I was absentmindedly washing the dishes when she hit me.
Actually, I wasn’t totally absent minded, I was thinking about my back and how I had to bend over to wash dishes all the time and wouldn’t it be nice if kitchen counters were adjustable when all of a sudden… thwack!
You never know how you will react when somebody hits you. You might get angry and hit back – a defensive reflex. You might run – another reflex, or perhaps recoil in shock and try to make sense of the situation. Or, depending on who is hitting you and what with, you might laugh.
In this case it was my lover armed with a bedroom pillow. For no reason.
I turned around my frothy hands raised in mock self defence, “What was that for?” Her answer: another thwack.
Now the pillow is mine, dark with wet, soapy handprints. Now she is laughing and I’m chasing. Now I’ve got her back against the couch. Now she goes over, legs akimbo, bum exposed. My turn to thwack.
The more I hit, the more she laughs. I move around to the other side of the couch, she’s exactly 180 degrees from how most people sit on a couch and I’m going for her ankles. No more pillow, time for a real spanking.
She’s grabbing at my chest. Then my jeans, tugging at the waistband when the first button pops. We both stop laughing. My hand freezes in mid thwack as the other buttons flit open and she slowly puts me in her mouth.
We’re definitely not laughing now. I’m breathing like a prank caller, my hands gripping the back of the couch as I sink into the moist marshmallow of her mouth.
I’m think about how long it’s been, why now, what could I have done to deserve this rare gift, and why is it so rare anyway. I think maybe it was careers, or the kids, or… or… and then I’m not thinking at all. Just shaking, convulsing. Afraid of crushing her, but too lost in my own body to do anything about it.
It’s all breath and heartbeats as she worms her way out from underneath me and grasps the damp pillow off the floor. I collapse into the couch like a king on a throne.
She hits me again, softer this time, and I’m helpless as this wonderful woman, who will someday be my wife, snuggles in, head on my lap, hand in my crotch cupping me firmly.
And in those fleeting few moments of absolute clarity a man can only experience after orgasm, I realize how much I’ve won.
Note: This whole story is made up and was written long before I met my ol’ lady. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. But very cool if it happens.