What News from Jungle Girl?

Mistress is off to East Africa with her mother, the Dowager Domme, and her sister, who we sometimes refer to as the "Princess" because of a rather entitled demeanor. Their more than 24 hour trip sent them over some of the scariest air space in the world (Iraq, Syria, Egypt), changing planes on one of those creepy desert kingdoms, then a stop in Entebbe where they picked up another plane to Rwanda.

It did not take slave much longer to drive the 1300 miles to our southwest hideaway, where the air is cool and clean this morning. Unlike some of you suckers in Arizona, the 7000 ft. altitude here keeps things cool in the summer.

Mistress and I were able to talk via viber on Friday night and Saturday afternoon my time, then again after midnight last night when I ended my caffeine fueled drive.

She was curious about whether I had yet taken advantage of my right / directive to "self abuse" on a daily basis.

"Not yet Mistress. I've been driving. You don't want me to stroke and drive do you?"

"No slave.... texting me is bad enough."

When we talked yesterday afternoon as I drove across a flat, hot, but tornado free Kansas, she was describing the scene: a luxe hotel in Kigari, where guests were gathered at a poolside bar. I could hear what sounded like an Afro Beat lounge act playing in the background.

"Are your mother and sister already in bed, Mistress?"

"Yes, slave.... I told them I would be up in a while, after I talked to you...."

"Any guys flirting with you?"

"There were two guys who tried to chat me up when I swam laps this afternoon, slave...."

If your wife has "permission", or on our case a contractual right, to fuck around, then exotic travel comes with opportunities to do more than just snap photos of cute animals and stunning vistas.

So as I dropped off to sleep last night, it was not hard to conjure images of Mistress lingering at that bar last night and peaking the interests of other tourists, or maybe some exotic locals intrigued by the allures of this lone American female with the long dark hair, dark complexion, and seductive curves.

And once Mistress begins her trek into the bush, she is bound to make a very sexy jungle girl. don't you think?

But she should be careful out there.  There could be some evil poachers, or rugged tour guides who might have some kinky proclivities that would be happy to take advantage of a shapely American tourist who wanders off alone into the jungle.

I just hope they take pictures and make sure to leave them on her I-phone.

In the meantime, I think I have plenty of mental fuel in reserve for when I take matters into my own hands later today.  But first I'd better run the weed eater and go for a bike ride to knock my own kinks out after all those hours on my aging ass and behind the wheel.

Mistress's Parting Instructions

Mistress headed off yesterday afternoon on her African adventure, demonstrating a surprising skill at  compact packing. When she doesn't have her slave / bearer with her, she somehow figures how to restrict the quantity of shoes, jewelry and tank tops she carries for a two week journey.

Naturally, I drove her to the airport, and our parting at the curb was both passionate and melancholy. It's been a year since she's been gone so long, and my bed will be very sad and lonely without her. It sure was last night.

She did text me this am from the Philadelphia airport before boarding a flight to Dowha to clarify the instructions we had discussed over the last week:

"Forgot to tell you the rules.
1) "touch" once a day beginning Saturday,
2)cage when you go out.
3)send pics of both

So I better document my compliance.

Of course, Slave confirmed his agreement to  these rather permissive and generous rules. She is certainly a benificent Mistress when it comes to the daily right to discharge my "natural juices". And wearing the cock cage for trips away from our SW hideaway is hardly a burden. I suppose it could be much worse. She might have hired a "Slavesitter" to keep me on the straight and narrow while she is gone.

Road Tripping Mistress

Mistress was on a brief business overnight road trip Tuesday night, leaving slave to his own pathetic devices.

When she called before bedtime, from a holiday inn in some small, rusting river town to the southeast of here, she mentioned that the hotel was packed with golfers for some local tournament.

"I bet you could get some action at the bar, Mistress...."

"No doubt, slave... but I already have one golfer side-dish (Jay).... and the my clients are probably around too. Don't want to scandalize them, slave...."

Mistress will be back tonight, but the bad news is that she leaves again on Thursday afternoon for a two week trip with her mother, the Dowager Domme, and her "princess" sister. They are headed to the Dark Continent. It will be a real adventure. Quite frankly, slave is a little nervous about the safety of his Mistress in the bush of seemingly backwater countries in West Africa.

But Mistress's trip does raise the question of protocols for her slave while left alone here in the land of the AK-47. After I finish work on Friday, I intend to jump in the car and head west to our SW hideaway for about 10 days. There are some chores to do, and Mistress seems more confident that I won't get "into trouble" when out in the high desert rather than on the mean streets of River City.

And what about the cage?

Mistress knows it would be impractical to put me on lock down for the duration of her trip. It would foreclose exercise for one.

"But I want you to bring the cage and wear it when you go out at night.  And I want photos, slave."

I guess we will be using that snapchat app our daughters introduced us to.

Trumped Up Charges

Mistress  "threatened" to give her slave some strap-on action Saturday morning when the dust settled from our more conventional wake-up sex.

"I think you need a good ass-fucking this afternoon, slave...." was the way I recall her expressing her intentions.

"At your wish, Mistress."

 But first there was some time for me to spend with my cute grand-kids, and for both of us to soak up some rays at our local swim club.

By 4 pm we were home, and ready for a late afternoon siesta. But when we woke, Mistress was determined to "make good her threat" before we headed to a movie up the street.

"Get our my supplies, slave."

I knew what that meant, so slave went about the task of retrieving her harness, it's phallic accessory and the lube. I also pulled out the aneros, which she likes me to insert after she's "hard her way" with me.

Supplies assembled, I reported to her in the bedroom.

"But where's the riding crop, slave?"

Oops. I guess she wasn't going to do a "half-assed" job this afternoon.

"Did I do something wrong, Mistress?"

I thought I'd been a good slave this week.

"Just get it while I think up some trumped up charges....."

"Yes, Mistress."

Reporting back, crop in hand, and without being told, I assumed the position on our bed. Ass up, pillow under my hips.

"Slave, you've been good this week. But these are to remind you to behave while I'm away."

(Mistress is heading on a trip with the Dowager Domme and her sister on Thursday evening).

She lit into my bottom with about 8 solid but not punishing strokes. I've found that they are more tolerable if I vocally express the ouchy pain they induce. So our two cats got an earful as I moaned in response to each one.

"There now, slave. Hopefully you've learned your lesson in advance and will be on the straight and narrow while I'm gone!"

Pain was soon turned to pleasure for both of us as Mistress deployed her strap-on. Her aim was true and she was soon pumping into me until her powerful thrusts turned me to putty until she exhausted herself in what appeared to be her own impressive cum.

Once we both caught our breaths, slave was allowed to take my own pleasure a more conventional way, with the aneros providing a little extra incentive.

And not once did slave exclaim "but Mistress, I've been framed!"