Shelter From the Storm

Well it really wasn't a storm.

On our last morning at the beach that misty coastal fog had dropped down over the coastline, as it is wont to do through the year. But we wanted to get one last walk along the beach in before Heading into the City for a presentation Mistress will make later today at a trade association conference.

So after some invigorating wake-up sex in our little B & B room, we headed north along the beach, which ends in a warren of boulders and cliffs.

It had been several years  since we had been to this particular beach, but Mistress has an amazing memory, and recalled a summer visit years ago when the wind was blowing and we found a sheltered space between rocks to "hang out".

Maybe it was that re-awoken memory, or the talk about how one of her suitors is touting his oral sex talents, but it seemed that this deserted beach and the private spaces it made available should not be put to waste.

"Would you like a little surf-side worship, Mistress?"

She didn't put up much of an argument.

Soon her athletic shorts were dipping to her ankles.

And Slave was on his knees, pressing my lips to those delightful clean shaven folds. It was not long before Mistress was thrusting her hips at me, her fingers twisting into my fading gray locks, moaning with a little early morning delight to the background sounds of surf and a distant fog horn.

It was a good way for us to wind up that phase of our little holiday.

We spent the rest of the day back in the City, under a wonderful blue sky and warm temperatures. 

Oddly, along the beach and in the City yesterday we did see some things that reminded me of 'Nilla and her penchant for tentacle sex tales.

I mean look at this beach detritus, 'Nilla?

 But even more shocking is that the notion of questing tentacles with an oddly sexual twist has clearly gone mainstream, as this window off Union Square shows:

Mistress was a little surprised when I took this photo, so I explained the 'Nilla tentacle sex genre to her.

"You know, probing phallii filling every potential orifice at once, while binding your legs and arms at the same time as the "victim" of this cruel assault writhes in ecstasy?"

She looked at the window display again.

"Yeah... I could see the appeal of that."

Just Another Day at the Beach

Mistress and Slave got a full day of surf and sun on our Sunday. Preceded, of course, by some pre-dawn wake up sex. It seems our body clocks know when it's time to fuck, no matter the time zone. 

In lieu of switch day, Slave requested some cock riding from my beloved, and Mistress rode herself to a few groaning with ecstasy cums before, tired, she rolled over and let Slave have his way with her. But after a brief recuperative snooze, we slid into some hiking clothes, enjoyed breakfast at a locals' haunt, and then headed for the Point Reyes National Seashore, just up the coast.

The fog was clinging to the coast through the morning, and we got a good workout walking two miles or so along the wild coast line,  huge breakes crashing just a few feet off shore.

After our walk, we stopped by a little town we'd been to years ago, then headed back to the beach at Bolinas, where the sun was bright, the skies were blue and the surfers were in their wet suits.

We spread out a picnic lunch, and read a bit, with Mistress intermittently responding to text messages from one of her AM "prospects".

"he's asking about what I like Slave....."

"Oh really, and what does he like?"

"Sounds like he's into worship too.... "

Of course, Slave enjoys the competition. It will only make me raise my game.

By now, Mistress has culled the potential suitors down to two interesting fellows, both out of towners with frequent travels to River City. She has back to back dinner "dates" set up with them for early next week.

"What if you like both of them, Mistress?"

"Hmmmm..... I guess we'll have to sort that out later, Slave.

After the sun got low and the wind picked up, we abandoned the beach, and headed back to our funky B & B. 

It made sense to have a little more sex before dinner, didn't it? All that text message flirtation seemed to make both of us horny.

Surf's Up

Mistress and Slave were stunned by the weather here in this little beach town, just north of San Francisco. We were expecting fog and chill. Instead we got a lovely sunny day, great for laying on the beach, after a long beach walk this morning.

we are staying at a rather funky B & B, a small room off a little courtyard, in a place with a rather laid back management. So laid back that we had to find our own room last night when we "checked in". Fortunately, we must have found the right one!

