I have been susceptible to lower back strains since I jumped on top of a desk at an after hours office party and broke into a revivalistic boogie of sorts. It was around 30 years ago and that “strain” put me flat of my back and introduced me to a level of agony that few dommes would ever be able to match.
After a yoga class, run and make-good tennis match from our local tennis league weekend, I managed to re-injure my lower back so I’m home for the day and feeling as if I’ve neglected my blog. But there is a reason.
I’ve torn down the walls of my sexual addiction on a pretty cosmic scale. Except for this retired stripper, who violates my backside man-cave just about every other week. I’m not paying, although a few bones have been thrown her way.
However, when your prostate is getting inner noogies (sp.?) on a pretty regular basis, I find it hard to find too much distress in much of anything. I don’t think we really care much for each other though she goes through the motions. And I access my courtly 21st century gentleman schtick to get my occasional violation and get the heck out of there. She also showers me with teasing tidbits of humiliation and other tiny torrents of verbal emascualtion, so I’m pretty much sated.
This blog has been way helpful. While much of getting healthier and more open is tough, sprint into a brick wall bullshit….this is more of a breathing space. Here, in this particular format, you can celebrate or cock a jaundiced eyebrow at the sick shit one does in the throes of addiction. You can smile, sigh and gird your loins for the next day or the next minute. If it grabs your forearm and lifts you out of the muck and back on a path towards the light, I’ve done my job.
And if it doesn’t, maybe you’ll just be vaguely appalled and that too, I will accept. Peace to us all, my brothers and sisters.
