A good Sunday

It is Easter Sunday, and I am lying in bed next to Bear after I served him breakfast. Bear has been in less than stellar health for weeks now. Yesterday, I told him not to worry about when and whether I will come, and to focus on getting better. He told me he really appreciated hearing that. Today, I am explaining that saying these things is the opposite of a hardship for me: It ties right into my kinks about serving and putting my orgasm behind his well-being. He gets that, and tells me that he wants to make sure my needs are met, and that he wishes he could do more. I reassure him that my needs are being met: I need to be seen and know that Bear acknowledges I am desperately horny, and I need touch. Bear has been doing a great job providing both, despite his ill health, and I am immensely grateful for that. I don’t need to come: That’s merely a want. I can be patient.

As we are talking, Bear tells me “I am hard.” I ask him whether I may touch his cock. “Yes,” he says. I am pretty much instantly hard myself, and start lightly stroking his cock. After a bit of that, I ask Bear whether I may suck him off. “No,” he says. “I want you to use your hand to get me off.” He gets out some lube, and I comply eagerly. As I am stroking him, he gives me direction on grip, speed and pressure. I love giving him pleasure. Getting direct feedback on what does and does not work for him in that moment is very helpful, and I am grateful. He keeps his left hand wrapped around my erect cock, giving it a short stroke just a couple of times and otherwise just resting there. I feel content, and owned, and very grateful. When he comes, spilling his seed over my fingers, I am happy. I had not expected him to feel horny, and neither had he. This is a pleasant surprise.

I remain in a happy state for the rest of the day. I start the ham, prepared the day before, in the smoker; do some laundry; indulge myself by putting storage bins for Bear together while wearing only a T-Shirt; pick up a month worth of dog leavings in the back yard; take the cover off the pool with Bear and commiserate with him over the damage the cold winter has done to the pool; get really excited over taking the ham out again and have a great dinner with Bear and our daughter; and to close the day out, polish Bear’s shoes, which he had told me to do over the weekend. He tells me he likes seeing me do chores; I tell him I love doing chores. Even more so doing them naked, though I am clothed right now.

We get ready for bed, and Bear rests his hand on my cock through the covers. This is frustrating and lovely at the same time. He falls asleep and I lie awake, feeling horny. I indulge myself some more by putting on a leather cock and ball contraption, and a glass plug Bear had gotten me as a present.

If Bear wasn’t ill, this would have been a perfect day. As is, it was a good day for me, but only a so-so day for Bear. He spent a good amount of the day in front of a screen because of an event in a video game. Then lamented that he felt like he had wasted his day. That confirms me in my desire to limit my own screen time. I can’t save Bear from spending hours before the screen; I can do better myself and maybe be an example of an alternative.


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