Category Archives: Musings

One Year Anniversary!

I am celebrating my one year anniversary as a blogger!

My official first blog (Feb 3, 2013) , was no more than 6 sentences, and introduced myself as a spanko and avid reader. It’s pretty funny, how embarrassed and shy I acted.  I was so afraid I would say the wrong thing, I had a few friends beta read all of my blog posts for me 😉 

I have grown a bit more comfortable with my “speaking”, but I’ll be honest; every once in a while I still ask a friend to beta for me. 🙂

1 yr blogiversary

Here are some of the bigger events from the past year :

1. I learned how to  blog.

Good Lord, technology is not my friend. A few close friends can attest to this.  I have even taken part in a blog hop and some Saturday Spankings hops.  LOL, I have come along way from “Quick, someone help me! I can’t log in to my WP account!” Does anyone remember that FB post? 😉

2I learned how to review.

And more importantly, how to give my opinion without feeling badly. (Actually, I’m still not quite there. But I am making good progress.)

3.  I learned that I have a voice.

It doesn’t have to mirror anyone else’s– it is my own special voice.  I think my voice stems from my emotions. Usually, it is happy and light, and whimsical. (Sometimes, not so much.) But I am learning to project this into my writing. And it is proving to be a wonderful outlet for me.

4.  I learned that I need boundaries and discipline in my everyday life.

Many of you already know that I asked my husband to enter into a DD relationship with me a few years ago

5.  I also learned that I LIKE being spanked. 

This was a huge conundrum for me, finding myself on both sides of the line. So we blurred the line, and I feel better. 🙂

6.  I started writing my first book; had it edited; revised it; then promptly put it aside.

I don’t know what led me to do this. Fear? Self sabotage? Or just not feeling ready to release it?

7.  I just finished my second story.

This one flew from my fingertips onto the pages! It was so exciting, and romantic, and fantastical! It seemed that I found one of my niches. (Fantasy and paranormal). It was so enjoyable to create these characters, and watch them evolve on the paper! I love these characters, and finally get it.  The thought of sharing these characters with the world is so much greater than my fears, or my (possible?) need for self sabotage.  I am about to submit this story to the publisher, and am shaking with excitement. (And a little bit of fear of the unknown. 🙂 ) This will be my first published story. And it is pretty exciting for me!  So I am letting it go! Wish me luck!

8. Finally, and most importantly, I made friends.

Some are the types that I can laugh and joke with on FB. And some, I can go to when I need a shoulder, or a supportive hug.  These women know who they are. I am so blessed to have all of these different friends in my life.

*****

So there it is in a nut shell. This is where I usually insert a funny Austin Powers  line. 🙂 But I won’t, this time.

Thanks for being there with me, this past year!

I am looking forward to all the cool stuff we will do and learn together, this next year!

Blessings!

Life is a training run

woman running on hot day

Ok, it’s time for another metaphorical post.  Many of you know that I am a runner. I have competed for over half of my life, and am about to start competing again.  A good or bad day depends on how my run went that morning.  Luckily, I have been working on finding other outlets, like reading, writing and blogging.

When I went out for my run this morning, I was hit with a blog post idea. (Most of my ideas come while running. It’s Murphy’s Law. No computer or pencil and paper in sight.  I may have to start carrying a Dictaphone with me.  )

The idea was that my life is like a training run.  I was able to compile a short list of comparisons between my daily life, and my running. And I thought it would be fun to share.

So here goes.

The top 5 reasons how my life compares to running.

***

1.     All it takes is that first step.

 

Sometimes, I don’t want to get out of bed and run.  It’s early, it’s dark, and my bed is warm and snuggly.

I grumble and groan, and throw the blankets and pillows around, hoping to wake up hubby. (Misery loves company, right? If I have to be awake, he should be too! )

I stumble around, brush my teeth, drink some water, and put on my jog bra and shorts, and socks and shoes. In the area I live, the heat and humidity are already high. No reason to wear anything else.

Then I step out the door, and take my first short stride. As I continue to run, my stride lengthens, my pace quickens, and I relax into the run.

It’s a wonderful feeling, the fresh air, and solitude, feeling my body’s movements, in tune with my surroundings. And I would have missed it, if I hadn’t taken that first step.

