Before I go anywhere, this post uses a common acronym of PTSD and modifies it to a less serious situation. No offense is intended to anyone who experiences PTSD for any reason. One may also think I am making like of sexual abuse, but I assure you I am not, I’m making light of the horniness of myself and the soreness of my partner. The post follows after the jump in case people do not want to continue reading.
This past weekend was the first weekend in which we had the house to ourselves, no kids, no roommates, no guests and no plans to really go anywhere. We made a plan to meet one person for dinner Saturday, which you’ve likely read about. Our weekend was filled with beautiful downtime, beautiful sexy time and lots of laughing and joy.
Having no such impediments to our sexy time, I likely took unfair advantage of my Mistress and she was gracious over most of the couplings we had, allowing me access. After the first 4 or 5 times we fucked, I’d start to get a look in my eyes and she’s say something like “You want to do it again, don’t you!” To which I would smile that smile I had almost all weekend long. At one point, I came up to her in the kitchen and approached her, that look in my eye, reaching for her shoulders and she flinched. “What’s up with that?”
“You. You… flinched?”
“I just know what you’re coming for… I’m sore.”
“So, what, is this some PTSD from fucking? Some kind of PTFD? Post traumatic fucking disorder?” Then I thought better of it, as we weren’t engaging in traumatic events (well, aside from the beating I took Saturday!) but it was a pretty terrific fucking. I revised my suggestion. “Post terrific fucking disorder?” I quipped. She laughed harder than she had already laughed with the previous idea.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Well, it’s not traumatic, is it?”
“No, it’s not. But… ” she paused. “You’re insatiable. You’re… a machine or something. Some kind of robocock or something” I laughed.
PTFD from a Robocock. And while I’m pretty sure there’s multiple porn movies called Robocock, this had never come up before in our lexicon. We were both amused. We were both entertained. And we both laughed.
And then I bent her over and fucked her again.
It’s worth noting that I do at times suffer some PTSD from an event that happened a few years ago. I still get a shudder of flashback from it and I’ve learned to deal with it, get past it and work through it. I’ve had my counseling and have enough support that it doesn’t get its teeth into me and cause any real problems. I appreciate those that have reactions. Mine is not as severe as many, I’m aware. But I’m cognizant that others have deeper feelings on it.