Lost and Found
I don't lose things. Not regularly anyway. Ok, sometimes I might lose my head. And I rarely lose my temper. Years ago I believe I lost my mind. When I was about 11 I lost a recorder (as in the instrument), and I still obsess about where it might be. I lost a brush in a back-packers in Florence in 2000, and it still annoys me. But, really, as a general rule, I don't lose things.
But then along came Subtle. And with him, the return of my sex life (hello dear friend, it has been so long.....). One shouldn't expect the first time with someone to be a romantic and orgasmic experience. Hell, you don't know each other's bodies yet, so there is stuff to find out, and explore. You might fumble and laugh. Frankly, I think that that makes it all the more fun. I expect a certain amount of clumsiness in maneuvering and logistics, especially when one accounts for excitement, anticipation, anxiety and extreme horniness.
What I didn't expect was to lose something. Something small, round and rubber. Something sort of important. And I can tell you what a kill-joy that discovery was. We looked high and low. We looked suspiciously at Isabella - had she run off with it? Did our heated passion make it spontaneously combust?
Thankfully, it finally appeared*. Possibly at an inopportune time. But, I can tell you, it was worth celebrating.
* And no, I am not going into gory details of where it was. You can work it out. None of us needs that image in our heads..... oh shit, image is now there anyway.