It seems like the small problems adding up between Dante and I may have been symptomatic of the bigger issue: our lack of sexual compatibility. Physically speaking. Yesterday Dante reminded me there's way more to sex than just penetration. He reminded me on the kitchen counter while we cooked dinner. He reminded me as I hung over the ottoman after dinner. He reminded me on the guest futon while I started my latest Twin Peaks marathon afterwards. He reminded me in his bedroom that night.
From the moment he got home from work he couldn't keep his hands off me and seemed to have made the decision somewhere in his day I would spend the rest of the evening naked, taking it upon himself to strip off any article of clothing I attempted to put back on. I gave up pretty early on and just went on with my balls hanging and assed out.
So he likes surprises? The plan is to greet him at the door when he get's back from work in nothing but a jock strap, throw him against the wall for the best head of his life and just about the time I polish him off the BBQ smothered pork ribs and baked potatoes I've been preparing for dinner should be ready.
Seriously bitches? It's really not that hard to keep a man interested.