It’s funny how even the simplest things can turn kinky in this house. I’ve been trying to be a good daughter and call my Mom at least a couple of times per week. Now that she’s got cancer, I call her nearly every day. She doesn’t have anyone to talk to really, since my Dad is unable to speak. Lately though, talking to Mom on the phone is getting on my last nerve. I love her, but she’s doing some seriously stupid things, and it is getting out of hand. For example, while she was in the hospital to have surgery on her heart, she was told she could no longer have caffeine. Once she had her surgery and they found out she had a blockage in her artery, they told her she definitely could not have caffeine, so no coffee. My aunt told me that Mom was having Dad sneak her in coffee, and I called the nurse to tell her it was going on so that she could put a stop to it and maybe explain to my Mom why she can’t have coffee now.
Called Mom up yesterday, and she’s drinking coffee again, but there’s no one who is going to tell her not to. I tried to explain to her why she couldn’t, and she was obviously tuning me out. There’s lots of other little things she’s doing that are really getting to me, but honestly, it isn’t like there is anything I can do from here. It’s incredibly stressful and frustrating. From talking with her, it’s obvious that she simply doesn’t understand. She has always been in the camp that what you eat doesn’t affect your body, so she definitely doesn’t get that a blockage means no caffeine. While it seems small, the helplessness of not being able to understand why she won’t just do what her doctor tells her to is just really bothering me. It’s getting to the point where I don’t want to call and talk to her at all. After all, why would I want to listed to her explain how she’s killing herself? Master is a better son than I am a daughter, though. He reminds me that we’ve got to be supportive even if it means listening to the horrible things she’s doing. I know he is right, but that doesn’t make it any easier.
Usually on the weekends, we call together, so that we can put Mom on speaker phone and if one of us is annoyed, the other of us can talk to Mom. Hey, it works. Last night when we called Master and me were sitting on the bed. Before long, Master moved around to the side of the bed, and began punching my arm. Hard. He moved from my arm to my thigh to my other arm and thigh, and kept having me rotate as he saw fit. It was fun! The whole thing turned a tedious convo with Mom into a “fun game”, and I think my endorphins were high enough that I didn’t bother getting angry over the things Mom was saying.
After we hung up, maybe twenty minutes later, my arms were feeling pretty good and warmed up and I was ready to keep going. Master wanted to stop as bruises were already forming deeply in my arms and thighs. We giggled and I mentioned how we should do that every time we have to call family. Master said he did it because he thought I’d like talking to my Mom more if he did. Yep.
The funny thing is, it almost made me think of the times that I would be hidden under Master’s desk (not that I really needed to hide, but I guess that was part of the fun of it) while he made conference calls to work. He would have me kneel down there, and Master would try to be as quiet as possible, while I tried to give him the best blowjob ever to try to make him moan out loud. I think punching is my kind of blowjob. And, if this is the feeling guys get when they are getting blowjobs, I can understand why they want them so often.