Showing posts with label stocking tops. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stocking tops. Show all posts

Friday, November 11, 2016

Vamanos....

Mistress and slave are headed back into what one of my friends referred to as "this massive shitstorm...." Then there was the other correspondent reporting news from the front, who described the election and it's outcome as a "cluster fuck".  (You can say that in a sex blog, right?)

We are still in denial, which has been aided by a 6 hour time shift, and our disciplined refusal to monitor the US news sites.  But time is running out. Here we sit at Madrid Airport, hoping against hope that Trump will close the borders and shut is out....but then I guess he can't do that until January!  Bad timing once again.

Fortunately, we did have time for some robust wake up sex this morning, before our desultory routine of packing up for the long journey to the new, post-election world, where "Pussy Grabbing" is now the sport of wood- be kings.

So let's just share a few more images from our travels and call it a day.  See you all on the other side.


It seemed that in Madrid there were fewer ladies taunting slave with their tights. Mistress specualated that it's warmer here than in Brussels.  Or maybe the town is more casual than Brussels. But here is an image I secretly copped at the aeropuerto.

The street life in Madrid is vibrant.  All those tapas bars and Cervezarias serving their customers late into the night.  So normally, I'm not looking up.  Surprisingly, it was Mistress who pointed out this roof top vision to her tights addled slave. 

It's a neck craning way just to get a glimpse of stocking tops.

So Adios for now, amigos. If you don't hear from us again, assume that the Trump deportation force has aprehended us as "social degenerates" and that we are languishing in a secret prision, awaiting our turn on the water board.





Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Dommes at Sea

Mistress somehow got a wifi signal around 1:30 pm my time yesterday, briefly lighting up my I-phone with an email and a few text messages which amply fueled my cuckold predelictations, So here is a little verbatim which like minded readers might enjoy:

"Miss you slave, and dying to tell you stories.... many of which will wait till I return. Glad to know that you are horny for me. Daniel (the French dude) keeps flirting. Interesting guy... can't decide if I am interested. We will see. 

Lots of older Australians here. All in good shape.... but old. One tried to pick me up at dinner last night. His wife died 18 months ago. Also, I think his Dad was a Nazi... he was born in Germany. Long story for later...."

We were also able to trade a few texts about some household matters and our daughter's travels, But also some with a little spice:

Please follow orders, slave!

Have been. I sent you another cock shot.

Great. Can't open snaps right now. Already looking forward to reunion sex.

Me too sounds like you are getting lots of flirts.

I am. It's funny. Think about it with your dick in your hand and remember re: the cage. 

so is the French guy still flirting, mistress? I mentioned it on the blog today.

He is. It is endless. Wish I could see the blog.

Maybe he's good with his tongue. It could tide you over.

It might have to.....

That's about when Mistress's signal died.... or maybe she got focused on one of those on board suitors.

In the meantime, Slave has been busy working. Took a client to dinner last night, watching the gritty performance of LeBron and the Backbenchers in the NBA finals, and preparing for my solo SW sojourn tomorrow morning. It's almost been hard to get that  daily milking in.

Almost!

(BTW. do you like that flashback photo?.....you can (un-barely) tell it comes from Mistress's pre-clean shaven folds day).



 

Monday, September 27, 2010

Move Along. Nothing to See Here.

Some of you have been lobbying for some abstinence for poor, confused Mistress / Slave Molly.

Well yesterday, inadvertently I suppose. both Slave and Mistress abstained. It’s been a very long time, now that I think of it. A whole day off for both of us.

Our excuse: a very early rise for that 50 mile bike ride. Plus, Mistress’s parts had been excessively used and abused the night before, during and after our long “epic” episode of directed sex ,with M tied in by cell line from across Lake Michigan, acting as the ringmaster.

Come morning, neither one of us could pin down exactly how long we were engaged in those wanton rituals. And when we review the three photos I took at some point – Mistress rubbing her (still!) needy cunt after I left the bed oh so briefly for a piss and hydration – we were so “shocked, shocked” that they ended up as cyber trash. They were too smutty and revealing to even share with M.

At least that’s what Mistress thought.

So when she read yesterday morning’s blog, I did not even consider doing my typical morning worship.

Then it was up and out into the chill lakefront air for that 50 mile bike ride with 5000 other early risers. The event organizers surprised us with a route that seemed to find the only rolling hills in the region. After 4.5 hours in the saddle, we felt like we had accomplished our goal, but at a certain price. The price I paid was sore knees. Mistress had a rather itchy and even more tender tush, as I had predicted.

“I’m not sure I will have sex for several days, Slave!”

“I can understand that Mistress….”

Though I suspect things will be better by this evening.

There were some interesting sights along the way.

The photo above shows where Molly might want to start up her own business someday, should she ever get tired of spin-doctoring. ( And yes, there is a little Eastern European in her gene pool, to balance out the Spanish that gives her that amazingly lush and dark skin tone).

What she found particularly appealing about this business opportunity was that the place was already advertising the availability of “subs”. You may recall that my contract does allow her to acquire others and put me on the block at any time. That sort of trade might supplement income from polish sausage and bait.

At one point a female cyclist pumped past us with what might pass for cyclist fetish wear: short, tight black riding shorts, paired with black thigh high cycling “stockings”, allowing her to show about 4 inches of skin between her “stocking” tops and her shorts.

I had to comment.

“Hmmm. Mistress. Check that out. Pretty hot look!”

“Oh really…. I don’t know that I care for my slave making comments suggesting that other women look hot.”

Opps. I tried my best to back and fill.

“Well it wasn’t her per se that caught my eye, Mistress. I never really got a look at her. I’m saying the ‘look’ is hot… I’d like to see you in that outfit.”

“Good try, Slave.”

So, dear readers – is Slave in trouble? Do I deserve a punishment for calling Mistress’s attention to another woman in that way?

Is it proper for a Slave to let another woman – or in this case – her outfit, catch his eye and comment to his Mistress?

Is this a Jimmy Carter “lust in my heart” sort of moment? (Not a guy Id like to be compared to … I was a Teddy supporter back in 1980).

And is it particularly un-slave like, or just natural?

Let us know what you think.

Now it’s time for me to go upstairs to see how Mistress is recovering from all that tush abuse.