Smack my bitch up! :(

Ah, Monday morning.  Wake up.  Stretch a bit . Grab a heatpack.  Make a cuppa.  Listen to Daleyacunt hurling abuse and smacking Fuckin’ Fuckhead around.  Again.  Call the cops.  Again. *sigh*… this is getting a bit repetitive.  Fourth call in total, third one on a Monday morning.

It would appear that Monday mornings are quite the stressor for Daleyacunt. This is the third Monday morning smack upside the head for Fuckin’ Fuckhead that has precipitated a phone call to the Police.  Mr K’s turn this time to do the honours.  It seems very likely that Daleyacunt’s Monday morning stressor stems from long term unemployment and his inability to deal the frustrations associated therein.

Monday, the kids are getting ready for school, everyone has somewhere to be, but not him and for some reason this guy feels the need to take his frustration out on his partner. I’d feel sorry for her, but to be honest, she is just as annoying with her constant foul mouthed phraseology as he is.  Nope, she’s got some agency in the situation, regardless of how limited she believes it may be.  It’s the three little kids next door that I feel sorry for, growing up in that environment and absolutely no choice in the matter.

It’s weird you know, I have these stereotypes in my head of the sort of guy who smacks around his wife – he’s a Irish Catholic alcoholic living in South Chicago who comes home drunk every Friday night to his family that haven’t had any dinner because he drank all his paycheck.  Or he’s a big fuck off Maori fella that can’t control his temper and starts wailing on his woman because she’s ‘too bloody lippy’.  Or maybe he’s the mild mannered impotent professor type who no one would ever suspect would harm a fly, but his wife is mighty accident prone.  Well done there, Hollywood.

I hate pleats!

Sewing for festival… again!  This is my fourteenth or fifteenth festival?  I’ve lost count.  But with so many years experience at doing the whole medieval camping thing, you’d think I wouldn’t be spending the weeks leading up to the event slaving over the sewing machine.  Yet… each year there always seems to be something that needs making.  If it’s not banners that need painting, or tabards that need applique work or tents that need decorating (well it probably didn’t need it but it looks fucking speccy!) then it’s people who’ve never done festival before that need outfitting!

medieval tent painted

And OMG, what a trial that is.  Building an entire wardrobe to see someone through a four day medieval camping event, allowing for a few extras in case of rain, and you’ve quite a task at hand.   And it’s always (always!) boy garb.  ‘Tis a rare man who can handle a sewing machine with any expertise and that, ladies, is ever such a shame. Because it means I have well and truly made more men’s medieval garments than I have made women’s garments!

In the past three weeks I’ve made three anglo-saxon tunics, five early period under tunics, two 15thC Burgundian jackets, three late period shirts, one matching hood and a bright red wool 15thC chaperon hat!  I was trying to work out how many of those damn 15thC Burgundian mens jackets I have made, and I believe I have quite literally lost count of how many I have created for my husband, my son, my once consort and a few friends.  So many jackets.  So many simply horrid pleats!

You too, can write smut.

It is the middle of a regular day… you know, 10 o’clock on a Thursday or something.  I have the definite impression that I haven’t seen you for some time and you have just arrived.  You knock on the door and I’ve opened it to let you in , and as you walk through the door, I am just about to say hello and do the normal socially expected niceties of asking how you have been and offer you a coffee etc, – but you cut me off short. You‘ve come right up close to me, until you are standing very close and you place your hand across my lips indicating that you don’t want me to say anything and without a word, you lean your body in towards mine and back me into a wall. I can feel the cold wall at my back and the heat from your chest against my breasts, and hear your breath beside my ear. I give you a quizzical look and start to say something beneath your hand, but you whisper ‘sssshhh’ in my ear, and use your foot to shift my feet apart. I can feel your fingers gently touching my lips while your other hand wastes no time in moving down my body and coming to rest between my legs. Your hand feels warm through my pants and I intake my breath sharply as I feel you starting to apply a pressure that makes my gut clench. Your hand is still covering my mouth to stop me from talking, and you turn my head aside and start to kiss my ear, the side of my neck and my collarbone which feels so erotic… sensual… and full of promises. The sound of your warm breath so close to my ear, sends tingles down my spine, and I close my eyes enjoying the sensations that temporarily override the pain and I inhale deeply. You smell really good.  Your hand rubbing through my jeans has become more insistent and you seem to be grinding the seam of my jeans onto my clitoris, which is making it hard for me to remain standing. Your sudden commanding presence and insistent touch is so unexpected and very arousing, that before long I can feel myself quickly becoming hot and moist. I have given up trying to speak but my lips part and a quiet moan escapes my lips. You take the opportunity to slide your finger past my lips and into my mouth underneath your hand. You slowly explore my lips and my mouth with your finger, and I hear a deep gutteral sound coming from your throat as I softly suck on your finger…

