Welcome back, Mr. D. :-)

I missed you. 

It had been a month to the day since I last saw Mr. D. Granted, I spent a lot of that month being sick, between my stomach episodes and this raging cold. But still, there was a gaping hole in each week.

Sadly, his mom passed away this past weekend. However, he and his family gave her a lovely send-off; she was in end-stage hospice at his sister's home, and several of them had gathered on Saturday. Mr. D played the guitar and sang to her, and at the end of the second song, she peacefully slipped away. 

I wasn't expecting to play today; I figured he was just dropping by and we'd talk, catch up. I was still coughing and sniffling and didn't feel very spankable. (Who feels attractive when they have a cold??) So we chatted for an hour or so, and he told me all that had been going on. I surprised him with a piece of chocolate cake with a candle in it, a card and a gift card to REI Co-op (Friday had been his birthday, after all). And then he said, "I think your bottom wants to feel my hand."

Oh, yes. It really, really did.

Yes, I'm a dork. I was wearing thick black socks. My feet were freezing.

The hand spanking was nirvana. Damn, but I love that so much; the solid feel of his hand, the sound, his voice. I didn't think I'd be able to take much, what with having been sick and not being spanked for a month, but I absorbed it greedily and wanted more. Even the "thuds" were welcome. You guys know what I mean -- the occasional slaps that don't meet the flesh quite right and make a dull thud instead of a crisp smack. Mr. D knows right away. "Sorrrrry, thud!" he says. Today, he apologized, saying he "stubbed his thumb." Har har.

I did cough some. But he'd make sure I was OK, check in with me. I didn't want him to stop.

We moved on to implements. OK, that's when I couldn't take much. Ow, ow, ow. Everything hurt like crazy, so much so that he lightened up just a little, just enough so I could sink into it again. Then, sneakily, he ramped it up again.

Still, I was crying out "please, please" before too long. He paused. "I know, baby," he said. "I know you think you can't take any more. But I know you want to take more." Reluctantly, I nodded. "And this is what you need, isn't it?" I nodded again.

"Tell me," he gently pressed, continuing. "Tell me you need it."

"YES," I blurted. "I need it, I need it." Once the tears started, he knew I was done. The tissue in my hand was now a crumpled and soggy rag.

It was a chilly night here, and I hadn't put the heat on in the bedroom. The comforter and blankets bundled up around me felt good, as did his soothing.

He couldn't stay long tonight; he's behind on his work and still fielding phone calls and texts and all sorts of details. It's OK. There will be other times for dinner, for spanking marathons, for lingering. A couple of hours was just right for this reunion.

Besides, I was still pink two hours after he left. :-)

In other news, John and I spent the weekend hacking and sniffling at each other. What a pair we made. We took turns pampering each other and did little more than eat meals out, run a few errands and flop in front of the TV, bundled up in blankets. I think I slept better than he did, though. John doesn't like to take OTC cold meds. Me? I have no such reservations. I took a shot of Nyquil each night and I was out. (Did you know it's 10% alcohol?) Still, sick as he's been, he remembered to surprise me with early Valentine's Day roses. ♥ They arrived Sunday evening after I came home. I sure hope to hell we're both better by this weekend so we can celebrate! I'm going to bake brownies for him.

I think, maybe, some balance has been restored, finally. Thank you, Mr. D. I'm so sorry for your loss. You were a wonderful son, loving and caring. You can be proud of that for the rest of your days.