I had myself a little freak out last night, and went to bed with a million things clamoring for my attention, one of which was my husband. It’s about That Time of the Month, and hubby wanted to make sure he could slide in *cough* before the deadline.I was so not in the mood. I was exasperated, frustrated, irritated and completely unable to focus. I wanted to. His dick looked marvelous. His lips were soft and inviting. And then my mind would wander off into cranky land, and I’d have to yank it back again. Even THAT started to piss me off.

Finally, my brain caught up with itself and said, “Hey, stupid, how about some nipple clamps?”

-insert screeching of full brakes here-

Oooooooh. Hey, you’re brilliant! Thank you, I try.

So Jack applied the agonizing nipple clamps, gloves off, oh yes. Full alligator clips pinching tightly into your nipples gives you AMAZING powers of concentration. I don’t know how well that would work during a college exam, say, but it works really well in bed with your husband, that I know.

Whatever the hell I was thinking about was long gone, I was wincing and trying not to screech while my husband propped my ass up high in the air with a folded up pillow and pounded the hell out of me, hard enough so that my breasts (and clamps) would shake and rattle.

I came with one deliriously long wrought out orgasm and enjoyed a few more while he finished himself. This time, he was smart enough to pull the clamps off BEFORE he pulled out, and that was the perfect distraction, but still- it’s two P.M. the next day and I STILL have on my very tight sports bra (can you say ow?)

Before we fell asleep, I thanked him for “fucking the crazy out of me” and we fell asleep like we usually do, holding hands, feet touching, and I whispered, “super best friends” (ala the Blaintology episode of South Park) as we drifted off to sleep.

If I could mimic Cartman, I so totally would, saying, “Nipple clamps, you’re so totally awesome.”