We woke to the big political news of the day, mining the internet, twitter and facebook for all the gossip of the new VP candidate on the GOP side. Picking the Wisconsin wunderkind best known for his cutmageddon budget plan had the Republican faithful in the type of fawning tizzy not seen since Bob Dole picked Jack Kemp to put a little juice in his campaign in 1996.
Even J got into the act, texting with both of us about the big news, and pointing out Ryan's uncanny resemblance to this 60's era TV star:
As the moment for the big Ryan roll-out approached on Saturday morning, we realized the window for wake-up sex would be closing soon, so the computers were tucked away, and Slave got down to worshiping those clean shaven folds that had seen plenty of action the evening before over at J's love shack.
"My back's a little sore, Slave, so go easy on me....."
"Too much cock riding?"
"Could be....."
Awww.... poor Mistress.
After we both enjoyed the fruits of our Saturday morning engagement, it was back to the TV . The ponderous musical selection seemed to spring from the golden trumpet of the Angel Moroni himself. Someone tweeted that it was actually the theme from that old movie "Air Force One." Sadly, Harrison Ford was not in the house to make the whole enterprise look "presidential".
We were amused when, in his effort to show enthusiasm, the former Massachusetts Governor and personal savior of the Olympic movement (with plenty of our tax dollars) introduced his newly anointed running mate as "the next President of the United States...."
"Is he already throwing in the towel .... and launching Ryan's 2016 campaign?"
But once the actual bloviating began, we'd had enough. We were off on a nice morning bikeride, after which Mistress took the girls on a "back to college" shopping binge. Slave had his work cut out restaining and sealing our deck. Every now and then I have to switch to field slave duties.
It wasn't until around 4 pm that we were able to reunite in the Executive Suite. Luckily, both girls had plans and we had no schedule. We settled in for a long late afternoon nap, followed by some more worship and fucking, with no political news to distract us.
Nice. Very nice.
Later we took dinner at a new hipster Taco joint in an old city neighborhood , with a southwest ambiance that will be the closest thing to our mountain hideaway we will see this month. We had hoped J could join us, but he got sucked into helping his parents move this weekend. But that did get us into some "cuckold / threeway" protocol issues.
"J says he let slip to his Mom that he's seeing "someone", and now his Mom says he should bring that "someone" over to meet them, Slave...."
Dinner with the boyfriend's parents? Now that would be interesting.
"That's OK by me, Mistress....."
"The problem is, how to explain all this.... he says they are pretty conservative and might not get the 'she's married but it's ok with her husband' thing....."
"Ahhhh..... that could be a little dicey....."
"J says his Mom would immediately start asking all sorts of questions.... and it is a small town....."
Yes, it is. Too many connections that cam easily be made. As our kids would say.... "awkward."
Somehow J will have to finesse this for a while with Mom and Dad. Do any of our readers have any tips on how to deal with this delicate issue of social protocol? Is there a potential kinky version of "Meet the Parents" in all this?
Should I send a letter to Dear Abby? Or Miss Manners?
