DISCLAIMER: Sexy bits ahead, beware thou loins!
When synchronicity strikes my relational field it rings the bell of my heart like a song echoing between mountain ranges. Yesterday was one such—RRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNGG—Max struck the lip of the singing bowl of my pelvis with such intentionality that a miracle happened. Something unprecedented…but I won’t skip the pleasure of the journey…that would be a loss.
So…yesterday. I was writing, taking care of my girl, and thinking all day. Max was frustrated that I wasn’t putting out immediately like he wanted, rooting around in my energy body for dropped treats like a hornDAWG, trying to pull me into the sheets. Oh, I wanted to, but I had stuff to do, gotta be a good mom, and keep the house clean. I don’t want to lose my family, so…go to work woman!
As I was cleaning the kitchen and feeding the girl I thought about my husband’s lovemaking from the night before. He was very good, covering all the bases with joy, and he became rather fixated on eating my ass. I chuckled as I washed the dishes. I have a lovely vintage Japanese fired clay dish set that has a real nice weight to it. Then I realized, “Wait! Max has never eaten my ass has he?” I thought about it…traveling down the recursive memory…..hum…..I don’t think so.
