I awoke in the morning to an odd sight for
I slid down a bit, rolled over, and gave her a soft kiss on the tummy. This was one of her very favorite ways to wake up in the morning. "Good morning, Sugar plum," I said.
"Good morning, fuzzy. "
I gave her a couple of more smooches around the belly button. "Should I get up and shave?"
"No," she said stretching. "You are fine where you are. "
I took this as an invitation of sorts, and started working my way down a bit. I planted a slow and gentle row of kisses across the oh so soft skin on the line between her short hairs and tummy. This was just one of the perks of being married to a morning person. She wasn't always in the mood, but she would usually let me know in some very kind way if it wasn't a good day. I listened attentively. All I heard was a soft "Mmm" from the top of the bed. So encouraged, I continued working my way downward with soft kisses to the top of her thighs. As my advances grew bolder she spread her legs just a bit. This was my favorite way to wake up in the morning, too. I adjusted my position to get a little more comfortable, let my hands begin exploring slowly upwards, and extended my tongue just a little for that delicate first touch. Suddenly, and most unexpectedly, I felt a thunderous impact accompanied by 20 or so bolts of hot white pain in the back of my head and shoulders. Simultaneously my nose impacted Marta's sex.
"Ouch! That's just a bit rough, Sweetie," Marta said gently .
A muffled "Cat" was all I managed to get out. Marta had named her cats Orville and Wilbur for their habit of flying off of high places and, as often as not, landing on people. Judging by the weight and his reputation for unabashed voyeurism, I guessed it was Wilbur who had impaled me.
Marta giggled as I wrestled with the problem of how to extricate myself without further damage. It wasn't an easy problem.
"Don't stop," Marta said.
"But ..."
"Oh please, don't stop!"
The original pain had died down to a manageable level, or maybe the nerves had just worn out. Gamely I went on trying my best to ignore the 15 lbs. of cat purring from my head. Davy Crockett meets sadomasochism. I know I am going to have sore neck muscles for a week because of this is. I did my best to concentrate on Marta's likes and dislikes and continued with only slightly less enthusiasm than I usually displayed. Judging by Marta's reaction, I knew I was doing okay. Perhaps more than okay. The Olympic judges should really give me a truly amazing score given the degree of difficulty. About the time I really started getting into it, and Marta really started getting into it, the cat decided to begin kneading my head. Son of a...! I could feel its claws moving slowly into and out of my scalp through the thin sheet. He slowly and alternated left and right paws as cats always do . There was an awful moment of anticipation each time one set of talons let go before the next set dug in. "She owes me big for this one," I thought to myself. I intensified my efforts -- partially because I knew Marta would like it and partially to bring a quicker end to my torment. The cat seemed to enjoy it too as his purring rose a couple of decibels and his pummeling intensified.
"Oh, yes!" she shouted as she finally climaxed. Thank the gods. Unfortunately, her outburst startled Wilbur who laid a fresh set of tracks while scrambling off my head for the safety of the living room.
"That's going to leave a mark," I groaned. A few moments later I scooched up and joined Marta at the top of the bed.
"And what can I do for you?" she asked in her best bedroom voice.
"How about some ibuprofen and iodine, " I responded with all seriousness.
"That can wait for a bit. I think I know a better way to take your mind off the pain. "
Sure enough. She did.