Sometimes, life is like that. I may be grumpy or not in the right mindset to do something new and challenging.  But if I take that first step, I almost always surprise myself, and find that I actually enjoy whatever activity it is. But I have to be willing to take the first step.

***

2.     Out and back runs are good for laziness.

 

Sometimes, I get lazy. I don’t want to finish a whole 5 miler, I’m bored, or lonely.

(or sometimes, I come up with great ideas for a story or blog post, and want to rush back home).  But I know that doing the whole planned workout is what is going to get me to my goal.  So I force myself to finish the whole run, by doing an out and back run.

It’s just what it implies.

Out and back.

If I go 2 miles out, and get bored or lazy, there is no way I can shorten it and quit early. I have to go back the same two miles. There are no short cuts.  This forces me to stick to my game plan, even when I don’t want to.

In real life, I have a support network. People and events strategically placed, so when I have to absolutely get something done, I will.

I call this my house cleaning 911.

The surest way to get me to clean up the house, is to invite people over for dinner.  I scramble around for a few hours, frantically hiding toys and extra laundry, throwing away moldy cookies that somehow found their way under the couch.

(How the heck did that get there? Hey honey, isn’t that from Easter?)

My husband and I jokingly say that if we want to clean the house, we’ll plan to host a party that weekend.  🙂

***

3.     Running is tough, it hurts sometimes!

 

Some of my former workouts were so tough, I shudder to remember them.

5 by mile repeats at sub 5:30 pace. Ugh.

Yes, they were tough.

But once they were finished, I was stronger, faster, and ready to take on whatever workout was thrown at me next.  And as I pushed through one grueling workout after another, I knew that my goal was reachable.

I’m happy to say that my best season ever ended with a top 5 finish in a huge ten miler (61:49 PR). It was worth it.  All that hard work had come to fruition.  It meant something.

Life can be a hard sometimes also.  There are always ups and downs, struggles, battles to be fought.

They can be little, like trying to get a child to eat her hamburger as she loudly protests that she is a vegetarian; or big, like trying to get hubby to come on board with a new relationship that he doesn’t quite understand.

But pushing through it, and trying to have faith that there is a finish line, there is a huge goal to be reached, helps.

After the struggling and pushing have finished, I find myself stronger, ready for the next event.  And I am thankful for making it though that last event.

***

4.     Everyone has a different max threshold.

My favorite distance runner, Deena Kastor (2004 Olympic bronze medalist in the marathon, and American Record holder) has an amazing Max VO2 threshold, and capacity.  Her lungs and body are able to do amazing things that my body can’t even begin to emulate.

While she can run back to back 5:10 miles, I run 5:45 miles (or at least I did six years ago).  She can run several miles at the same pace as my fastest single mile.
But if I am trying my hardest, and working at the highest level my lungs and legs will allow me, does this make my efforts and achievements any less valid than hers?

I used to coach high school cross country and track.  One of my athletes was an asthmatic teenager who could barely run ½ a mile without needing her inhaler.

Through a slow, but steady workout regimen, we were able to get her not only running, but racing.  By the end of the season, she was racing 5K, keeping up with the other mid pack runners, and was the Captain of the team.

I have never been more proud of someone’s achievement, and I still cry sometimes when I think about how hard she worked to achieve her goals.

But she was just a 23 minute 5K’er.  Compared to my 17:40 5K, that should be negligent, right? Just as my times are compared to Deena?

In life, everyone has a different threshold, different goals, different pausing points, and different talents.  Is any one’s achievement any greater than another person’s?

I have to remind myself of this every once in a while. I will do the best I can in whatever situation I am in. And I shouldn’t compare myself to others’ successes, and feel like a failure if I don’t compete on their level.

I can only truly compete with myself, be the best I can be, and work to the highest of my own abilities.

My threshold is my threshold.

***

5.     Running should be fun!

 

Yes, sometimes running is hard work, it’s a job, it’s tiring, and overwhelming, and can be not much fun.

But it shouldn’t always be this way. Sometimes it’s necessary to lose the watch, forget about courses and overall time, and just enjoy the run.

It’s fun to go out, and watch the scenery, use your senses, people watch, daydream, or run with a group and crack silly jokes and laugh the whole time.  It’s fun, it’s therapeutic, and it is positive and energy producing.

Does it help with the overall goal of the big race at the end of the season?

Yes! It’s a release, a chance to let everything go and start fresh, coming back able to work even harder with the next workout.

