Too Distracting?

Mistress and slave spent the weekend with our "studious" daughter in Bilbao - taking in the famous museum, eating at quaint pixtos bars, and getting wet in the interminable coastal rain.  But she had to get back th her "studies" so we tearfully dropped her off at the Aeropuerto at noon in Sunday, rented a surprisingly peppy diesel  fiat from an unctuous car rental guy who tried to up sell me on a Mercedes, then headed west along the Bay of Biscay.

Getting hungry, we took a flyer on an exit near the shore line, found an dramatic ocean view, and a bargain three course lunch at in a little town at a quaint bistro serving well dressed locals spending a couple of hours enjoying each others' company over a Sunday afternoon Comida.

Muy Romantico!

It helped soothe Mistress's angst over bidding adios to her "baby" for the next several months.

Rest assured, we did not get off schedule on our morning sex over the weekend, and Mistress received some lavish worship before we called it quits on the road last night at some odd ses side resort hotel barely open for guests in the off season.

But before signing off and waking Mistress from her slumber, I wanted to respond to Sin's question about this whole "tights" thing, which, it seems from the comments, is not just some unique Mick fixation.

I suppose it goes back to my days as a lad in 8th grade, noticing the ladies for the first time, and being distracted when they first began wearing hose other than knee socks to class.  In retrospect, I am surprised the nuns did not ban the "distraction", recalling more than a few times Sister Beatrice calling out "Mr. Collins" why not keep your eyes on the blackboard" as I was craning my neck for a glimpse at the crossed, stockinged legs of the girl to my right. (This was in the early 60's, before pantyhose became readily available).

Of course, now schools are banning those sexy smooth "leggings" combined with short tops in elementary school, according to a recent Washington Post story ("Are Leggings too Distracting")
Girls and Moms are pushing back. Why should they have to accommodate the idiotic tendency of boys and men to get lost in a girl or ladies' long and shapely legs and ass?  Why indeed?  Am I can do is confess: yes, I get distracted!  Sometimes to the annoyance of my beloved Mistress.

But isn't it also fair to say that part of the fun for women is to exploit our idiocy and catch out eyes?  I don't think my high school girlfriend was acting too innocently when she would slide into the bucket seat of my Dad's thunderbird, and let her skirt ride up just enough to give me a flash of thigh above her dark "over the knee socks".   Or was she?  That was much more distracting than an errant text message is now a days.


Later I began to appreciate the soft silky texture of a thigh clad with nylon, as it rubbed against my own thigh. Ir as I stroked it with my clumsy inelegant paws.  And while Mistress scoffs from time to time at my obvious inability to ignore a lady as she strides or cycles by, she has cruelly exploited my fetish in her successful effort to enslave me,  If I recall correctly she had some very distracting pantyhose on combined with a stylish short dress the night we met way back in the 1980's.

So SIn, I don't know whether you think you look sexy on those colder days up north when you slither into some tights, but consider and be merciful to the sad victims of this dreaded fetish. Maybe consider reverting to pant suits.  Mistress says they might come back into style depending on the outcome of Tuesday's election.  (But despite that. I would still not suggest voting for the alternative.)

(P.S. - Sin, if you want me to opine on whether you are an unfair distraction when you wear tights, feel free to take a selfie. I would be happy to post it here and survery our readers!)

Re-Run Season

Mistress and slave continue to enjoy the sun and seclusion of our SW hideaway, trying our best to fend off work tasks to make room for bracing morning sex, strenuous bike rides and lazy late afternoon naps when the late afternoon "monsoon" clouds gather for a cooling momentary downpour.

But today's entry arises from a task I undertook over the weekend to find some photos of my recently deceased mother. What surprised me as I scrolled through what are probably several thousands of photos accumulated over the last 8 years on my computer was how many photos in there feature semi-risque shots of Mistress. Many of those have been posted here over the years. Others were "outtakes", or maybe shots taken for slave's lovers and texted to them by me as a little visual aphrodisiac.   Some of the shots are somewhat repetitive. Example:  How many different ways are there to capture Mistress while sunbathing nude?


But as I go back further in the chronolgy, I have to say I kind of miss the days when you could catch Mistress in stockings, about to wield her riding crop on her slave based on some trumped up charge:



I was also reminded about how one's knees feel in high altitude skree  when groveling to serve Mistress's clean shaven folds at 13,000 feet:



I also realized that I've been negligent in exercising my switch day privileges as in days of yore:



And also thought about a trip to the local hot springs before we head back on Saturday to River City:



Hope you didn't mind this trip down memory lane. After all, isn't summer still re-run season?

HNT: Tights Season?

It's been unseasonably cool here in the heartland. Fall is definitely in the air, a few weeks earlier than normal. But the question remains whether Mistress will be watching the calendar or the thermometer when it comes to kicking off Slave's fetish for her black tights.

I couldn't help but notice that some of the ladies downtown had already launched into their fall fashion regimes yesterday. I did as good a job as one could to appear disinterested.

As for the source of my own fetish for women in tights or hose, it probably goes back to middle school days, when some of the lovelier girls in my 8th grade class began wearing over the knee socks or hose that had me distracted as the nuns bored us with the days rote recitations of multiplication tables or passages from the catechism.

Mistress has freely taken advantage my "weakness" over the years, appearing in my office with those peek-a-boo tights, and allowing me access from her thrown as she spreads her legs, and I grovel before her, my face buried at the juncture of her thighs.

She knows my weakness, and like a clever NFL offensive coordinator, she's more than happy to exploit it. And I fall for it, hard, every time.

I guess that's why I am well suited to be her slave, and she my Mistress.