Dinner With J

I walked our girls to the "Bus Stop" here in River City yesterday afternoon. Fortunately, they did not need me to wait until they boarded for the Windy City.

"It's not rocket science, Dad", said the daughter who had spent a good part of last year traveling via train, bus and subway around Europe.

No, it isn't. And hopefully they didn't see me click my heals in delight as I slunk back to my office. Almost 3 whole days without the little darlings messing up the kitchen and lurking about!

Last night, Mistress and I headed over to J's love shack, where we chatted a bit, sipped beers, and then headed out for a Sushi in a nearby neighborhood.

It's always funny to watch Mistress bask in the public attention of her two men. She likes to flirt with us both in public, and tease us both about her carnal plans for us. 

"I do like the attention, Slave...."

Yes, she does.  And poor J has not quite gotten to the point where her frankly sexual comments aren't a tad embarassing.

Like last night, when she commented on the two day beard growth he was sporting. Maybe J was going for that hipster look, but Mistress was a little concerned about the potential for abrasion.

"Slave, look at that beard he's got..... it could irritate my tender skin...."

"Which skin are you worried about.....your face.... or the clean shaven folds?"

J's looking at us like we're crazy.  But the restaurant is packed and loud. No one is listening in.

"J what if that beard is rough on my little sex parts?"

He's just shaking his head.

After dinner, I dropped the two of them off at J's place. They were both a little tired, so my guess is they needed a little R & R before the festivities began. So I announced I'd be heading home.

Mistress gave her Slave a hug and tender kiss.

"Be good Slave.... and no touching...."

"Of course not..."

I suppose I should be grateful that Mistress did not take all that helpful "coaching" yesterday about cage time for her Slave.

So today I'll be taking my grandsons for a little outing this morning. Mistress and J have their own plans, including a long bike ride.

We'll meet up here again this afternoon.

Somehow I suspect Mistress will be in the mood for a late afternoon nap.  But hopefully Slave will be able to do some worship, if only to soothe her beard burned flesh.

"She looks so good he gets down and begs."

Well I wasn’t exactly begging when Mistress strolled into my office last evening, after a long day at work. But I was ready for some worship. And she seemed ready too.

She had a relatively short black dress on, that showed off long and muscular bare legs, and some opened toed shoes that showed off her colorfully painted nails.

Yum.

Mistress had been so busy – going from one meeting to another all day – that she’d not had time to read all of your juicy comments yesterday about her violation of Switch Day protocol and M’s deliberation on her sad fate.

I spread the blanket, pressed the chair up against the door, and let her settle in, taking my time to use by lips and tongue to reduce the stress level that I could tell had built up during the course of the day.

Ultimately she succumbed to my attention, using her fingers to grab my scalp, pressing me home, as her hips lurched up off the chair in the final throws of her orgasm.

We had an evening out planned – first a Sushi dinner, then a concert by one of Slave’s favorite aging rock stars at a local theatre venue.

Over dinner, Mistress finally had a chance to review comments on her I-phone.

“So Donna thinks maybe I suffered from Marzipan withdrawal….”

“It’s possible, Mistress….”

“Oh look, Brooke commented… that’s pretty rare, and she seems to get what the problem was…..”

She seemed particularly amused by M’s comments in his “hanging judge” persona, and decided to dial him up, as we finished off our “bait”, as some folks call it here in the heartland.

“I don’t think you guys understand how much those things hurt in that position, M.”

She was already beginning what no doubt will become a week long appeal for mercy.

And Mistress also asked when they might arrange for a date this week – Slave is going off to DC for the weekend with Sullen Teen #2, so Mistress will have a little more solo time than she is used to. Hopefully she will have a chance to engage in some ex parte lobbying with her “personal trainer” to see if she can get the severity of the sentence reduced to something palatable for her and for those sensitive nipples.

I must confess that I was feeling a little bad after all was said and done. While we have used those clothespins before without intolerable consequences, they clearly hirt more than normal this time. Maybe it was the position, with Mistress, breasts hanging down, and all that blood flowing to the place where the pressure was most severe.


And although I tried to expedite things once it became clear that Mistress seemed to be in more anguish than “normal”, I should have removed the pegs myself rather than force Mistress to use self-help.

I’ve learned my lesson, and won’t do that again.

I suppose we need a “code red” word that would have allowed Mistress to abort the exercise at that point. That way she would not risk getting into trouble for disobedience during her two hour / week switch shift.

And I better watch my own back here, since Slave is probably due some punishment from Mistress for some real or imagined slight that would allow her to take her pound of flesh back.

