Things are better. They weren’t bad before, but I do not like being unnecessarily disappointed, and my boy had disappointed me unnecessarily. I don’t like to be cold. I live in New England, so it is something I am used to confronting, but in general, I don’t like the prolonged cold. When my kids were young, I embraced it. We skied often, went ice fishing, owned a fleet of snowmobiles, had a sledding hill on our property. We practically OWNED winter. But now those kids are all grown, the downsizing took place, I moved back to the city, and winter feels like a whole different animal. I just don’t like it as much, and it takes skill to get through it.
Part of that skill set is to not be unnecessarily cold and damp, especially when at home.
That is why my boy disappointed me. He enabled the cold to seep into our cozy home, without invitation. That is why he got caned. That is why there will be more punishment to come…..on a different day, when we are guaranteed to not disturb a roommate.
My point in writing today is not revisit the disappointment, but rather to express my joy in getting past it. My boy fixed the problem. He owned his mistake. He got lucky that the gas company was able to fill us up the next day, problem resolved. Neither one of us like to dwell on the past, when the past is less than pleasant. So, we moved on.
Last night I had dinner plans with a friend, and I returned home deeply exhausted. I am an early riser, so by 10pm, I make a bee-line for bed. I like taking my boy with me. I like his body next to mine. I love the times when he pets my body until I fall asleep, and he quietly slips away to enjoy some alone time in a quiet house. I am glad he has those moments. But I also like when we slumber together. Last night, I wanted time with him. Not TV time, not sexual time, but nurturing time. I knew exactly what I wanted…..for him to read out loud to me before bed. I love when he does this. His voice is smooth, quiet and strong. He gives life to the stories he reads me, and I love being pressed up against him, his cock buried in my enclosed hand, and he reads. He chose a rather long story from Literotica, one that was very well written and captivating. It left my mind wandering and inspired. It stimulated more than it soothed, but still, sleep found me soon after. I like writing our own story. I like that we are a story……ever unfolding, always emerging, nowhere near the end. The rather insignificant heat issue had a happy ending. And that’s good. I like happy endings.