Seed Swap?

Here in our little corner of heaven, Mistress and slave have been thoroughly enjoying the weekend. At about 3 pm on Friday - when the work day ends back in River City - we breath a joint sigh of relief knowing that whatever client demands there may be we can fob them off until Monday morning.

That meant a little more stress free time for Mistress to lounge in the sun, before our late afternoon nap time. And after the nap....well the freedom from work stress triggered a second round of love making for the day, with Mistress engaging in some rather rowdy cock riding to power through an extra cum or three before the dust settled.

Friday night was our "night on the town" for the weekend.

First there was dinner at a cute local Trattoria which offers Mistress's favorite - crispy crusted gluten free pizza, dressed "St. Patrick's Day" style, with green pesto rather than red sauce.

Then we headed to an ancient, low ceilinged  cantina, to hear a local rocker we follow when in town. This hole in the all joint attracts a rather scruffy but diverse crowd, that runs the gamut from native Americans to cowboys to lesbians, and a rather bizarre assortment of costumes to match. But the big surprise was that as the band was still setting up, the TV screen over the bar was tuned to the final minutes of my alma mater battling through its first round game in the NCAA tournament.

I have become so jaded about my team's "one and done" hex (last year was an exception) that I didn't even bother to set aside time to waste  witnessing their typical first round bust.  I had checked the score at halftime over our pizza to confirm my suspicion - yes, trailing once again by double digits to a lower seeded team.

So I was stunned to see that the score was now tied, and to watch my team build a lead with some timely defense and clutch free throw shooting as the seconds tick away. The luck of the Irish lasted to the day after St. Patrick's Day! That and watching the locals bust some rather unique dance moves in their unusual regalia (the super-sized native American lady in the neon red track suit was my favorite) more than made a great way to kick off our weekend.

But what about today's headline, which no doubt attracted the attention of Terri over at a Married Sissy and any of our cuckold-centric readers?

Driving into town the other day, the local radio mentioned an up coming "seed swap".

"Wow, Mistress, are they going all kinky here in the high desert on us?"

Our imaginations ran wild at the thought of those rugged local ladies bringing their submissive male partners in to some local venue, where drinks, dinner and a silent auction awaited, followed by an opportunity to sample  whatever exotic discharges might be "on tap". Variety is the spice of life, after all. And a little preliminary fluffing couldn't hurt, right?

But alas. When I paged through the local paper the next day, this city-slicker discovered that a "seed swap" was something much less kinky, and far more agrarian.

You can imagine my disappointment.  But the kinkier version a concept worth trying out for your next non-profit fundraiser, dear readers!

But remember, always engage in safe seed swapping!