Corsets, Whips and Whiskey

Mistress and Slave had one of those decadent days that you try to file away in your memory banks to fall back on when the going gets rough, and the stress levels rise.

First there was some robust wake-up sex here in our little hideaway, after Mistress slept in and Slave wrote the blog and brewed some coffee.

Then a long bike ride in bright sunshine and cool temperatures in a gentle breeze coming off the lake. We pedaled through rolling countryside to a perfect little Midwestern town, oozing Americana, for a breakfast of some eggs, hashbrowns and thick, smoky local bacon to die for. (Well the pig died for it. All we got was a little extra cholesterol to work off on the ride back).

But as we left the charming old main street restaurant, with its red white and blue bunting, all decked out for flag day, I noticed this poster for an event we might want to come back for:

Is kink spreading to the heartland faster than we thought?

Once back from our ride,  our mobile offices adjourned to  the beach, where we kept of the pretext of being "connected" to clients and colleagues whole basking in the early summer sun.  It's amazing what you can accomplish with an I-phone and no shame! Although I do wonder whether that one client could hear the sound of the waves in the background.

The sun was in no mood to set anytime soon, but we wandered back to our room at around 6:30 pm in any event, with a little more sunburn than I had hoped for.

After showering off the sand, we slid back under the sheets for another round of nookie, with Mistress riding her cock to a couple of cums before allowing her Slave to indulge himself. It was nice to get back into the ryhthmn of "two a days."

Yesterday Suzanne wondered whether we had packed the cage. Well, no, actually. Mick is like one of those free range chickens this weekend. Since Mistress can keep close watch on her cock, she has dispensed with it's containment device.

Soon we were off to dinner at a little Armenian joint up the highway, still festooned with the T-shirts and bumper stickers touting the immigration status of its owner. Will Ibrahim ever be freed? Tune in again next year.

Not bad for a Friday, particularly when you can look forward to a Saturday when the "mobile offices" can shutdown.

"I could get used to this, Slave...."

No doubt.