Kneeling before Him...



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Friday, April 09, 2004

Mac is sick. He has some sort of bug, 24-hour thing He says. Of course going to the doctor is out of the question. He isn't on His deathbed yet. Heaven only knows what He actually thinks the doctor is going to do to Him, but He tells me to stop fussing, He will be fine.

Apparently though getting Him a more comfy pillow and another blanket, bringing Him drinks and paracetamol, fixing Him a light lunch that He could eat while snuggled up, and listening to Him whine about how sick He is, is not fussing. Those are just my duties as the girl that loves Him. (Nods.)

He is quite funny when He is ill. If He weren't in such obvious pain, I would find the whole thing amusing. For someone that plays a big rough Male game, He is a big girls blouse when it comes to pain. He often tells people that He has to have an epidural to have His nails trimmed. And He is not the only rugby player I know that has a low pain tolerance, yet they get out on the field and bash each other around. Men! Go figure.

When W/we were first dating, He had to have a tooth pulled. He called me when He got home and moaned about it for an hour. I sat on my couch laughing myself silly at Him and I could hear the scowling in His voice. That was when I started to call Him my Growly Old Bear. He kept telling me to shut up, that I was supposed to have some sympathy for Him. I asked Him how He was going to handle it when the anaesthetic wore off. He told me He was really going to piss and moan about it then. I asked whom He was going to piss and moan about it to and He was surprised.

'You, of course.'

I think that was His way of saying 'I love you'. Lucky me.

Actually, I shouldn't complain. That day after W/we had been talking for an hour W/we hung up to live O/our days and less then 30 minutes later He was knocking at my door. His mouth did look swollen and sore. His lips were still numb but He kissed me anyway. The pain didn't dampen His lust at all and He dragged me to the couch and bent me over it. He slid inside me easily; the phone conversation with Him had left me dripping even though W/we hadn't talked about sex.

My arousal did not go unnoticed. He grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head back.

'So my horny little cumslut, what has you so hot and wet?' He never stopped sliding His cock in and out of me. I blushed furiously and tried to shake my head because I didn't want to say. He laughed, adoring my inability to tell Him what had turned me on even while He filled me.

'Tell me whore. Tell me what it is that keeps you so aroused.' He was laying over me now, pressing my hips painfully into the arm of the couch, His mouth at my ear, His fingers still tangled in my hair. Again I shook my head no. The fingers on His other hand found my nipple and pinched it hard. I writhed against the couch trying to get away and trying to push myself into His fingers, onto His cock.

'Tell me' He hissed and I screamed out 'You' while I came, trying to grind my clitoris into the couch. I could hear His breath catching and my body took over, clenching and sucking at His cock until it pulsed and spilt deep inside me.

I kept clenching my muscles on Him while He softened. I giggled every time He groaned. He kissed my neck.

'You really are a horny little bitch, aren't you?'

I made Him lunch, fresh bread and soup. He ate like He hadn't eaten in a week. When He had finished off half a loaf of bread and two bowls of soup and I was packing away the things from the table, I noticed that He had somehow managed to get blood from His tooth on the bread. I complained.

He told me to shut up and pulled me into His lap. I was just wearing His shirt and He was just in a pair of jeans and He slid His fingers inside me while He kissed me. Then He took the mixture of my juices and His semen and smeared it over my ass and pressed a finger inside me and I knew what He wanted and I shivered. He smiled at me, the lazy sly smile of a man that knows He is going to get exactly what He wants.

I was lying against the table, my cheek pressed against the cloth looking at the spot of blood on the bread while He fucked my ass. I remember thinking that it can't get better, that I couldn't love Him more than this, that I couldn't lust Him or want Him or need to please Him anymore than I did at that moment. I was so at peace, so content, so filled with delight that nothing could have made it better, then He came and it was better.

He pulled me back into His lap and brushed the breadcrumbs off my cheek. I asked Him if maybe W/we might have sex in the bed at some stage and He laughed. Then He told me jokes until I was crying with laughter. He ended up staying the night. W/we were so newly in love. It was a day full of love and lust and pure delight in each other (and of course more pissing and moaning about the pain.) Christ, I miss Him and He is just across the hall sleeping.

Last night I was sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom reading Jean M. Auel's The Valley of the Horses (I bought it months and months ago and misplaced it. I found it while packing.) Mac was sleeping off His illness and I was probably watching Him at least as much as I was reading. He is so truly beautiful when He sleeps. He makes my heart ache. I started thinking about Him touching me and before long my fingers were sneaking down into my panties. As soon as I touched myself my thoughts turned to Emma. I imagined stroking her hair while Her tongue flicked lightly over my clitoris and the softness of her cheeks against my thighs. I felt her lips on me and I saw her eyes watching me and I came.

I am not sure if I whimpered or maybe it was just the shifting of the chair but when I opened my eyes, Mac was watching me, smiling. He asked what I was thinking of and I told Him Emma and I fought back tears. He told me to 'come here' and I did, lying next to Him carefully in case His muscles were still aching. I helped Him slide my panties down to my knees and He touched me, more with curiosity than with any lust. He likes to feel me when I am all slippery and wet. I watched Him while He played for a short while, then He brought His fingers to my mouth and I sucked me off them. His eyes were sparkling in spite of the fact that He was sick. He told me that He couldn't promise that I wouldn't get hurt, because no one can promise that, but He promised that whatever happened He would be there to hold my heart together, just like He always has.

I thanked Him and I kissed Him softly and played with His hair until He fell asleep again. (Playing with His hair always puts Him to sleep. My little Neanderthal. Smiles.)

It's awful when someone you love is sick.

Posted by Sarah McBroden at 7:36 am

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