sun. 9:13 am

Now Jack is sleeping and one of the kids is up and so is my sister, who is here for a week. Bad timing, kind of. She was going to come visit a few weeks ago, but then we found out Jack was going to be leaving town for so long so she switched her ticket to now, when he’d be gone and I’d be lonely. Which I was, but now he is suddenly here and we don’t have much time alone.

Friday evening I left the house full of teenage boys to go to the airport. I was fully dressed, as I couldn’t see a way to execute my plan from the earlier post. Seriously, teenage boys all over the place, sitting down and talking to me, following me around, etc. While I drove they called and said they were going out with their friends, so I knew we’d have the house to ourselves when we got back.

At the airport there’s a certain place you can stand and watch the people as they get on to the escalator from the gates. You can see their feet. If you duck your head a little you can see them from the knees down, then you can’t see them again till they are walking towards you. I stood and watched all the feet and the carryon bags and paced. I was nervous, excited. I watched all the Midwestern families reunite and the businessmen walk alone out to their cars. Then finally, finally, finally, I saw my husband. He ducked and waved through this little gap in all the partitions—he must have been watching for my feet, too.

Then he walked toward me. He looked so handsome. Tan and trim and wearing his sexy jeans and his hip new sneakers, which I had forgotten he bought before he left, and a long sleeved blue button shirt. It’s sunny where he lives now, and he walks to work. We hugged and kissed and walked outside so he could smoke. I kept unbuttoning that blue shirt—he had a white t-shirt underneath--and running my hand over his chest and his neck. We kissed and kissed and I felt his cock getting hard and I stroked it through his jeans. We leaned against the car. A beautiful crisp wide open fall sky stretched over the parking lot, and families made their way past us to their cars.

He talked about his job and his new friends and I pictured them all enchanted by him, excited to be in a room with him, wanting his attention. Jack is funny and charismatic and everyone adores him. His coworkers argue over who gets to give him a ride home.

I drove us home and carried his bag upstairs and unpacked it. He played with the dog and walked around the house and sat outside, listening to the crickets and the birds and the music from the free concert downtown. He was getting used to being here.

Finally we went upstairs. He asked me where his bag was and I told him I’d unpacked it. He said, “Very good,” in that voice that signifies the shift from the man who is my best friend to the man who owns me, who takes control of me. I knew he wanted to mark me, and I knew that now was the only time we’d have privacy—before the kids came home, before I picked up my sister from the airport.

I took off my clothes and stood naked except for my heels. He said, “I want to be able to see your face.” He brought a mirror in from the hall and hung it on our closet door, then placed my hands on either side of it. He positioned my feet and pressed on my lower back, tilting my ass up towards him. He said he’d give me one mark for each day he’d been gone. He asked me how many and I couldn’t think. I tried to add in my head. “Twelve?” I said. He said, “No, eleven. Eleven marks. Which cane do you like the best?” I pointed out the little one and he said, “okay, six with the little one and five with the big one. Do you understand?” I nodded. Eleven seemed like a lot.

He stood behind me, tracing lines on my skin with his hand and the cane, inspecting me, admiring me. Telling me I could have his cock in my mouth when he was finished with the marks. He pulled out his cock and touched it to me so I could feel how hard he was. He always says I’m beautiful, that I have a perfect ass. I felt anxious, full of dread, full of love.

Then the door opened downstairs and we heard voices, boys talking to each other and then “Dad? Dad?” Jack and I looked at each other for a second. He said, ”I don’t believe it,” then we both scrambled for clothes. He tried to fit his cock back in his pants, and put his blue shirt on to cover it up.

So we went downstairs and hung out with the boys and ate some sandwiches.