Thursday, 4 June 2009

Prince Charming? Not even a frog in sight.

Hello you consumers of rampant tragedy.
Back At Alistair's today, the building work is still too noisy at my place. I didn't see him yesterday, as I had left by the time he got home. He arrived at the usual time today, and has now popped out to pick up the ex. She was out meeting yet another of the entourage, and now requires that she be picked up from the station. Not even the local station. I can't tell if that irks me because it is selfish, or because I would never dream of asking for such things, yet secretly wish I could. Well, it can be both, I suppose. Anyway, I thought I would steal this moment to document what happened, and to pour out my latest boo-hoos.
He came into the office and there were brief hugs and kisses, then he went to get some cigarettes... He doesn't really smoke, but he keeps a supply of lovely, slender, elegant cigarettes for the ladies. Such a cad. I smoke a little, and whenever I am around, he uses the excuse. He likes to puff on it as I hold it for him. It is better to do this when alone, because if she sees him smoking with me, she berates him.
He discussed what we will be doing on Saturday, and also informed me that one of our friends asked him out on a date (one he has yet to play/fuck, but has been intending to do so since January), but that he refused her because he was seeing me. Bravo. Gold star. Applause. A medal for doing the right thing and not acting like a cock. Am I being unfair here? Come on boys, let me know.
He still wants us to go away for the weekend, but denies this is because he feels bad for going away with her my hour of need... He says it is because he would like to be alone with me. No kidding, because this Saturday, the ex will be spending a large chunk of time in the house with an entourage of four. And she will want to use the dungeon with them, because she just isn't into sex and play anymore... Well, she justifies this by saying that she does it to please men. She may speak the truth, but I am inclined to wonder why such an assertive, uncompromising woman who doesn't suffer fools (and actually rarely suffers anyone), would do this? So how wonderful. We will go away. Would we have gone away if our plans mattered, and others had to work around us for once? I say : nay, nay, nay. Please tell me I am being unfair.
And of course, we fucked.
As we sat on the sofa underneath the window, he eased up my skirt. At this point, I wish I could say that I was wearing knickers, but alas. I tried to maintain our conversation as he gently rearranged my bosom so that my breasts protruded out of my bra and over my vest. Before I could blink, I was straddling him, and he was inside of me... And I have to say that this was one of the few moments where I think I just wanted a hug. Very unusual for me, but every now and then, we begin to touch and I get a wave of romantic futility wash over me. Where is this all going? Where can it go? If I was not an atheist, I would pray to god to stop me loving him... (Shhhh, on the off-chance I am wrong, I may actually have already tried that...)
There was, however, a brief window in the hurt caused by some physical hurt... Of the right kind, but unintentinal. As I rode his cock, Alistair was biting my nipples, and I jerked away playfully and caught myself on his deliciously sharp teeth. I yelped, and he was much more bothered than I, and repeatedly apologised... Then I saw why. Blood had been drawn, and a droplet fell on my arm. A wide smile played across my lips. Hot, hot hot. Please let him lap up the blood, I thought. Please oh please oh please. Incidently, we have both been tested and are perfectly healthy. Sadly, he told me to go get a tissue. How utterly disappointing. Insult was added to injury when he expected me to clean my juices off his cock. I voiced my displeasure, but he told me not to disobey him in that voice of his. And well, we all know how this one ended.
And we all know how it is going to end overall, and it 'aint good.
I would say that in two days I may well be writing this from a delightful weekend destination. Sadly, I have a feeling that nothing will be arranged, and we will end up locking ourselves in his room so that we won't be disturbed, and they can have their Saturday just as they planned it, culminating in the dungeon. I feel so important.


  1. Play the game, Maisie, play the game. If you're not getting what you want, use your newly found manipulative bitching skills...

  2. Thank you, stranger... I shall surely try. The sad truth is that my bitching skills belong to Courtney. I am nothing without his guiding hand. I hang my head in shame.


You kiss your mother with that mouth?