Vamanos....

Mistress and slave are headed back into what one of my friends referred to as "this massive shitstorm...." Then there was the other correspondent reporting news from the front, who described the election and it's outcome as a "cluster fuck".  (You can say that in a sex blog, right?)

We are still in denial, which has been aided by a 6 hour time shift, and our disciplined refusal to monitor the US news sites.  But time is running out. Here we sit at Madrid Airport, hoping against hope that Trump will close the borders and shut is out....but then I guess he can't do that until January!  Bad timing once again.

Fortunately, we did have time for some robust wake up sex this morning, before our desultory routine of packing up for the long journey to the new, post-election world, where "Pussy Grabbing" is now the sport of wood- be kings.

So let's just share a few more images from our travels and call it a day.  See you all on the other side.


It seemed that in Madrid there were fewer ladies taunting slave with their tights. Mistress specualated that it's warmer here than in Brussels.  Or maybe the town is more casual than Brussels. But here is an image I secretly copped at the aeropuerto.

The street life in Madrid is vibrant.  All those tapas bars and Cervezarias serving their customers late into the night.  So normally, I'm not looking up.  Surprisingly, it was Mistress who pointed out this roof top vision to her tights addled slave. 

It's a neck craning way just to get a glimpse of stocking tops.

So Adios for now, amigos. If you don't hear from us again, assume that the Trump deportation force has aprehended us as "social degenerates" and that we are languishing in a secret prision, awaiting our turn on the water board.

Kinksters in Exile

Mistress and slave have traveled from Bilbao to Santiago and now to Madrid in this last week of our journey. We absorbed the shocking news from state side in the middle of the night here like a bad dream, we would wake from in the morning.  We are still in the denial stage, avoiding mainstream media sources. But we can't avoid the howls of fear and recrimination from friends and family in our in boxes and on social media.  A soothing train ride across Spain yesterday morning with limited wifi access helped insulate us from reality a bit.

I suppose sometime on the flight home we will come to grips with the new reality, but in the meantime....we might as well enjoy our final days here on a Continent and in a country where so much worse has happened and yet the folks seem to have carved out good lives, right?

So last night we did a bit of a Ernest Hemingway pub crawl, enjoying beverages and tapas at some of his old Madrid haunts, from the days of Franco, one of the Donald's apparent role models.

And we've also stumbled on some appealing kinky images in the least likely places, like these from the Cathedral in Santiago, of an ancient threesome.  Can you spot the cuckold?

And there was this wood carving that took someone's pain and piercing fetish just a tad too far:



But what really surprised us was a gallery in the conservative old Santiago, otherwise dedicated to showcasing the unique culture of Galicia, that definitely was striking a dissonant kinky chord:

There was encasement in a cage  kink:




These strange metal restraints:




And lots of  chains too:



And while all this contemporary kink has it's odd charm, there's nothing like a little "old school" bondage to keep you grounded:


It reminds me of what I am tempted to say to my friends and family as the come to grips with the ascendance of America's new Caudillo:

"This Too Shall Pass".

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!)

Tights Fetish Nirvava

Mistress and slave are still on our EuroJunket, having covered three countries over the last three days. We slogged thru the trenches in Loraine, spent a final night in Brussels, then toated our daughter down to Spain for a weekend of art and pinxos.

But the constant distraction for slave has been the preference of so many European women for tights, whether for work or a night out.

Brussels has a growing bike culture, and my head was turned more than a few times by lovely ladies rolling by - day or night - in short skirts and dark tights.


Theree were tights in the train stations:


And more tights in window displays:



Fortunately,  Mistress also got into the mood in the evenings for dinner:



Turns out the ladies of Basque Country have gotten the memo:



And while I've run into this movie star in the tiny grocery near our SW hideaway, she's usually in jeans, not dressed like in this window here:

,

Hopefully I won't get run down by a Tram while gawking!