Timing's Off

M's comment: This is a factual account.

R's account:

"Looks to me as though your timing's off." Smiling, she leaned in to kiss me, her fingertips closing on the erection now trapped in the thin fabric of my shorts.

"Well, I did have a few..."

"No way. No excuses..."

She'd breezed in only a few seconds previously, all in yellow -- and rose-cheeked from the past hour of exercise. She'd also enjoyed catching me off guard, again, for the second time in the day, her smile bright and the gorgeous eyes twinkling -- as I rose to meet her, embracing her for a kiss.

"Are you finished?"

I tried to explain. "C'mon, I had to complete one document, cook the dinner -- well, heat up the two dinners -- and..."

"But it doesn't look as though the story is finished." She'd cut me off, peering somewhat theatrically at the computer monitor.

"Well, it's hard to say when a story is finished..."

"No, it's not."

True though that might be, I tried again. "I only had an hour."

All she did was shake her head, smiling. "You asked me for a scenario for a story you could write while I was working out. You didn't finish it."

"You added cooking the pizza..."

"No-no," shaking her head, smiling, "Print what's there and let's see if it's finished. Go on, print it."

"But..."

"Print it."

Reaching around, smiling, I slapped her playfully on the firm tight butt.

Reaching around, she slapped me back. "I'm not sure you should have done that." Still smiling, she slapped my butt again. "Go on, print it..."

I did. Print it. Then I had to leave the room, go downstairs to collect the hardcopy -- bring it back upstairs: cock and balls moving and swaying inside the shorts both ways. She sat reading it while I fished one meal from the oven, the second from the microwave. By which time, she was shaking her head again -- smiling brightly...

I should back up, probably, to explain it had been a warmish, certainly humid day. So I'd been schlepping around the house -- well, working actually, and quite hard as it happened -- in shorts only -- as in a fairly tight pair of lululemon shorts, period -- for much of the day.

Which is how she found me when she popped in unexpectedly mid-afternoon.

Which is what triggered off the twinkling eyes -- and the diabolical mind. And the playful wrestling while she tried to get me out of the shorts. And failed.

Which led to the bet...

Which is how we'd come, full circle, to ...

"Looks to me as though your timing's off all the way around." Smiling, as you know, still rosy cheeked and dressed in her yellow exercise gear, as she leaned in to kiss me, her fingertips closing on the erection now trapped in the thin fabric of my shorts.

"Well, I did have a few..." I'd tried to protest.

Only to be interrupted. "No way. No excuses..."

Then I had a thought. "But. Look, you gave me a title -- Timings Off. But that wasn't actually the scenario -- at least not the whole scenario..."

She had this intriguing way of tilting her head, eyes twinkling. Combined with the fingertips massaging my erection, I'm afraid this was enough to throw me off. Blood not reaching the correct place for thought, that kind of thing.

"Go on. I'm waiting."

"Of course. Look." I cleared my throat. "Ummh, where?...yes, here's the scenario -- well, part of it, another part of it." I fished it off the island, and began to unfold, uncrumple really the tiny piece of paper. It was the balled up note she had selected before leaving for exercise "Here."

"Read it to me."

"Sure. Umh."

Her fingertips had slipped inside the thick elastic holding up my shorts. She had this way of just brushing over flesh.

"I'm waiting," she prompted, smiling. Her fingertips were unerring in their movements.

"Buy a vowel" I read from the paper, trying not to go up on tiptoes, or in voice. To no avail in either instance. I seized up the other crumpled note she'd selected and read: "Negotiate some way to 'negotiate' a change of 'square' (i.e., PASS on a particular activity) as a last resort (preferably before) the day actually begins", and I added, "And there's a little happy face on this one."

"I picked the buy a vowel square...is that right? So that's the rest of the scenario?"

"Yes." Knowing I was cooked -- that I hadn't got to the buy a vowel stuff in the story, I smiled and said: "I'll take E."

She also had this seriously cute eyebrow cock. It complements the smile.

"E is the most popular vowel in the English language." It was worth a try. Humour.

She chuckled. "But I think there's a little more involved... doesn't it say something about negotiate?" Her hands were stretching the elastic. "In fact, doesn't it say preferably the day before? Meaning if you weren't going to complete the story you should have negotiated with me yesterday. Of course you didn't."

Swallowing, I watched as my shorts descended to the ground.

"Now fetch the box."

There was no point in protesting. She was going to win.

So it was all about swaying, and jouncing, completely free now, and wondering -- and finding the box -- and coming back, swaying and jouncing and wondering. Sweating. Slipping the box on the island.

Watching as she reached in and pulled out the flogger.

It's only a toy really. Not a serious weapon. But your cock and balls are sensitive. (Pardon me, your penis and testicles -- her preferred terms. And the terms she insisted I use in requesting where she direct her next blow).

And she was learning to snap it! So three to the penis had me gasping the plea of 'testicles' -- and three to the testicles had me begging me 'penis please, penis please.'

Which she ignored. Picking her own spots. Evidently really enjoying my reaction when she connected flush to the engorged tip, and again, and again... and it was a sharp bite, very sharp... and she did pause to check no actual damage was being done before continuing until I was grateful when she demanded I roll over, easing my burning penis and testicles on the cool surface of the island. While she worked over my rump and lectured me on how a task was a task and how I really should've just given her the shorts earlier in the afternoon and how when she finally decided to stop I would have 30 minutes to complete the writing assignment. To her satisfaction.

I wrote standing at the island while she sipped wine, took the odd pic -- relishing the red skin and marks of her handiwork. She had me pose outrageously at one stage.

I made it, sweating, with two minutes to spare.

She approved this account. Then instructed me to post it here, as our first story...

M's note: this isn't really our first story. We've been together almost two years and exploring almost from the start. There are more stories if you're interested.