I feel like a bad partner.  We thought Mr. D was fully healed but last night we had sex before going out to an event.  I wanted him so badly I practically begged him because it would put us late and I just didn’t care about that.  So, we had fast sex, which was so great.  If I haven’t seen him for a few days I just get wound tight and I’ll do anything to have him inside me.

Sadly, though, his skin tore a little.  He has a sensitive spot that keeps tearing.  I looked it up online and there must be a tiny bit of scar tissue there that keeps ripping when we have sex.  So, ugh.  I think maybe we should let it heal all the way and I should massage the area to try to make the tissue pliable again. Either way, we need to use lube for a while to help the situation.

So, when we returned from the event we knew better than to do anything again.  But was I good?  Nope!  He started touching my neck, putting a light choke hold on me to torment me and damn it I couldn’t stop him.  I went into full sub mode, I don’t seem to have an ounce of control around him. I thought, Okay, he’s teasing me.  we’re trying new things lately, he’s talking to me and touching me, this won’t go further. Next thing I know his hands are inside me and I’m writhing under his fingers. I’m soaked and then he’s on top of me.  I froze.  I knew it would hurt him and so when he pushed into me I dried up.  Can my body really read my damned mind that fast?  Seriously.  

But then he was inside me and my little rebel body didn’t listen to me and I responded to him.  He began to fuck me.  My mind was all over the place.  Slipping into that passionate fuzzy space where all I want is more alternating with nurse mentality watching for any wince from him.  

Shortly he stopped.  “Damn, it stings.”  

I’m worthless to help this situation.  I’m going to have to tie my damned thighs together, I swear.