Kinky Kansas

Mistress and slave are driving west to our SW hideaway. We crossed Indiana, Ill and MO yesterday, coming to ground at about the halfway point in Abilene, KS.  That's the home of Dwight Eisenhower, who is doing back flips in his grave, on the grounds of the Presidential library here in Abilene, over the shenanigans of the current POTUS.

After checking into our rather rustic but very cheap local motel, we headed into town to find a place for dinner.  Just look for the grain elevator if you're looking for "downtown" in these parts.  But as we were rubbernecking through the town's historic district, I caught the dreaded sign of a flashing red light in my rear view mirror.

Busted.

The officer took his time to amble up to my car, with the "alien" license plates. After asking for my driver's license and registration, he informed me that I had been clocked going 31 in a 20 mph zone.

"Really?  I thought I saw a 30 mph sign...."

"A lot of people get confused because there's a sign back there reducing the limit to 20 mph in the downtown...."

Oops.  He asked what we were doing in "these parts". And I explained our mission and that we were looking for a place to eat.

After running my license to confirm I was not a terrorist on the lam, he showed us some Kansas nice mercy, giving us only a warning.  Then he upped the courtesy.

"If you're looking for somewhere to eat, The best place is the "Farmhouse" out  west of town.  It's where all of us in the Department go for lunch."

I asked for directions, but he said "just follow me." We both took u turns on the wide downtown avenue, and he led us out of town, and right up the drive of this funky old restaurant. The officer said Dwight and Mamie dined there when they visited town (back in the day).

It turned out we were late diners - the only guests there at 7:30 pm.  Our very courteous waitress pointed out the chairs autographed by Dwight and Mamie, and served us some tasty chicken fried chicken with mashed potatoes. (I didn't question the redundancy -- isn't "chicken fried chicken" the same as "fried chicken"?)

But the odd thing I did have to ask about was all the paddles hanging from the wall.

"It's a tradition. If you eat here on your birthday, you get a discount and a paddling."

She  explained that even  Ike got paddled when he stopped by, by the original owner, "Aunt Lena". Ike must have had a very tolerant Secret Service detail!

As we checked out, Mistress noted the paddle on the counter, with several autographs.  Our waitress(the only waitress), a 20 something country girl with a pleasing smile, explained that when a guest gets paddled he/she signs the paddle. She pointed out several buckets stuffed with paddles covered with autographs.

So it seems there are a surprising number of Kansans who indulge in public displays of corporal punishment.

"Now that Lena's not around, who does the paddling?"

She gave me a little quirky smile.

"Your waitress, of course."

As I paid our very reasonable tab, I mentioned that Mistress's birthday is coming up in a few weeks.
"I won't ask for the discount, but maybe you could give my wife her birthday paddling?"

She seemed willing, but Mistress gave me that "are you crazy, slave" look.

Ah well, it would have made a good story, particularly if Mistress was required to pull up her dress and pull down her panties.

Riders on the Storm

Mistress and slave dropped their adventurous Co-Ed off at the airport this morning at 5 am. She's got a one-way ticket to Europe, where she is completing her "studies".  It's unclear when she will return. That put a lump in her Dad's throat when we gave her a goodbye hug this morning.  I suppose if she has no plans to return here, we can visit her right?

After having disposed somewhat reluctantly of our darling, we took to the highway, heading west.  As we left River City behind it was 67 degrees, raining and flashing lightning.  Huh?  It's December 27th.  That's April weather.

But the weather is changeable as you cross the Mississippi River heading toward the rockies.

Right now Mistress is at the wheel somewhere West of Topeka, KS and its 29 degrees.

Thanks to our on board wi-fi I can see the "Goliath" snow storm (as dubbed by the weather channel) vectoring our way.  With a little luck we can cross central Kansas before 10 pm tonight, find a sleazy motel, ride out the storm in the close confines of a cozy bed, sharing bodily warmth as the blizzard rages outside.

It's certainly better than getting stuck in a snow drift.

And it will definitely enhance slave's chance of keeping his cum streak alive!

Westward Ho

It's been a crazy few days for Slave:

Saturday Mistress and slave had a chance for our last "two-a-day" for a while , with an afternoon "nap" time squeezed between a visit to my cranky aging mother and a night with three of my daughters with the Pussycats, who did a nice job making Jay Cutler looked like chopped liver.

