Mary and Daphne #172

I’m not a flopper, but I did flop over Mary’s lap today. I was outside gardening, I was tired, it was hot, I was sweaty, the air conditioning made all these goose bumps appear, and there was Mary, sitting on the couch with her legs propped on the coffee table with her shorts all ridden up on her thighs. What better place to flop in all the land? None. That’s how many.

“Hi,” I said because it’s polite to greet a person whose lap you’re sprawled over, ideally beforehand but in the first few seconds is permissible too.

SPANK!

“Hey! What was that for?”

“I thought you wanted me to.” A likely story.

“Can’t a girl sprawl across her lover’s lap without collecting a spank? I think we need marriage counseling.”

“What? Why on earth would we need marriage counseling?”

“Cuz I wanna see the look on the therapist’s face when we do that thing where I roleplay as you and you roleplay as me heehee!”

“You’ll say anything for a laugh,” Mary said as she laughed. I make her laugh … sigh. “You are such a sweat ball.”

“Excuse me, I don’t sweat. I glisten. Ladies glisten.” And did I describe myself as sweaty above? Well, what a woman says in her diary is private.

“And if I didn’t know better, I might mistake the dirt just above your ankles for tan lines.”

“I labored for you, Mary. I labored to make our house more beautiful and full of fresh produce all summer. I’ma put you to work harvesting berries soon … Do you think if I were to get caught eating the berries during harvesting that I might be made to take my shorts and panties down and submit to a switching right there in the yard and have to finish my work with my bare bottom on display?”

“I think that could be arranged,” she said while – get this – leaning all the way over to nibble on my earlobe. Like, does she even know whose ear that is? “But we wouldn’t want to sunburn your butt. You should sunbathe without your bottoms on for at least an hour every day.”

“If you say so. You’re always saying stuff and things.”

“Are you gonna fall asleep across my legs?”

“Yeah. You uncomfortable?”

“Yeah.”

“Tough. I worked hard and wanna sleep on your legs.”

“Excuse me, little girl. I’ll show you tough.”

I married a ninja, for real. Does she even know whose body she flipped over and manhandled and was straddling on the couch?

“Mar-eeeeeee! St-eeeeee! Stop heeheehee! No heeheeheehee fair-eeee tickling!”

“If you say so. You’re always saying stuff and things.”

“Um, scoff? Rude much? And do you even know whose sides you were tickling just now?”

And as soon as I said it, I saw. She had definite Afternoon Delight face. I suddenly felt a second wind. A second wind and … stuff. And, like, does she even know whose mouth she was putting her tongue in? She should be so rude every day and maybe twice a day on weekends.

So, um, anyway, forty minutes later …

“You have such a pretty little body,” my Mary (so called because she’s mine and no one else can have her) said to me while running a fingertip up and down my pretty little body.

“You’re just saying that cuz you love me.”

“I love (kiss) you and (kiss) your body and (kiss) I especially love (kiss) your minnie.”

Excuse me? “Excuse me? My what?”

“This.”

Zipe! She is so wonderfully handsy. “I know what you meant. Don’t call it that.”

“Why not,” she chuckled.

“It’s … weird.”

“You don’t like it when I call it a p…”

“Stop! I have delicate little ears. I don’t like that word.”

“The things you choose to be bashful about. Such a cutie.”

“Am not.”

“Are so. You don’t mind the part that shall not be named being on display in our backyard though, do you?”

“I must’ve missed the day in Sunday school when they said we shouldn’t do that. And Mom did used to say she had such a hard time keeping clothes on me.”

“Yet more proof you’re still a little girl.”

“Am not.”

“C’mon, let’s go get my little girl a bath … and I think I’ll join you in the tub.”

“You can call it a kitty, if you must refer to it as anything.”

“Lemme see your kitty moving toward the bathroom. Scoot.”

“Hey, Mary? Do you think that spray we got for cleaning up Suzy’s accidents will work on the couch? Asking for my friend named Mary who, um, really enjoyed herself just now.”

“I think so,” she chuckled.

“And my friend also wants to know if you think it will work on the wall next to the side table.”

“Harhar. You flatter yourself.”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”