In the Pink

I sobbed like a baby, and he stroked my hair. I didn't know where the tears had come from, but my eyes were mirroring my cunt as far as the quantity of liquid seeping from them was concerned.

Mid-session, (post cuddle-time, first nagla) having moved from lying enfolded in his arms to a more supine position that he wanted me to be in so that I was both lying on the large and spreading wet spot, plus he had the best access to the parts of me he loves to feel.

The burst of tears came from nowhere -- I have no idea where and more to the point, no idea why. But come they did, much as I had a few minutes earlier -- spontaneously, copiously and gushingly.

In response to the quizzical blue twinkle directed my way, over the sexiest pair of glasses I know, i sobbed and shook, eventually managing to blurt out "I don't know, I just don't know!"

He stroked my hair calmingly. "Easy, tigress... Easy. "

He seemed less surprised than I was at my spontaneous outpouring of emotion.

"The intensity invoked by the kind of thundering orgasms you've been experiencing is huge -- not that this is or should be news to you, nor does it necessarily result in a bout of weeping. But combine that with the stress of organising tonight's event -- which would be stressful even if it were not a voluntary endeavour -- plus the other stresses that you're currently going through -- and crying is the very least that can be expected."

I paused, and considered as I sniffled.

"You may have a point, Big Bad Cat. "

He smiled and twinkled at me again. "Thank you, dear."

He continued. "Just.... take it easy, Tabby. Relax."

He moved on top of me once again and folded his limbs around mine, rendering me restrained and unable to move. Not that I in any way cared or would have even thought of complaining. I'm happy enough to be restrained by cuffs and ropes, but when they're replaced by the arms, legs and lest I forget, tongue of the evillest cat in the yard, then I'm in seventh heaven.

I lay there, blanketed by warm, loving cat. My gasps and hiccups gradually subsided back to normal breathing, as I felt his breath on my skin, and his soft lips kissing their way up my neck.

Sinead O'Connor's voice floated through my head... "tears from the moon, fall down like rain." Outside my window, no rain was in evidence, and there were no more tears.

I breathed.

It occurs to me that the luxury of being emotionally available and open with a partner is not to be underestimated. The joy I experience at his hand almost belies description -- although not quite, which is good, else there'd be no blog posts for you, gentle reader. And this is not to mention the joy I experience from his tongue, and body, and flogger, and mind, and .

But the joy of being completely myself with him, with no pretences, no fear of exposure, no bullshit... is truly beyond elaboration of any nature.

Counting my blessings is becoming a daily exercise here at Von Schtupp Central. 😄