Left to My Own Devices

This is my story about something that occurred this past weekend... and the shenanigans I get into when I am left alone:

I think I am suffering from the Winter Lazies. There is such a thing as Spring Fever and I am saying right now that I am pretty sure the Winter Lazies are real. I would much rather lay on the couch, under a blanket with a book or my laptop, instead of doing- well, pretty much anything.

This past weekend Mr. McKay went to a football game (it was a playoff game, it did not end well for our team- we are not speaking of it anymore). He left early to do the whole tailgating thing so I was left with an entire day of uninterrupted 'me time'. So many things I wanted to do. I was going to write, write so much! Then I was going to take down the Christmas decorations, put away our gifts that are still laying under the tree, and clean. 

I started off alright. I did write a bit. Then I decided to reward myself with a new book. Then I got under the new comfy throw on the couch, a few cats found me, and I read... for three and a half hours. I spent the better part of the afternoon laying on the couch doing nothing, and it was GLORIOUS! But the thing is, I was reading some spanking fiction. I had read 60% of the book I downloaded, and to say it worked me up a bit would be putting it mildly.

I didn't want to waste the rest of my day, so I decided there were some things I should take care of before I got on to my chores. I went upstairs. I found the new 'massager' I got for Christmas from my awesome husband. And I decided to really have some quality 'me time'.

Side note: we had used this thing twice since Christmas, neither time was I the one holding it, so I didn't realize how heavy it was.

I am laying on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position to hold this thing and put it where I want. It starts feeling great, so great, I am not moving it from whatever spot I hit. I add my other hand- I'm not even really thinking, I am just doing what feels right and--- holy crap, I think I peed!

I leap off the bed, there is definitely moisture, but no, not pee. Shit! I think I just squirted. 

My momentary elation is flooded with guilt. You do not understand the mission my husband has been on to try to make me squirt. I really don't understand the appeal. He has been trying to make it happen for so long now I was just sure it would never happen. In fact, one of his selling features of this 'massager' he gave me was that some online reviews said if you wanted to squirt this was the way to do it.

Well, they were right... but I don't think I was supposed to be alone.

And the kicker is, I don't even remember how the orgasm was because I was so distracted by the aftermath.

Then came my dilemma. I can't NOT tell him. First of all, I am a terrible liar. Secondly, we share everything. And thirdly, how was I going to explain how the skin got scraped off my knuckle of my thumb?

Oh yeah, did I forget that part? I guess when I was trying to find the right way to hold the thing, and get it at the right angle, I jammed my thumb into some moving part. But was so distracted by the- erm- vibrations, that I didn't realize I was peeling the skin off my thumb. 

He got home very late, and very grumpy. We didn't talk until the next day. I recounted all events. I showed him the injury to my thumb. I made sure to tell him how awesome his selection of Christmas gifts were. He did such great research! He is the best for always thinking of me! Oh and by the way I squirted.

What? Did I say something? Why? Do you think you heard me say something?

A few hours later I am laying face down over the bed. We've decided I should have the butt plug in for the rest of the night. We've also decided we are going to spank me until I really beg for it to please, stop already. (Only that never happens, so it went on for a while and it was so so so incredibly awesome/stingy/too much/just what I needed.) I also think if it were possible to die from having multiple orgasms- someone would be writing a really nice (hopefully) eulogy about me right now.

But alas, there was no squirting, so the mission continues. 

To end this story, I would like you to know I am writing this in the glow of my Christmas tree, which is still up, along with the stockings. The Winter Lazies are in the full effect-- someone should promise to spank me if I un-decorate.

Here is the site for the magic device. Click Here