Sunday I hopped in the car with my youngest daughter at 6:30 am, off loaded her at college on the East Coast 10 hours later, then caught a late night flight back to River City. Mistress was kind enough to pick me up at the airport. We made it home around 1 am Monday morning. So it was a "no sex" Sunday, at least for me. (I haven't asked whether Mistress broke out her favorite power tool in my absence.)

Monday we did get some nice semi-awake-up sex in, then it was a day at the office for me, and an afterwork cookout with some political types.

This morning, it was back in the car. We're heading to our SW hideaway for some end of summer empty nesting. Right now Mistress is behind the wheel as we cruise through central Missouri.  We will bed down somewhere in Kansas. Somehow sex in Kansas always seems more "forbidden" and therefore more fun!

A little while ago Mistress was talking to her lover Jay. He's had a rough few weeks with a very sick father. Mistress was trying to offer some solace.

"Why don't you just come out to our hideaway and have sex with me, Jay?"

I'm not sure what he said, but from Mistress's response -- "Oh, he's just listening to the radio"-- I could tell was a little squeamish about Mistress mentioning her affection for his sexual stylings in my presence.

Poor Jay.

He just doesn't get this cuckold thing, does he?

And Terri -- if you and Diane want to stop by while we are out west, maybe Molly and Diane can compare cuckold / domme notes.

Report From the Road

Mistress and Slave are in no hurry on this journey to the UCTMW Mountain Zone Branch Office.

Wednesday evening found us getting off the highway early, and strolling through the quiet streets of Independence. Apparently it may be the last refuge of fans of Nancy Sinatra, based on the outfit we saw in a shop window, after closing time. Otherwise I'm sure Mistress would have been tempted to get her spangles on.

Yesterday, one of you suggested that we make sure to engage in a sex act in each state we passed through on our journey. Well unfortunately, we rushed too quickly through Indiana and Illinois, but made up for time and opportunities lost in Missouri. If anyone had been watching we "showed 'em".



We toured the Harry Truman Library and Museum before hitting the highway for that long drive through Kansas.

It was 108 degrees, the wind was blowing straight from Hades. The gas stations had "storm shelters" and sold Wizard of Oz T-shirts.  Around 4 pm, I pulled into an historic sight - an old Cavalry Fort that stood watch over the Santa Fe Trail. The car told me it was down to 106 degrees.

"Mistress, what if we find some shade, and I give you a quick cum, just to knock Kansas off our punch list."

She gave me that withering look.

"It's so damn hot slave, I can't even think about having an orgasm...."

When Mistress says that, well .... you can tell it's hot.

Mistress cranked up the laptop as we headed into Holcomb, Kansas.  She has a strange fascination with "In Cold Blood". Soon we were at the foot of the drive of the Clutter Family Home. Visitors were clearly told they were not welcome.  The hot wind was still blowing. Very creepy. (Bit not so creepy that Mistress did not record a little video for her facebook page).

So we went from Harry Truman to Truman Capote in one day.

As the sun began to set, and we crossed into Colorado, we started making plans for the night.  The town of Las Animas had an "attraction" I wanted to see in the am.  Again, the laptop led us to a little charmingly named spot, across from the Dairy Queen. Mistress reserved over the phone, as Slave dodged tumbleweed.

 The price was right.

But then as we approached town, I noted this sign:

"Do not pick up hithchikers. Penitentiary Nearby."

Hmmm.

"Oh... I forgot to mention, Slave. When they quoted a rate, they asked if we had a AAA, AARP or "prison" discount."

As we pulled into town, there was the "charming" Inn, across from the DQ. Low slung, shabby. If "skanky" applies to inanimate objects, it would work here.

We both had images of night visitors from the local prison, not unlike the Clutters.

The vote was unanimous. After a dinner at a Mexican Cantina, with fellow diners that Mistress described as the cast of a David Lynch movie, we moved on....

Fortunately, the next town yielded a more serviceable lodging, even with a Jacuzzi. The hot bubbly bath led us to some Colorado action to please our readers.

Donna, Mistress did not have time to pick up a saddle yesterday. So she had to ride this cowboy bareback.