Back to Basics

We were going to Motown Monday.

“Are you trying to be romantic with me?!” I asked with a grin as we drove over to the bar.


Ugh, my joke was lost on him. Or, it wasn’t a joke, it was more of a desire wrapped up in a light hearted tone just in case he thought that the implication was ridiculous. The implication being: let’s fuck in the bathroom.

Clearly, he wasn’t picking up what I was putting down. Which made me feel slightly sour because our fifth fuckiversary is coming up at the end of this month or some time in the next month (I’ll have to check the logs to know for sure) – did he completely forget? Is it just a coincidence that he’s taking me to Motown Monday circa our 5th fuckiversary? Or is he just playing it cool because he’s going to surprise me with some bathroom dick in the very same bathroom where we first had sex five years ago?

We sat at the bar, and he pulled out his phone and scrolled through Amazon in search of new work out equipment. I sat there next to him, drinking my whiskey with my tits popping out, feeling too pretty for a dive like this. It felt like a pretty authentic recreation of our original dynamic five years ago: me being thirsty and overdone, him ignoring me. I slid my hand onto his thigh and said, “Hey.”

“I’m looking at this right now,” he said. Oh, god, this is getting cruelly authentic. Five years ago I tried to pull the same move, vying for his attention, and he had shut me down pretty hard. But I’m a motivated woman, so when he went upstairs, I followed him, this time as well as that first time, and into the bathroom. Where he talked to his friend for twenty minutes.


He didn’t even try to fuck me in the bathroom!

I mean, I guess we did go home together, so at least I got that going for me. But we didn’t even fuck because ‘somebody’ chafed their frenulum.

“If we have sex, I could tear my frenulum, and apparently that’s really painful, so probably best to just wait it out.”

“Oh, so I might break your dick?”

“Yeah, and apparently it can get really bloody, too.”

“Really! That’s so cool! Wait – is that a come on? Cuz fucking you til your dick bleeds sounds…pretty fucking hot to me.”

“No, I’m serious, it’s gonna be a couple days.”

“Wow, so you’re just going to rob me of the chance to break  your dick and have it shoot blood all over the place? This is my one opportunity to hop off and know that I’m not the one bleeding everywhere.”

After lengthy conversation, I realized that this wasn’t a come on or his attempt at upper level kink. Heart breaking! It was actually a legitimate medical condition. So I tried not to be an asshole about it, and I respected his boundaries. But we fought every day after that because we are not fun to be around when we’re not getting laid.

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