Of course, still being on eastern time, we went to bed early last night (10 pm west coast time), and woke in what seemed like the middle of the night. Slave's pent up sexual demand seemed to coincide with some hunger for my work-a-day cock on Mistress's part. So there was some worship and fucking at around 4 am here, and then, again at around 8 am, before we headed out for that beach walk.

The internet service is a little spotty, but Slave found a way to get his alma mater on the I-phone, allowing me to sit on this gorgeous beach with Mistress, while hearing the lads beat the brainiacs from "The Farm" in overtime. Quite frankly, it ws better to listen too the dramatics on the radio, rather than suffer through it on TV.

In the meantime, Mistress was soaking up the sun, reading from her kindle, and exchanging text messages with one of her new AM "suitors", so I don;t think she minded her Slave's focus on the events transpiring back in Indiana.

Later, we drove down to Bolinas, a quintessential surfer / hippy town where we stumbled onto a combination harvest festival and rage, where we sipped some local wine and bought some picnic provisions for tomorrow. 

Summer is still happening out here, friends. So explain why we head back to River City on Wednesday? 

Heading West

Mick and Molly are winging westward for a few days along the northern California coast. We've left our offices behind. It will be a great to break away for the next few days. But because we were up late last night with friends, watching and then breaking down the great VP debate I was a little too lazy to post this morning.

I also need to catch you up on developments over the last few days.

Thursday, Slave was on punishment cage duty, despite the cold weather. I had engaged in some socializing which Mistress deemed, upon further review, beyond my proper role as her Slave.

It started our Wednesday morning. I got a text message from a woman who is a "facebook" friend to both of us. She shows up every now and then commenting on my cute little postings of family pictures or political commentary. But I don't really know her.

Mistress, on the other hand, has seen her bounce around at the periphery of her life over the years. She was friends with Mistress's former husband.

And, oddly, she apparently had an affair with my late brother back when they worked together. I suspect I may have met her in those days, but quite frankly have no specific recall.

Oh, and she had dated J before he "hooked up" with Mistress.

Yeah, it is a small town.

So this lady emails me. Says she works in our building and has a political question to ask me.

Could we meet at 4 pm for coffee at the shop on our lobby.

Sure, I say. A bit surprised.

I go down to the lobby. There she is, greeting me (though she's not someone I recognized).  A woman in her 40's. But the coffee shop is closed at 4 pm.

"Let's have a beer instead," she says.

I had some work to polish off, but why not?

We find a little sidewalk bar across the street, where the Playoff game is just starting. Order beers.

She talks in this rapid staccato. Never really stopping. Reminds me of my mother, who I swear is always afraid to stop talking for fear her son will say goodbye.

After about 30 minutes, my beer done, the Local lads already losing 1-0 in a game they will end up on the wrong side of, I make my farewell and head back to the office.

And before I picked Mistress up, I texted her saying "funny run-in with your friend Sara D."

Mistress's curiosity was peaked.  When she settled into the car, she had twenty questions for me on the what, when, where and why.

"I don't trust her Slave. She's very predatory.  There's no good reason for her to call you out of the blue."

It seemed pretty bland to me. At most she was pumping me for contacts for her business: sales in a construction trade.  Certainly not a come on.

But Mistress had her doubts.

"You're wearing your cage tomorrow, Slave.... and I want you to report any more contacts from that woman."

Of course, Mistress is always right.

And as it turned out, I got tickets for the last game of a once glorious season for the River City team.  With the cage on, Slave's pissing options were definitely limited. and the cold weather had me squirming all through nine desultory if drama packed innings.

Rest assured,  I avoided beers at the stadium to limit those trips to the crowded mens' rooms.

And the local team. Well they left their bats in San Francisco.

When I made it home after the game, Mistress mercifully unlocked me. And I returned the favor by devoting myself to her pleasure.

The only down side to our late night last night, and an early wake-up this morning, is that Slave has been on Abstinence since Thursday morning.

You can bet I'm looking forward to getting tucked into that Bed and Breakfast on Hwy 1 later tonight.