I’m just starting to relax, when you turn me around to face the wall. Your hand is still over my  lips, and the other reaching round to continue the rhythmic rubbing between my legs, only now, I can feel your hard erection pressing into the small of my back, and I push myself back into you, wishing we were already naked and fucking. Your hand slides down from my mouth, down my neck to slip down the front of my top in search of my breasts, and you slip your fingers into my bra to tease my nipple, which sends fresh jolts of sensation to the pit of my stomach. All the while the kisses on the back of my neck are making me melt.  Thoughts of right and wrong or resistance are out the window. I try to turn around to kiss your mouth, but you are pressing firmly yet gently against me, prohibiting me from moving. Instead, you lead my hands behind me so I can feel you straining through your jeans. I am at a bit of a disadvantage with my hands behind my back, but I manage to undo your belt… the button… and finally manage to slowly slide down the zipper on your trousers so I can get my hands on your cock.  I am rewarded for my efforts when I feel your smooth and heated skin under my fingers, and it feels as though you are throbbing to the touch. We still haven’t said a word, and our eyes have barely met…. Your feel so soft, smooth and yet thick and hard in my little hands and I want to turn around, drop to my knees and so I can feel the length of you slide into my mouth, but you are pressing me firmly to the wall and I can’t move. I  eventually slip from your grasp and turn around to face you.  We kiss deeply and intensely, and I gently nip at your bottom lip with my teeth before turning your head to nibble at your earlobes.

We kiss against the wall for what feels like ages, like a couple of horny teenagers behind a school shed – intoxicating  long overdue hedonistic kissing – hands moving every which way. I untuck your shirt and slide my hands underneath to draw my nails down your back before taking firm grasp of your hips and pull you firmly towards me so I can feel your cock pressing hard into my pubic bone. With a small groan you suddenly pull me away from the wall and down onto floor. In a couple of quick movements our clothes are discarded and you kneel on the carpet, poised over me. As you lower your body onto me, I try to wriggle you aside so I can get on top and straddle you, but you aren’t having any of it, and press me back to the floor.  I try again to be above you and this time you let me roll you over until I am sitting astride your body. Excruciatingly slow and deliberate, I move my hips down towards your penis until the tip of you is just inside me. I am wet and horny as hell from this impulsive rendezvous, and you slide inside me easily. I squeeze you tightly with my muscles as I slowly lower myself on you, until I feel all of you deep inside of me. Fuck, it feels so good, you sliding inside me, so smooth… and hot. We fuck slowly for a while, and I let my long hair drape across your shoulders and face and run my nails over your chest enjoying the contours of your body. I cover your face with gentle kisses and nip at your ears whilst sliding up and down your penis slowly and sensuously, feeling every bit of you as you slide in and out of me. All my senses are overtaken with the sensation of your touch, your smell and the intimacy of feeling your cock inside me.

You’re stronger than I am, so when you abruptly decide to move and roll us over, I don’t bother fighting you this time. You start sliding down my body, undoing my shirt and leaving a trail of kisses down my neck until you fasten your lips onto my nipple, teasing and nibbling me ever so gently with your teeth. I feel your fingers sneaking inside me, which make a poor substitute for your cock. You move slowly down until I can feel the heat of your breath hovering over me, and I clench my muscles tightly around your fingers in anticipation of your tongue… I grab and pull at your shoulders to get you to come back up to kiss me, and you can see in my eyes that a tongue is no substitute and I want you back inside me. You position yourself above me, and slowly inch your penis in. You pin my wrists across my breasts with one of your hands to stop me from helping myself, and start rubbing my clit with your other hand, as you lean back and start moving in me. You are fucking me hard and fast, and I can feel the tension building inside me. You start rubbing my clit harder in little circles with your thumb, and my breath starts coming faster and sharper until my muscles feel like they are clamped so tightly around your cock, I’m surprised you can move. The anticipation of the explosion is exquisite, and my orgasm is intense. I quietly groan as a riot colours swim before my vision and a wave of sensation starts in my groin and sweeps over my entire body. I feel spasm after spasm of pleasure shudder through me, but you barely give me a moment to recover when you suddenly withdraw. I can hear your ragged breath as you hold me by the back of my head and roll me over to fuck me from behind. I feel you trying to enter me again, and I shift my hips to accommodate you. With my hands free now, I am at liberty to start rubbing myself. Your fingers are running through my hair and smoothly caressing my back before you grab my hips and start fucking me again. Harder and faster you move until I can feel the sensations of another orgasm building inside me, and I can tell by your moans that you are getting close too. This time, it explodes in my head and radiates down to the pit of my stomach as I hear your groan feel your cock start to spasm.  I feel your hot cum spurting up inside me as my muscles spasm too. You collapse on top of me against my back, pinning me to the floor, our clothes are in disarray as we both try to regain our breath. “Hi” you finally say with a wry grin “I’ve been waiting for that.”

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