I’m writing this from the first of two flights tonight. Two flights that get me home to Axel for two days. Just two days before I am out of town for two weeks. Ironically, I’m also sitting in seat 2B, but I’m already digressing.
As I write this, I am planning to go home and sex up my husband something fierce. Like his jaw will be sore for two days kind of fierce. In fact, other places might be sore on him for two days too. Mad. Passionate. FUCKING.
That’s my plan.
However, there are two things wrong with this plan.
One, when not with the rabbit, I don’t control my penis anymore. All the plans in the world I have now might just be too far fetched because it’s not my choice now and I know that. I’m not liking it at the moment, but I know it.
I chose that? Fuck me. What was I thinking? Was I not planning ahead for when my horny steel laden penis wanted to speak for itself?
Luckily, my inner Batman voice is just telling me to take a chance. “Go for it. Sex. That. Man. Up”, is what I am hearing in my head. All he can say is “too fucking bad, right?, riiiiiiiiight? Be Batman. Go for it”, he says.
Arggggggg. God damn, thinking about the fact I may not be able to do anything is really making it just that much more hot. How funny. Of course, me being me, I am trying to mentally create a spreadsheet to graph this feeling to see exactly how long it will be before I remember I don’t have that power anymore. How sexy is that, huh? Huh?
Two, and most likely the larger factor, is reality.
My first meeting started this morning at 6:30am EDT and I don’t get home until 10:30pm CDT. Drew may not be functioning, so, there too, is a dilemma. This is compounded by the fact that Axel is currently about three hours from home having driven today to get a security clearance so he can travel with me this summer, which from the texts I have received was not pleasant. He will get home about an hour before me which will either result in him being really fed up horny and wanting to take it out on me or just a collapse on the bed as tomorrow starts early.
Who knows and I am trying to learn to not worry about such things. To switch to the vanilla side of my life, preparing for this type of travel really is, well, just one of the worst consequences of my job. I hate leaving home. That never gets easier and is a feeling that just sits in my gut like a bomb until I get past security and into my regular traveling man groove. When I go to the other side of the world, it’s worse, because in the days that precede these trips, there is always some weird feeling in my head like I have to prepare like I am going to be gone for a year or more, even if it is just fourteen days. Translated, that means that I will spend tomorrow and Friday working on regular work, but also doing laundry, trying to visit my parents, trying to have a meal with my best friend, working out to cover the 33 hours in a flying metal tube, and then making sure that I get to spend some type of time with Thumper, you know, just in case they don’t have wifi in Australia anymore. Add to that trying to get as many hours with Axel doing coupley things as I can.
It’s a great plan, but the reality of the situation is I will likely have pissed off both Thumper and Axel by 10am tomorrow trying to schedule, irritated my parents, forgotten about at least two things for work, thrown a red shirt in with the whites, and then generally have worked myself into such a foul mood by 4pm that my second day is just miserable as I try to make amends for day one.
The great thing about having just written that out, however, is that I can see the priorities: Axel, parents, Thumper, and the red shirt I like. I am hoping that this clustered mess of words will actually allow me to de stress which, coincidently, would be really helped by the aforementioned sex, which, again, I would plan on making mad, passionate, and, to now add, sticky.
But only, if allowed.
Cross your fingers for me.