It is just as necessary to have fun and enjoy the run, as it is to train hard.

Life is like this for me.

Sometime, I have to drop everything, being a wife, a mom, a role model, a runner, a writer… I throw on my shorts, tank top and tennis shoes, and play with the kids.

I play hopscotch, I climb trees, and I beam the neighborhood kids with water balloons, and laugh when they start crying. (Ok, I don’t really laugh at them.  That would be mean. )

It’s fun, it’s therapeutic, and energy building, while simultaneously releasing negative energy. I love it!

Sometimes I set up dance parties with some of the kids. (Ok, the adults just laugh at me when I dance. I’m not exactly known for my smooth moves).

The kids love it! We all slide across the hard wood floors, jump over the couch, shake our bodies, and yell at the top of our lungs, while singing to some crazy song with lyrics we don’t understand.

Oppa Gangnam Style, anyone?

***

So running is my life, and life is like my running.

Sometimes, it‘s hard, and I need help to push through.

I need my support network to either push me or give me positive affirmation to keep me going every once in a while.

I have to be ok with the fact that I’m doing the best I can, and remember not to judge myself or others in accomplishments.

And most importantly, I need to remember to stop everything and just enjoy it.

There’s a time for working hard, and there’s a time for dancing like a crazy woman.

To all the “runners” out there, no matter what your “run” is…

Good luck!

And

Happy “running”!

My Favorite Mother’s Day Memory

I love you flowers

I awoke (late. 9 am) to the sounds of giggling and whispering this morning, Mother’s Day 2013.  So I threw on my pajama pants, and went out to investigate, and see if I had a cool mother’s day surprise. I told myself to act surprised when daddy and the girls gave me my present.

(My daughter had been throwing hints at me all week. “So mommy, do you wish you had an I-phone?”

Yes, yes, a thousand times YES!)

I pasted a big smile on my face, and gratefully acknowledged the beautifully hand drawn cards, and coffee. Then they excitedly took me by my hands to show me my surprise out on the back porch. It was the moment I had been longing for, for ages, ever since I realized the ten year old next door had an I-phone.

(“But honey, all the other kids and their mommies have an I-phone. Can’t I pleeeeeeeeease have one?” I would whine incessantly. )

I opened my eyes (they had made me close them for full effect.), and saw it. It was beautiful, breathtaking. It was…

A cleaned off pack porch, with brand new chair cushions, and a pot of flowers on the table.

“Why, thank you, everyone. It’s perfect!” I exclaimed while surreptitiously looking around to see if the I-phone was hidden somewhere.

In the flowers? Nope.

Under the cushions? Nu-uh.

In my husband’s shirt? I hugged him EXTRA hard to check. But no, hard, plastic rectangular protuberances.

And then he explained my gift.

“I thought you might like to write out here. The weather is perfect, and you can have some quiet time whenever you want it.”

“This is great, honey. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness and hard work,” I told him, meaning every word.

The porch had been DISGUSTING.  And I wouldn’t even allow my worst enemy (or my sister-in-law) to sit on those old cushions. Well, I might have let her sit on them. Maybe.

He continued, “I wanted to get you, um, something more, but it was a little too much money after our little vacation last week,”

I agreed. We had spent a little extra money, but it had been so worth it.

It made me realize a few things.

Did I really need an I-phone to make me happy?

Mother’s Day was about graciously accepting the love from my children, and trying to remember that I was indeed blessed to be their mommy.

I reveled in their affirmation of love, and all the hard work that they had done to bless and honor me as their mommy.

And that was enough for me.

We went to church, followed by our annual Mother’s day Brunch. I had oringally wanted to go to brunch- you know, pancakes, eggs, bacon, lotsa cream and sugar with a little bit of coffee. Mmmmmm. Watching the little bitties drown their pancakes in syrup, using only their mouths to get the last little bit of whipped cream off the plate, and trying to let them hug me without getting my pretty dress too dirty. (Sticky syrup hands are ok on a rayon dress. Blueberry and strawberry fingers- not so much.  I choose my hugs with discretion after brunch.)

But hubby had suggested that we would have to wait a while to get in to any good brunch place, and suggested the deli down the street.  This was a very good call on his part. The little bitties and I (ok, especially me) get a little crabby when we have to wait for our meals.  We had a lovely lunch, which took half the time of a normal brunch, and returned home for a quick rest.

