One Down

I suppose I should be grateful that sorority girls are disinclined to do anything before 11 am on a Saturday morning.

That was the announced time for our departure to her campus yesterday, giving Mistress and Slave some time for a leisurely session of worship and fucking in the executive suite here at the UCTMW World HQ, followed by a bike ride in some mercifully cool weather here before we loaded up TWO vehicles for the hour drive to her leafy, bucolic campus just north of here.

Don't get me started on all the stuff that she needed to haul up there. Lots of clothes, shoes and other paraphernalia , much of which consisted of the equipment you need to help store, stack or contain all the stuff you are trying to shmush into a small space while still making room for another sorority's girls stuff and related containment and storage devices. This might lead a father to explain that with less "stuff" you might not need quite as much other stuff for storage, stacking and containment. But I do know when to shut up.

The biggest, heaviest item was a double sized futon / couch which barely fit between the two girls' single beds. Useful for..... well, I don;t think we want to go there, do we?

So once we hit campus, it was Slave's job to help haul all that stuff up to the 2nd floor room, as the women folk set to the organizational tasks - making beds, finding plugs for electronic devices, etc.

Fortunately, there was another father / field slave available when it came time to haul that futon up the stairs.  I am very hopeful that next year, when our sorority girl no doubt will want to move into an off-campus house or apartment, there are some Frat Boys in her life who can do some of this heavy lifting!  If not, then what was the point of hauling that double sized futon upstairs in the first place?

I know there are some readers out there wondering if Slave got an eyeful of the other sorority girls moving in. I did notice a few of them splayed on their beds as I was hauling stuff past open dorm room doors. There was even a sort of cute blonde wrapped in only a towel, emerging from the showers, which are communal, not "en suite".

But quite frankly, young nubile vacuous sorority girls are not my cup of tea. I much prefer the experienced, wise and authoritative Mistress in my life.

After a lunch on the cute little main street of this throw back college town, where one would expect to see Betty and Veronica emerging from the local Malt shop, we gave our daughter a hug goodbye and headed home.

The sullen teen had accompanied us, and dismissed the place with three words: "Way too preppy."

True.  This is definitely Paul Ryan territory. Not for her, and I am grateful that she has her own values.

Back at home we needed to crash, and a nice nap, followed by an evening watching a cute but vapid movie at home was in order.

Mistress did fret a bit that our sex life has gotten a little vanilla of late. Too much time spent dealing with kids and work stresses.  But these things go in cycles, don't they?  A week from now our other daughter will be gone off to college, and the nest will be emptied for at least a few months.

But there's no need to contain ourselves until then.  It is Switch Day here, after all.  Maybe I can "whip something up" to surprise Mistress?