...the Mouse Won't Get to Play in Her House

Boo hoo.

The mouse won't get to play in her own house.

Yet, she still got to play.

And that's all that matters!

Drake and I could not coordinate our times to get together at my house. He felt getting together too early in the week might be too risky; i .e., my sons might leave class/work early on the first days back and catch us in the act. Neither Wednesday nor Thursday works for me and Dave will be home Thursday night.

Neither one of us wants to get caught, obviously. So we're playing it safe.

So Drake and I met at our usual spot at the River on Monday and shared a bottle of wine before heading to the back of Drake's SUV. We had vowed to cut out drinking for two months, but it definitely relaxes him and he needs to relax.

Drake has multiple frustrations going on in his life at the moment: His kids, a committee he is on, his business ventures... He was very wound up and worked up when we met.

He calmed down a bit after the wine, but I was caught off guard when we got into the back of his SUV. He pushed me on my back, pressed all 6'3" inches of himself on top of me, and roughly pressed his mouth against mine.

I don't even remember him getting hard. It happened so quickly. He got onto his knees, pinned my arms over my head with one hand, and stroked himself with the other before entering me. He ran the gamut of emotions from telling me how much he loves to use me (and how much I enjoy it--which is true) to how he can't believe how lucky he is to have me to telling me how beautiful I am.


I feel that he and I are in a good place. He has made me accountable for taking my mood stabilizing medication. I send him a nightly email telling him that I took it. I have a habit of going off the medication and then my mood swings up and down. I have felt more balanced since he has made me accountable.

We have a good thing going.