Decontamination

It was a very eventful weekend here in River City.

Friday night, after a busy week, there was some "home from work" sex in the executive suite, followed by a little in home "picnic".

Saturday, after some hot wake-up sex, Slave took his grandkids on an outing, while Mistress did a long bike ride with her former fuck-buddy and still biking pal, Jay.  His son was away for the week, freeing up his schedule, and their plan was for him to join us at home to watch my alma mater play what turned out to be a desultory late afternoon game against the Sooners.

After I dumped off the grandkids, and was doing some grocery shopping, Mistress texted that she was showering over there, with one of those little smiley faces.  This got me wondering about how that would work and whether a shower would turn into something more....

But apparently not.... they both showed up around game time, and Mistress whipped up some guacamole for us. Later, after burgers and a pathetic performance by my team, I asked Mistress how her "ride" had gone....

"Well, Slave.... we did shower together, and Jay's hands roved a bit.... but nothing really happened...., we're like old pals....who used to have sex."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering about the mysteries of human relationships, and wandering paws.

After the game, Mistress and Slave went to a music festival in an older part of town. Lots of people watching, with folks seemingly aspiring to the hipster look, as if going to a casting call for Portlandia. We couldn't stay out too late though, because Mistress had a date in the morning with our muddy ol' river.

It was the annual across-the-river-and-back swim, something she has done with a group of crazies for three years in a row now. Slave is not quite so foolish. I tend to think of all the chemicals and sludge that flows into the river as it meanders from Pittsburgh and through West Virginia on its way to our humble town. When she jumped into the river with some fellow swimmers, their whining about how cold the water was made me particularly proud of my own good judgment.

Fortunately, Mistress made it back in one piece, chilled, but with no limbs missing due to an encounter with a giant, mutant catfish. We stopped for some breakfast on the way home, Mistress still chilled. And when we made it home, she was determined to climb back into bed to catch up on sleep and our Sunday morning sexual rituals.  But first,  a shower. Maybe we should have had Jay stick around: