Yoga is useful in ways I never quite realized.
So, remember the mention of the trip the ER to remove a wayward sponge? Yep, almost came to that this morning - again.
The Bloke came home last night and I met him up at his place. (An aside: his neighbor saw me reading on the deck and, when I said The Bloke would be home soon, he said "Well, I'm going to bed early..." I laughed out loud. A hint? Perhaps!) The Bloke was understandably quite tired, but that's never stopped him before from wanting a romp. We unwound with a beer, a chat, and some nibblies. He pushed away his plate and announced "I've had enough..." and that was our cue to retreat upstairs.
I'd already steeled my uterus against impregnation with a sponge; despite the ER incident, it's still my contraception of choice and I felt all Elaine when it was off the shelves for a while. Today's Sponge ROCKS, and the errant one that got wedged up in me was not a Today's and had no string-handle-thing for retrieval, hence the disappearing act. The Bloke asked if it was okay to "fuck with reckless abandon" and I nodded as he bit into my nipples. He lifted his body over me and sunk is cock deep in me, holding my face and watching my reaction. After an orgasm for me, he pulled out and nibbled my clit and lips, getting me wetter and wetter. Finally, he turned me over and pounded me from behind; I must've cum at least three more times as he grinded his cock deep against my cervix. He finally exploded in me and collapsed, still deep in me. I love those moments when we're both dizzy from an orgasm and relishing the sweetness of after.
Since The Bloke and I both seem to have insatiable appetites, we both woke up early this morning and began to play again. "Still ok?" he asked, referring to the birth control situation. I nodded again - LOVE the fact that the sponge is good for many fucks - and he entered me again, on our sides, facing each other. It was deliciously intimate, and I loved kissing him and caressing is body as we moved together. But, since we both love it so, I ended up on my belly again, him deep in me, hugging me tight against him as he came. We stayed that way a while, shifting as he pulled out, drifting in and out of blissful napping for a bit.
I decided to get the sponge out before I left, so I went to the bathroom and slid my finger up.... nothing. I couldn't feel it. I felt around a bit more and located it over to the side, and I felt a fissure down the center of it. Not a prob, I figured, since they do tend to split a bit during a vigorous session. But this bugger would not budge. The string-thing was nowhere to be found and I thought Oh, SHITE, here we go again...
I figured I wouldn't fret it too much, so we had a quick breakfast and he headed off to work and I came home. But in the shower, I took the proverb "If at first you don't succeed..." to heart and
slid a finger up. I felt it again and actually got hold of a part of it, but it broke off. Bugger!
This, dear readers, called for equipment.
I hopped out of the shower and drippingly went over to a drawer in which I had a crochet hook. It was a big, plastic one that came with a "Kidz Kan Krochet" type of project (I'm THAT inept with some things that friends actually give me kiddie versions... ) It was smooth and dull and purple. Perfect! I inhaled and did my best Uttasana, trying to get maximum reach-advantage and I went back in, feeling with a finger, then two, then the hook. The string was actually turned around, not facing any sort of exiting orifice at all. I maneuvered, and maneuvered, and maneuvered some more until I finally got a grip and set myself free from the spongetastic confines into which I'd built my uterus.
Oh, sweet success!
So, I'd like to take a moment to thank my yoga instructors; a few months ago, I might not have been able to get so deep into the pose. Y'all saved me a cool grand.
Namaste.
So, remember the mention of the trip the ER to remove a wayward sponge? Yep, almost came to that this morning - again.
The Bloke came home last night and I met him up at his place. (An aside: his neighbor saw me reading on the deck and, when I said The Bloke would be home soon, he said "Well, I'm going to bed early..." I laughed out loud. A hint? Perhaps!) The Bloke was understandably quite tired, but that's never stopped him before from wanting a romp. We unwound with a beer, a chat, and some nibblies. He pushed away his plate and announced "I've had enough..." and that was our cue to retreat upstairs.
I'd already steeled my uterus against impregnation with a sponge; despite the ER incident, it's still my contraception of choice and I felt all Elaine when it was off the shelves for a while. Today's Sponge ROCKS, and the errant one that got wedged up in me was not a Today's and had no string-handle-thing for retrieval, hence the disappearing act. The Bloke asked if it was okay to "fuck with reckless abandon" and I nodded as he bit into my nipples. He lifted his body over me and sunk is cock deep in me, holding my face and watching my reaction. After an orgasm for me, he pulled out and nibbled my clit and lips, getting me wetter and wetter. Finally, he turned me over and pounded me from behind; I must've cum at least three more times as he grinded his cock deep against my cervix. He finally exploded in me and collapsed, still deep in me. I love those moments when we're both dizzy from an orgasm and relishing the sweetness of after.
Since The Bloke and I both seem to have insatiable appetites, we both woke up early this morning and began to play again. "Still ok?" he asked, referring to the birth control situation. I nodded again - LOVE the fact that the sponge is good for many fucks - and he entered me again, on our sides, facing each other. It was deliciously intimate, and I loved kissing him and caressing is body as we moved together. But, since we both love it so, I ended up on my belly again, him deep in me, hugging me tight against him as he came. We stayed that way a while, shifting as he pulled out, drifting in and out of blissful napping for a bit.
I decided to get the sponge out before I left, so I went to the bathroom and slid my finger up.... nothing. I couldn't feel it. I felt around a bit more and located it over to the side, and I felt a fissure down the center of it. Not a prob, I figured, since they do tend to split a bit during a vigorous session. But this bugger would not budge. The string-thing was nowhere to be found and I thought Oh, SHITE, here we go again...
I figured I wouldn't fret it too much, so we had a quick breakfast and he headed off to work and I came home. But in the shower, I took the proverb "If at first you don't succeed..." to heart and
slid a finger up. I felt it again and actually got hold of a part of it, but it broke off. Bugger!This, dear readers, called for equipment.
I hopped out of the shower and drippingly went over to a drawer in which I had a crochet hook. It was a big, plastic one that came with a "Kidz Kan Krochet" type of project (I'm THAT inept with some things that friends actually give me kiddie versions... ) It was smooth and dull and purple. Perfect! I inhaled and did my best Uttasana, trying to get maximum reach-advantage and I went back in, feeling with a finger, then two, then the hook. The string was actually turned around, not facing any sort of exiting orifice at all. I maneuvered, and maneuvered, and maneuvered some more until I finally got a grip and set myself free from the spongetastic confines into which I'd built my uterus.
Oh, sweet success!
So, I'd like to take a moment to thank my yoga instructors; a few months ago, I might not have been able to get so deep into the pose. Y'all saved me a cool grand.
Namaste.
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