I am taking a few minutes to write out my thoughts from the day (while sitting on my beautiful, and more importantly, clean, back porch).  Then I will head out to the trails for a run.

It has been a wonderful day.  And I can honestly say, I’m happy I didn’t get exactly what I had hoped for. Instead, I got to build new memories with my hubby and children.

  • The girls giggled over their food, and snuck over to grab the strawberries and melons off my plate. (LOL, how many moms ever get to eat their own food?) As long as they didn’t hug me afterwards, I was alright with anything.
  • We joked about new nicknames for each of us. The girls decided I was “Ichilolo”, and daddy was proclaimed “Manure”.  Honestly, I did not make up these names. They came up with them all by themselves. J
  • Both girls gave me new handmade cards
  • My daughter gave me a Hershey Kiss. I confirmed that this was actually received from church today, and not from a candy basket from last Halloween. She also brought up the idea that maybe it would make me happier if I shared it with her. So I bit off the top, and gave her the rest.
  • They both called me beautiful. One said I had lost weight. One said I was a genius.

Mother’s Day could not have been any more perfect. I have the love of my husband, the love and adoration of two awesome girls, and a pretty blessed life.  I love being their mother. And I am thankful for them and my husband.

Happy Mother’s Day!

-Katherine

Inner Child on the Run

skin is waterproof_ run

I have had kind of a rough “mommy” week. As some of you already know, my youngest child has been recovering from surgery last week.  The recovery has been going well, with some ups and downs here and there. But nothing too big to deal with.  I was even blessed with a very much appreciated OTK session from my beloved hubby.  But I still needed another outlet.

 (Note: Running has always been a big part of my life.  But I have backed off a bit since having children.  I started back into structured training, this year, in the hopes of alleviating some of my moodiness. I get VERY crabby when I don’t get my endorphin release).

Sunday afternoon, after a particularly long day of (PMS induced) extreeeeeeeeme crabbiness, Hubby decided to push me out the door for a much needed run.

It didn’t matter to him that it was 59 degrees and a torrential downpour.  He reminded me that ten years earlier, I would have been out there even if it was 20 degrees colder, and sleeting! He handed me a hat, swatted my bottom, and told me to “get out there and run!”

He also reminded me that an elite runner would not be making faces and acting uncomfortable during the run.

“Smile. Enjoy it,” he said.  “Make everyone else wish they were as dedicated as you,”

“Ugh, you’re right,” I rolled my eyes, “An elite runner hides her pneumonia from the neighbors, and smiles as she wheezes,”

That got me another, much harder swat, and a grunt, as he pushed me out the door.

I set off on my four mile trek through the water logged sidewalks, leaping over puddles, and watching for cars. One neighbor did drive past, laughing, and asked if I wanted a ride. I pasted a big smile on my face, and thanked him, and told him he could check on me in a few miles.

The great thing about running in cold stinging rain, is the solitude. No one is crazy enough to join you.  And you can’t get lost in emotions and thoughts like on a normal run (lest you miss a huge puddle, and find yourself swimming through the cross walk).  The run is, a RUN.

Nothing else matters at that moment.  You lose almost everything else around you except for the running itself.  Besides watching for the occasional dip in a sidewalk, everything else is awareness based.  You have nothing else to think about but the run, the elements, and how your body is reacting to all of it.

When I held my chest high and pressed out, I easily accepted the cold air into my lungs.  It was so invigorating!

I pumped my arms, keeping them loose and strong.

I lifted my feet, and stretched out my legs, feeling each connection with the wet, but no longer frigid pavement.

I luxuriated in the sharp stinging sensation of the bitterly cold drops lashing at my arms through my jacket.  I stripped it off, since it was not doing its job of protecting me, and I was already soaked.

And then the realization hit me.

I loved this!

I was the crazy, fun loving girl from ten years ago, with the ‘ship eating grin’ and manic giggle, running in the freezing rain- and enjoying it!

Oh, how I had missed this!

I stopped jumping over the puddles, choosing instead to slosh through them, soaking my already drenched feet.

My legs were so heavy and red from the cold rain.  My long, wet pony tail kept smacking my cheek, so I learned to be careful about sudden head movement.  And I did not care about any of it.

For 48-50 minutes, I was free from everything.  I was just a runner.  Alone on the roads. Taking pleasure where I could find it.

