Sex (Blog) Tourism

Yes, we re still in the road, safely ensconced in a Best Western smack dab against a Wal-Mart Super Center, in an Illinois town that I can neither spell nor pronounce (but it does remind me of that Disney animated movie about a rat who aspires to be a gourmet chef).

Thursday night we ended up in Abilene, Kansas, at an off the beaten path motel that our daughters would have rejected as "sketchy". But the bed was comfy, and we found a rather seedy restaurant for some hearty grub a little too crammed with flat screen TV's,  a trend that sadly seems to have infected America's eataries from sea to shining sea. The staff was very chipper though, if a little on the TMI side. (When a customer  asks for his waitress I'm not sure I want to be hear that "she's cleaning the restrooms, but will be done in a minute")

Back at our motel, I opened a bottle of Tequilla for Mistress, who needed to wash that greasy food taste out of her lovely mouth. Soon we were in bed, and after some worship as a digestive, she got a little feisty.

"I want to ride my cock now, Slave...." And ride she did, taking her good old heartland time to take her self to Oz and back. When she had her fill of her "mount", the tables were reversed and Slave took his pleasure, working out the kinks from a long day in the car. While we had missed checking off "sex in Kansas" from the punch card on our way West, that mission had now finally been accomplished.

We highly recommend it.

Friday morning I had an early conference call, walking the quiet streets of this former "cowtown", which was at the top of the Chisholm Trail, the place where the cattle raised and fattened in Texas would be placed in rail cars for the trip east. (I did notice this sign at our motel, and am still wondering what it means. any help?)

When my call was done, I was able to wake Mistress with a little more worship and some wake-up sex before we headed out to the Eisenhower library and Museum, just a few blocks away. It was pastoral, and well suited to the bland fellow I recall as a kid, but not nearly as engaging as the Truman Museum we visited on our trip West. I noted two people missing from all the memorabilia and narrative: Ike's VP, Dick Nixon, and his reputed "girlfriend", the WAC driver Kay Summersby. (Mistress was a little shocked when I shared that story from my old guy memory bank).

After our tour, we were back in the car. And Mistress had a backlog of text messages.

The WC was sharing details of his "epic" sex, doming his wife, B, both of them inspired by the book Donna had sent, written by the Master of LaDomaine.  Donna, maybe you should give us a review?  It sounds as if the WC got to put his ass fucking tutorial to use.

And of course, she also herd from Francois, who is warming her up for her return to River City (yes, folks, we will make it back, by Sunday, after a brief detour today for a football game at my alma mater).

On the drive we even skyped with our daughter in Belgium, who described how she and her new buddies often stop off at a little cafe after school for a beer to decompress. I guess she's not in Kansas anymore.

Nor were we. By dinner time we were on the banks of the Mississippi, in Hannibal, Mo. the boyhood home of Samuel Clemmons, aka, Mark Twain. It was an opportune time to stretch our legs and walk around this cute, if touristy, little river town, that was all things Twain. But of course there was also "The first coffee shop (with wi-fi) West of the Mississippi.

Mistress is still snoozing, but I think it will soon be time to wake her.... most likely with a tongue wiggling it's way between her lovely thighs.