I asked again.

“Honey, remember, I want to talk to you.  Is now a good time?”

“Wait til this program is over, babe and you can have my full attention,”

So, like the good wife I am, I waited until the program was over.  Unfortunately, I saw more of the program than he did because the sounds coming from the recliner were the sounds I recognized from sleeping next to the man for the last twenty-five years.  I got up and turned off the tv manually because the remote was hidden somewhere in the recesses of his chair because God Forbid I should actually be able to touch the damn thing.  I was annoyed. I turned off the lights and went to bed.  ‘He can sleep in that damn chair, I hope he’s so stiff in the morning, he can’t move.  It would serve him right.”

I took a couple of Tylenol PM’s and crawled into bed.  Sometime during the night, I realized he was beside me when I felt his hand reaching for mine.  I ignored him and rolled over. 

I was usually up before him in the morning.  I make the coffee and set out the breakfast things.  He was a big breakfast person.  Not today, though.  I was still in bed when his alarm went off.  When I still wasn’t up when he got out of the shower, I could tell he was concerned.

When he saw my eyes open, he asked if I was okay.  “I’m fine,” I answered and made no move to get up. He came over to me, bent down to give me a kiss and laid his hand on my forehead.  “You don’t feel warm.” 

“I told you I was fine.”

“Well, it’s just unusual for you to be still in bed.   How come you didn’t wake me when you came upstairs?”

I gave no response.

“Honey, talk to me,” he told me

“Talk to you, I wanted to speak to you last night.  You knew that.  I even reminded you after dinner, and you said when the program was over.  Well, guess what, the program ended, and you were fast asleep, just like every other damn night.  So, if I don’t feel like talking to you now imagine how I feel every other damn night of the week.”

The longer I spoke, the angrier I became.  Ron did not deal well with conflict.  His response has always been to turn away and come back later.  I think it’s because his parents always went at each other tooth and nail.  I can’t remember him ever engaging in an argument.  Even when the kids were teenagers and disagreed with everything, Ron would leave it up to me to resolve the problem, whatever it was. So I was surprised when he didn’t leave me stewing in my own juices.  In the past, he would have been out of that room in a flash.

“I’m sorry, babe.  I guess I was tired, it was a long stressful day at work.”

There was a time I would feel bad when he issued a statement like that.  That time was long past.  The entire time the kids were growing up I worked full time and still took care of the house with little help from him.  I knew all about stressful days at work.  It was easier now because there were only the two of us, but I still worked full-time and tended to the house and his needs.  Now that we were better off financially, we had someone to take care of the yards, and any repair work was hired out.

“Ladeeda.  I also worked all day Ron and then came home and cooked dinner and cleaned up afterward.  I don’t want to live like this anymore Ron. Sometimes, I think I’d be better off living alone, it would be a lot less work and I don’t think I’d be any more lonely.”

“Honey, don’t say that.  You are my world, and I couldn’t live without you.”

“I’m sure you think that, but you know you could hire someone to cook your meals, clean your house and do your laundry.  They wouldn’t make any demands on your time.”

He crossed the room, and I thought here he goes, out the door.  Instead, he unplugged his cell phone and pressed the buttons, and I heard him say.  “Henry, I’ll be late today.  Unless you hear differently, I won’t be in at all.  No, just some personal things I need to take care of.”

He looked at me and said he was all mine for the day.  I was shocked.  I couldn’t remember him ever taking a day off.  I asked for his phone and called my office and told them I’d see them the next day.

“Let me get a shower, and then let’s hop in the car and head toward the beach.”

“Sounds good, I’ll go turn on the coffee,” he told me.

Now that the moment was upon me, I hope I didn’t get cold feet.  I thought about all I wanted to say as the water cascaded down my body. My hair would frizz at the beach anyway, so I let it dry naturally, dressed casually in a sundress and sandals and headed downstairs.  Ron had my juice and coffee set out and excused himself.  When he came back down, he had changed into shorts and a golf shirt.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

“For the talk or the excursion.” I asked

“Both.”

“I want to talk about what’s happening to us and I’d rather wait until we’re in the car. That way I know you won’t be able to disappear if it gets too uncomfortable.”

“Honey, I promise.  I’ll listen no matter where, okay.”

“Okay, here goes.  I’ve brought this up before and you poo poo’d it, but Ron, this isn’t anything new for me.  I’ve always been turned on by the thought of being spanked. I know you think it has something to do with 50SOG but you’re wrong.  That only brought it to the forefront.  I’m not the only one, lots of women feel this way.  I’ve made a list of some internet sites you can check.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want a list of rules and regulations, I just want you to take me over your knee and spank my butt when I ask or when you think it would improve things.”

“You want me to spank you.” His tone was incredulous.

“Basically, yes.  I think it will lead to all kinds of improvement in our sex lives and our lives in general.  As least, according to what I’ve read.”

“But, honey.  I never even spanked the kids.  How could you think I could spank you?”

“I want you to try.  You don’t have to be perfect, I wouldn’t know the difference. There are all kinds of sites on UTube and we could practice.  Think about me being bare assed laying over your knee and you pinking my bottom.  Isn’t that a turn on?”

“When you say it like that, yes.  But I would be afraid of hurting you.”

“Honey, it’s my ass we’re talking about.  I have plenty of padding. Think of the times you’ve been so frustrated with me.  Wouldn’t you love to take me across your knee and lay into my ass?  Think of how much frustration you could expel.”  He laughed.

“If you think it’s important and it’s what you want, I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask.  Want to try now, before we even take off, because just the thought of being over your knee has made me horny as hell.”

He took my hand and led me to the couch in the family room.  He sat down and pulled me across his knee.  “You’re sure.” 

“Yes, I’m sure.”  I felt the first tenuous spank.  It barely registered.  The next one followed and it was a little harder but still it wouldn’t have killed a mosquito.

“I’m not going to break honey, that crack has always been there.” Even though I couldn’t see, I could feel his mirth.

“It’s statements like that, that is going to make this so much easier” He said and spanked again.  I felt that one, and the next one and the one after that.  He found his rhythm and it wasn’t long before I was utzing around on his lap.  In a move he must have remembered from high school gym days, he wedged my panties into my ass crack and now I was feeling the full effect of the spanking.  Although, it hurt like hell I was smiling.  The sound and feel of flesh on flesh was something I had been craving for most of my life.  Ron seemed to be hitting his stride and I could feel his erection growing and knew he was as turned on as me.  He kept spanking but his other hand was exploring my wetness and I was moaning with pleasure from his fingers and his hand.  The next thing I knew, he rolled me onto the couch and yanked off my panties.  I reached for his zipper and in a flash he was in me and thrusting hard and fast.  Seconds later, he came with a vengeance. ‘Sweet Jesus’, he yelled.

When I was able to formulate a coherent thought, I thanked E L James.  I had a feeling things would just keep getting better between Ron and I.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.