After we both chatted up M for a bit, it was off to our concert. (The quote in the title is from one. A free UCTMW coffee mug to anyone who can guess the author or song, employees of UCTMW Enterprises or their family members, excluded).

We had primo seats (I’m on the dude’s email list), and it was fun to enjoy the evening with Mistress, away from work and family duties. For some reason I kept getting the musky aroma of sex from her as I leaned into her, muzzling her neck. Was it residue of her juices still clinging to my face. Or did she just exude the pheromones that drive her Slave nuts.

By the time we got home, it was 11 m or so, and we were both beat, so settled for some snuggling and sleep.

“Wake me for sex at 7, Slave….”

Better get moving….

Molly and Mick in Manhattan

Despite the dreaded ground delay syndrome, we made it here (barely) in time for my scheduled presentation yesterday afternoon. Nothing like a little rain in the Big Apple to throw the deadbolt on the traditional gridlock.

But with that accomplished, it allowed Molly and Mick to get into a more relaxed mode here in the City we rank among our favorite places to visit.

On the cab ride through Queens, stopping and going at a horse drawn carriage pace, I was checking my emails whole Mistress was exchanging text messages with M about their plans for some “dates” while I am in my meetings.

“He wants to make sure you packed the Hitachi, Slave….”

“All packed, Mistress. Though I forget an extension cord.”

(That could have been a breach of one of those “deadly sub sins”, but fortunately there is a handy plug at bedside for Mistress when she has this morning’s training session with M).

Once we arrived at our hotel – one of those dreaded monsters where my meetings are occurring – Mistress and Mick parted ways. I was up to my conference, and she had some work to do of her own.

Around 5 pm, I finally headed up to our room, where I discovered Mistress prepping for a reception with some of my colleagues. There she was in her boots, and black bra and undies. Yum. It was a shame she had to wear the dress.

She was a little agitated over a conversation she’d had with a fellow worker back at her “shop” – sounds like the lady had a hissy fit at Mistress’s expense – so I offered to provide some soothing worship to cut the edge. Mistress relented to my requests, and soom was lying back on our King sized bed, legs spread, providing me with clear and efficient access from my knees to her neatly shaven parts.

It seemed to work.

At the reception, Mistress was in a very pleasant mood as we chatted up my old friends and colleagues from around the country. (Some had met Mistress before. The others, I suspect, were scratching there heads wondering what this hot young thing was doing with old Mick….I suppose I could have referenced them to our blog, but…. Probably not a good idea).

There was one gentleman from Denver who was more than a little charmed with Mistress, and she did an excellent job of enticing him. I think he was disappointed when he learned we would not be joining him for dinner.

No, we had our own plans. Mistress loves a tiny sushi joint in SoHo, and I had promised her sushi. We hopped in a cab, headed south, and walked around that charming neighborhood for a while before filling up on some of Mistress’s favorite spicy tuna hand rolls and an assortment of sashimi. Mistress enjoyed her Sake. I sipped a Asahi beer as we wallowed in the simple charm of the place.

But Sushi joints are hardly known for their dessert. I suggested we walk around the corner to a romantic little French Canadian bistro, where we sat at the bar, sipped espresso’s and shared two confections – carmelized bananas and chocolate cheesecake – while listening to a classic jazz trio in the little storefront.

Of course, by now it was getting late. Mistress wondered if Mick had it in him for some sex when we finally got back to that large hotel bed.

“I think I have it in me, Mistress….”

Actually, I suspected she thought I would pass. And though it had been a long day for both of us, well, Slave was running on more than 24 hours since the last opportunity. I wasn’t going to defer the chance is Mistress was offering.

As we walked down the long hallway to our room, Mistress asked about my packing foresight.

“Did you pack your device, Slave?”

“I did Mistress…. But now that I think of it, I didn’t pack lube….”

Ooops.

“Not to worry…. There is some hotel moisturizer….”

Fortunately, that worked.

(Suzanne, there’s a tip for you, now that Jay has acquired all those high end butt plugs for you).

By the time I had tended to that task, Mistress was under the covers – quite naked- and ready for her Slave to attend to her needs.

By now she was also a bit tipsy – scotch at the reception, sake with dinner – so she was want to just lay back and let me perform the honors. I did so with tongue and lips first, and she seemed to herk and jerk her way to a nice long cum as I dragged out that process with a certain perverse delight.

But then, once the appetizer was savored, she was ready for the main course.

“Are you ready to fuck me now Slave….” She murmured in her deep and sexy voice.

“I believe I am, Mistress.”

Uhhh, yeah. She quickly learned I was more than ready.