I let out a whoop, and tilted my head back to allow some of the rain to pool into my mouth. The exquisite taste of the pure frigid drops left me gasping, shuddering, wanting more! I spent the next mile sticking my tongue out for occasional sips, grinning and cackling like a mad woman.

I even added on two extra miles to the end. I was already drenched, and my body had somewhat acclimated, so why not?

I’m sure anyone who got a glimpse of me in my “free state” will forever be telling the tale of the crazy woman in the biker shorts, soaked from head to toe, grinning like an idiot, and tasting the rain drops, as she barreled through puddles, screaming like a banshee.

What a great run!

What a great escape!

And what a fun way to find the inner child / crazy woman that I thought had been lost so many years ago.

Thank you Hubby, for the push out the door.

And the hat.

I like me – I really like me

running happy girl

I have in-laws coming this weekend.

My house is in shambles, and I have been trying not to tear my hair out, while getting ready for their visit. The good news is that I had some very productive internal musings, while I cleaned.

As I frantically vacuumed popcorn kernels out of the guest room carpet (AND chair… AND Murphy bed), I had a stunning revelation.

My frenzied attempts at preparation for my husband’s sister, is the same thing I am going through with my writing.  (Ok, it’s a little bit different). She actually does not like me, and thinks me beneath her and her brother. I have tried so hard to make her like me.

Come on! I am a nice person! Like me, dang it! Like me!

(As you can see, I am a people pleaser. My whole life has revolved around making people happy, and getting the affirmation that I desired).

But she doesn’t like me, and will probably come into my house, and judge its upkeep (I admit, that I am not much of a house cleaner), turn down her nose at our huge collection of disembodied Barbie’s and My Little Ponies, and will steal my husband away from me for 4 whole days.

But a good friend explained to me that I was in control of this situation. I do not have to let her make me feel badly.  I do not have to hang around and feel unloved. I can go on a walk with the kids, or go read.  She reminded me that I am allowing my SIL, out of the goodness of my heart, to come into my house, and spend valuable time with her brother. She can borrow him, but she will have to give him back. He is mine. This house and everything in it is mine (ours). I don’t have to let her control the situation. And it’s ok if she won’t accept my friendship. I will keep offering. But it won’t make me a lesser person if she does not deem me worthy to be in her life.

So, while I was attempting to clean a whole room full of Barbie appendages and old cheezits, and trying not to cry, my muse finally made her appearance.  I have been worrying too much about the affirmation of others.  I want people to hear my voice, but am unsure how to do it.  I thought that showcasing my wit and intelligence would bring me respect.  I did a post on intimacy, hoping that people would see that I wasn’t just a fun person to laugh at / with. (Semantics, I know).  But that I was a respectable member of the author community with a brain and the potential to start stimulating conversations.

But let’s be honest. My strengths aren’t intellectual and stimulating conversations.

My strength comes from my emotions.  I wear my heart on a sleeve, and express myself through these enthusiastic, and sometimes vulnerable sentiments.

This is who I am. This is what I like to write about.

I prefer energy and passion, and dynamic expression to big four syllable words. (I almost wrote “dynamism”, LOL 🙂 But it wouldn’t have been my voice.)

I am pondering changing my next blog post on intimacy. I was going to talk about female intimacy, the 5 levels of intimacy, and segue it all into the interview with my new favorite author.

But my muse is not going for the academic blog post.

She craves emotion!

So I am going to work on a compromise to talk about some of my feelings about intimacy, and yes, I will include spanking talk, while also using some of the information I gleaned from my time online. (I would totally hate to waste perfectly good research time.)  But for the most part, I will stay true to my voice, my passionate side.

I hope some people will like me. But what I learned from “house cleaning hell / validation attempt 2013”, is

I am who I am.

I can’t force someone to like me.

But I can remember the most important thing –

I like me.

Non sexual Intimacy – part 1 – Band of Brothers

I really enjoy a good spanking story, especially a romance where the strong alpha male upends the leading lady, and follows it up with a passionate love making session.  Almost all my favorite stories include this dynamic.  Mmmm, I love a good spanking.

Spanking is a very intimate act, which I enjoy reading about and also physically partaking in.

Then I read a book that tilted my world on its axis.  In this story, the main character implemented spankings for punishment, stress relief, and release from guilt.  These physical chastisements were done out of love. Theirs was one of the most intimate and loving relationships I have ever read.

