And not for the one who suffers from the disorder, either. No…no…he sleeps just fine – right through all of his groping and all of my smacking and grumbling and annoyance.
Mr. LL has been working late recently – a weird shift that has him coming home around 11 p.m. after I’m already in bed. After his nightcap and his cool-down – sitting on the couch surfing the net, he moseys into the bedroom and fills in his side of the bed.
About an hour later…it begins – with flourish, I might add. The disembodied hand slides between my legs. I push it away. It reaches over my hip and tries a more direct approach. I smack it. He rolls over.
A few minutes later, the hand is back, only now it’s brought reinforcements – another hand and 2 arms…a torso…an erect cock poking into my backside.
I smack the hands back…and the arms…and push the rest away –
I hear murmurs of unaware apology.
It’s not that I don’t want to fuck my husband. But, after I’ve been asleep for a few hours, I’m just too tired to care. And after 3 nights of this, I’m glad to have a few days of normal evening “togetherness”. He’s a lot less likely to seek me out blindly in his sleep if he’s sexually satiated earlier.
It’s 8:30, and I’m ducking out early to catch some shut eye before my beloved returns.
But, I wanted to bid you all Happy Thursday beforehand…
P.S. So, I ended up staying up late anyway to work on some holiday projects, as I’m feeling guilty about them and am running out of time very quickly. Mr. LL came home and wondered why I was still up. We have a little while to catch up after 4 days of seeing little of each other. Before I headed off to bed at around midnight (ugh), he asked if he came to bed now…was the “store still open”? Yes it is, my dear. And…as expected, Mr. LL slept like a baby – a bit snugglier than I prefer (I end up sleeping on the edge of the bed, body-hugged to immobility). But, that’s an improvement, eh? And this morning, I can’t blame my fatigue on him completely. But, I can blame holiday preparations. Dammit. Maybe I should have just bought gifts…would’ve been a helluva a lot quicker. But alas, the homemade is always more heartfelt and usually appreciated more.