Mood: Horny, kinky, freezing cold.
Style: Knickers, heels and a scarf.
Mr P’s been working night shifts, which means he gets home as I’m leaving for work and is gone by the time I’m back. This means that our sex life has shifted a bit out of kilter in that we haven’t had sex for 5 days.
Last night,we went out for a few beers. Mr P didn’t have to work today so he was quite up for getting lairy and it never takes much to twist my arm, school night or no.
We got back to our freezing cold gaff (our boiler’s been knackered for 2.5 weeks, so I’m not exaggerating) and started getting down to business.
Now, I truly believe that there is a certain ‘triangle of pissedness’ that both you and your partner must reach for you to both have satisfying, drunken sex.
It’s quite a small triangle and hard to find but when you do, it;’s excellent. You know what I mean: your inhibitions melt away and you find yourselves transported right back to the honeyed days of your honeymoon period. Drink too much and you will either fall asleep, fail to rise or fail to come.
Last night, Mr P had consumed one or two pints too many and was falling into the latter category. However, he was horny, I was horny and so we went for it.
With nightcaps in hand, we excavated the cold stairs to our icy bedroom. Already, my ardour’s dampening. It’s hard to feel sexy when you’re still wearing a scarf and you beau is keeping his socks on for warmth.
So, we’re rolling like thunder under the covers when we hear a thud and realise that a full glass of red wine has been knocked onto our cream carpet. Mr P breaks from the embrace and rushes downstairs to fetch the salt. Wine stain liberally coated, we resume our clinch.
Mr P decides that it would be fun to handcuff me to the bed. All fine and dandy with me, I like a bit of restriction. The handcuffs are the fun kind that are easy to escape from and that every girl owns. The fact that I could easily get free bothered Mr P though and he fetched some thick cable ties from his toolbox. Now, I like a bit of restraint so I was all up for swapping the flimsy handcuffs for a more substantial tool. However, Mr P got a bit over-excited when tying me up and what was fun and kinky became bloody painful. A step down Kinkyville too far for my liking.
So, Mr P had to go back downstairs again to snip me out. The ties were so tight however, that he was struggling to find a safe place to do this without nipping my skin. I was starting to panic a bit now, having visions of being cut from my bed by a fireman wearing only my knickers and scarf. Finally, luckily, he cut me free.
Sadly, the panic and pain completely throttled both of our libidos to death and we had to settle with snuggling up, trying to keep warm in our chilly bed and thinking up ways to hide my bruised wrists.
That bloody plumber better turn up tomorrow…