But there was no sex! Surely there had to be some sort of sexual release at the end of such an intimate act! Society maintains that intimacy and sexuality go hand in hand. You can’t have one without the other. It’s physiology, right? Being the ODD (oppositional defiance disorder) type of personality that I am, I had to see if I could disprove this social theory.  I came up with the following questions:

  1. What is intimacy?
  2. Does intimacy always lead to sex?
  3. If spanking is considered an intimate act, does a spanking always lead to sex?
  4. Is it possible to have an intimate relationship, without indulging in sexual relations?

After several very interesting internal dialogues (I have some awesome conversations with myself), some researching online, and a bit of intense “people watching”, I decided to share my thoughts on my blog. What follows is a three part mini-series about intimacy and the plausibility of it in a non-sexual relationship.

Today’s post will be about “brotherly intimacy”.  I am using the military as my reference, since my husband and I met in the Army.  We have almost 30 years of military experience between the two of us, and understand the framework of unit cohesion and safety.

My second post will be about “sisterly intimacy”. (I’m still working on this one. There is so much to choose from. If you have a favorite movie, literary work, or historical couple to suggest, please do so. Thanks in advance) J

My final post will be an interview with Anastasia Vitsky, author of “The Way Home”.

This is the story that started all of this, and got my brain moving in the direction of rational processing again.  (Since this does not happen very often, we will also have a celebratory glass of wine afterward.)

We will be discussing the intimacy between her two main characters – yes, one of them gets spanked, a lot! – And how she was able to create this intimacy without the burden of a sexual relationship. We will finally be able to talk about my favorite thing- spankings!

But first, post one – the guys…

band_of_brothers_freres_armes_fond_ecran_1024x768

Non-sexual Intimacy (Band of Brothers)

Society has told us for so long now, that intimacy among two people is not possible without sex.

I don’t believe this is to be 100%  true.

I think there is such thing as a familial bond even for those who are not bonded by blood.

The need to protect, and nurture, and love a person so unconditionally, that you would die for them.  And sex is not even a part of it.

The relationship can be fraternal or paternal.

(1)Wikipedia explains that genuine human intimacy requires dialogue, transparency, vulnerability, and reciprocity.

When I think of this explanation, I think of the military, more specifically soldiers at war.  The men sharing a foxhole on the front lines had to trust each other.  Their very lives and the lives of the rest of their unit, depended on the actions of the man next to them.  This relationship was created through their vulnerability.  There were very little secrets among these soldiers.  They shared their families, hopes, and dreams, through their dialog.  They saw each other unclothed; they provided medical service for injuries; and had to take care of biological functions very close to each other.  Privacy was a luxury for non-war time.  These “brothers in arms” perfectly show us the meaning of non-sexual intimacy in a relationship.

My husband and I are former military. He served on Active Duty during Desert Shield and Desert Storm. I joined the Army National Guard when I turned 18, and remained mostly stateside.  One of our favorite mini-series was “Band of Brothers”.  It portrayed the lives of the young men of Easy Company, from their paratrooper training through the end of World War 2.  This show contained everything a former military couple could want; action, drama, honor, bravery, loyalty, personal growth, personal loss, and intimacy.

These men were brothers, who lived and died for each other.

The intimacy in their relationships provided them with strong emotional attachments.

These attachments gave them a society in which to belong.

And this society was where they felt safe.

These relationships were the epitome of intimacy, held together by the deepest desires to be safe and loved and nurtured.

Yes, intimacy is a very deep connection that can lead to sexual activity. But is it necessary? Is it definitive?

In the case of The Brothers, I opine a clear and resounding, “NO”.

Their close bonds helped them work together, stay safe, and fight their wars (both physical and personal). Their intimacy was intense, deep, and did not necessitate sex.

Questions for the day:

  1. Do you have a father or grandfather who served during war time? Did he ever talk about the intimacy he shared with his fellow troops?
  2. Can you think of any other intimate acts or relationships that are not sexual?
  3. Are there any other male characters historical or fictitious, that you can think of, who portray an intimate relationship that does not include a sexual component?

Thanks for joining me today. Please come back for the next installment of the intimacy mini-series.

And if you have the chance, please thank someone who has served. Because of them, we can talk freely about cool stuff like spankings and sex!

Yeah for freedom! 🙂