Dinner With Mr. Perfect Cock

Before we get into Mistress's strategy for avoiding Sunday NFL widowhood, let me address Friday evening. You may recall the plan whereby Slave would make dinner for a certain would be Dom who was going to come over and cast his spell on Mistress?

Well Mr. Would be Dom had a last minute "scheduling snafu" that forced him to cancel on Mistress late Friday afternoon. It left her wondering if he was yet another guy who likes to talk big via email, text and telephone, but gets cold feet when it comes time to deliver. Somehow I think he may have trouble getting back onto Mistress's busy schedule anytime soon.

But I threw cold water on her initial  thought of posting a bitchy blog on the theme of "I'm done with these assholes once and for all", because I had a feeling she might have a change of heart once the prospect of an eager and earnest cock popped up on the horizon.

And, sure enough, by Saturday morning, when texts from "Mr. Perfect Cock" (aka, K) began to arrive wondering how her weekend was going and if she might be interested in a visit, she suddenly reconsidered that resolution.

"So , remind me, what's our plan for Sunday, Slave?"

I mentioned my hopes of watching the late afternoon showdown from Mitt Romney's new hometown between the Pussycats and the Bolts.

"Maybe we invite K over for dinner, Slave? He says he'd like to meet you."

"I'm happy to do the cooking, Mistress."

So Slave went to the grocery, and did a little leaf raking early Sunday, while Mistress spent some platonic afternoon time with J and his son, who has now moved into the former "Love Shack". Then we both met back at the UCTMW World HQ for a nap before the evening's festivities.

K arrived at half time in the Pussycats game, after Slave had prepped for dinner.

In physical terms, he was exactly as Mistress advertised: about 6' 1" or so, very fit, and Abercrombie Model handsome.

I can see why Mistress was smitten in a sort of little girl in a candy shop sort of way. And since he's almost 20 years younger than old Mick, well, he seemed more like a potential son-in-law to me than a contemporary.

There was that slightly awkward moment when Slave opened the door to greet him. He had that look in the eye that suggested he figured there was a not inconsiderable chance I had a chain saw hidden behind my back.

But we overcame that as he saw Mistress seated on the couch, looking Sunday jeans casual. And I poured them both a glass of wine, then say down again to watch the 2nd half.  There were a few awkward moments when Mistress speculated aloud that maybe K would prefer to watch the game with me rather than adjourn to her boudoir for something less passive and more physical. (It was pretty obvious to me what K had in mind, though he may have been a tad reluctant to say so in mixed company).

So I made an excuse to go grab another bottle of wine from the basement to let her close that deal. Sure enough, I was coming back up the stairs when I heard Mistress call out "We'll be just upstairs, Slave....."

This allowed Slave to enjoy the game - a nifty come from behind win in the final minutes affair for the River City team - knowing that Mistress was hardly getting bored.

I did feel a little intrusive when - the game over and Slave getting hungry - I called upstairs to suggest it might be time to eat soon. It was approaching 8 pm by then, and I had heard nothing from them tad an occasional groan of floor board or moan of delight from Mistress once I had turned off the TV.

Mistress called back and asked how much time they had.  I suggested 15 minutes, hoping that would allow the Perfect Cock time to bring things to a suitable climax. I mean they'd been at it for at least an hour already, right?

But ultimately they did re-emerge, Mistress now in a silky cream colored robe. (I forgot to check to see if there were any undies underneath).

At dinner, K was the perfect guest - cleaning his plate and asking for 2nds. He had worked up an appetite, and a chef always likes to see his art appreciated.

And it turns out he's not nearly as dull and full of himself as his informal title might suggest, despite the protestations from the WC.

He's an engineer for a local company, played NCAA hockey for one of those well known east coast programs, and can talk about cooking, architecture and other suitable topics, though he seems a tad clueless in the political realm.And he still plays hockey in a local men's league.

He is quiet though. "Taciturn" was the word I would use. But not in a bad way. More in that Gary Cooper kind of way. It could be  his Danish family background.

I let the two of them talk after dinner as I did the clean up.  And after he left, Mistress had good reviews for their evening together.

"I did a lot of cock riding Slave....."

"And I'll bet lots of cums too?"

"Yes..... he says I'm the most attractive woman he's been with...."

"That doesn't surprise me in the least, Mistress....."

"He is kind of perfect, Slave.... his body is rather amazing.... he's in great shape."

That does sound like a nice alternative to watching NFL football, doesn't it?