Mistress and Slave Slip Under the Radar

"Let's act like we're having an affair, Slave...."

That's our theme this weekend.

Cloak and dagger.

Surreptitious.

We've decided to slip out of town and remove our cyber-feetprints for a few days.

Well, expect for our kids, and you.... our mystery friends in sex blog land.

On the work front, Mistress has a rather insane boss who, no matter how well she performs, always wants more. A later than usual lunch hour this week produced a "where are you" text message.

"She stalks me on facebook and linked-in, Slave...."

Mistress does not like being tracked down.

For me its the extended family. After months of my nagging, my reluctant sister decided this was the week to deposit my cranky Mother in an "independent living" facility. I made it clear that my schedule for this weekend was set. I spent the morning at her place yesterday assisting the packers, and disposing of trash that should have been tossed years ago, learning that my mother never threw away a twist tie or jar top in 20 years.  Did you know that pantyhose once sold for $1.99. She has unopened packs to prove it.

That plus the upcoming theatrics involving a daughter's wedding next weekend.... well, we needed to escape, without the groans of disapproval and eyerolls that more facebook posts from the happy couple at the beach or in some funky restaurant would generate.

So while my sister is now seeking cyber back pats on facebook by posting about the joys of spending the weekend with my mother in her new digs, Slave has absconded with my Mistress to a secret hideaway, where no one but you, dear readers, realize that we are avoiding all responsibilities and wallowing in libidinous fun.

We slid out of Mistress's parking lot a little after 1:15 pm. I was planning on doing some rearranging, plugging in phones, etc. in front of her office, but no.

"Let's get out of her fast, Slave. I don't want anyone to see that I'm leaving."

"Yes, Mistress."

By 6:30 we were here. heading out on a short but lovely bikeride along the bluffs overlooking the beach.

By 7:30 we were in bed, Slave feasting on those clean shaven folds, and indulging in a long session of fucking Mistress to our hearts' (and other body parts) content.

At dinner, a little roadhouse around the corner from our Inn, I was tempted to take one of those pictures of my fetching Mistress, toasting with her Scotch on the rocks, that would be suitable for facebook.

"No Slave.... remember..... let's just pretend we're having an affair this weekend.... it's our secret."

But at least not from you folks.