So here we are, after what seems like a lengthy absence, back in our River city nest, with the sullen teens still gone.
Pinch me.
We made it home a little after midnight on Saturday, slept in, read the papers. Mistress was reunited with the “kittens” she and the teens dote on.
Both of us were a little too stiff and sore from the long driving day on Saturday, so we passed on our weekly switch day, settling instead for some long and leisurely love making before our morning bike ride.
Mistress did take her time toying with my cock – both with her warm mouth and well manicured fingers, making me beg to fiuck her…. It was all very frustrating, if ultimately rewarding..
It certainly was strange to have a Sunday to ourselves, back her in River City, with no family duties to attend to, kids to nag about their homework, other folks’ messes to clean, etc., etc.
(Though there was a very early morning text message from Europe this am, with the critical query: “how much is in my bank account”.)
We can get used to this.
As I was settling down to watch the local NFL team take on the team from our WC’s hometown, I did get a text message from him:
“What should we bet.”
After quickly consulting with Mistress, who was draped across a nearby couch, reading the Times, I responded:
“Molly and B?”
(i.e., if my team won, I’d get a shot at his wife; and he’d got one with Molly if my team won).
Of course, this was a sucker’s bet. With me as the sucker. Our team had not won in this particular venue since Gerald Ford was President. I kid you not!So it should have been an easy bet for Miguel to take.
But no…. he backed away. I got some line about how he needed to consult his wife, that she was likely to get back at him for the caning she had absorbed following their encounter with the book Donna had sent them.
Cold feet, M.
(Of course, M’s team did win, though it was a little closer a game than I had anticipated).
I think Mistress was a little disappointed in his reluctance to take the bet..
But I did try to sooth her with a little worship before bedtime.
Yesterday saw us wake at a Best Western in Illinois for morning sex, breakfast in Michigan at a favorite little greasy spoon on the Lakeshore, attend a college football game in Indiana, then complete the daunting 260 drive back home. What was the rush, you might ask? We’ve had enough of sleazy motel beds. And after all the driving we’ve done, somehow 260 miles just seemed like a jaunt around the block.
Fortunately, the outcome of the game had Mick in a good mood. And Mistress, well she is not much of a football fan. Here’s how she engaged herself at the game.
About 1/3 of the way home, we did stop long enough for a pit stop and a celebratory “meal” at one of Molly’s favorite haunts along the highway home. She ordered what amounted to a deep dish sundae in a styro-foam cup.
It looked yummier than it sounds. The sugar high and Mick Jagger kept us rolling on home, arriving not long after midnight.
Bt we did find a way to entertain ourselves along the way yesterday.
On our way west, one of you suggested we make sure there was a Molly and Mick sex act in every sate we passed through. And we completed that rather simple assignment on the trip back, knocking off Kansas and Illinois.
But somewhere between breakfast and game time, we decided to make a list of all the states where Molly and Mick had “gotten it on”. I drove while Molly composed this rather primitive if amusing spread sheet, to which I’ve added a few editorial comments:
Maine: Molly.
NH: Shut-out. “Live free or Die”, sounds a little threatening to us.
Vermont: MM together. (But Molly scraped her knee while biking).
NY: M/M together ( Plenty of nights in Big Apple hotels).
Mass: M/M together. (Slave impressed Molly with his faux JFK accent, and scored).
Delaware: Too small, with apologies to Joe Biden.
Maryland: Never went on the Edgar Allen Poe tour.
RI: Mick. (But that was in a former life).
Conn: yes, but not with each other.
Penn: Molly. (She had a soft spot for Ben Franklin?)
NJ: MM together. Trip to Shore to visit Mick’s Mother. (Before “Jersey Shore” became a bad joke.)
DC: MM together. This goes back to our “undercover” days, and I’m not referring to the CIA.
VA: (No, unless making out in Subway on way to Reagan Airport counts).
NC: Molly (visits to beach)
SC: Molly (ditto)
Georgia: MM together (Highlight: 1988 Democratic Convention. Much hydration needed).
Florida: MM together (before and after we went public).
Alabama: (We spend as little time as possible in these types of states).
Miss: (ditto).
Arkansas: No, but a former Governor hit on Molly once.
Tenn: MM together. Before and after climbing Mt. LeCont.
LA: MM together. Some excellent times in NOLA.
Texas: Never took a roll on grassy knoll.
Michigan: MM together. (Weekends at the beach on Lake shore),
Indiana: MM together. Visits to Mick’s alma mater.
Ohio: MM together
Illinois: MM together. Hot times on cold nights in Windy City.
Wisconsin: Molly. (She has a soft spot for Madison radicals.)
Minnesota: Molly. (Not sure Mick got the story on this one….maybe when she was a camp counselor?)
West Va: MM together. Visits to grandma’s house.
Kentucky: MM together. Just a short drive away.
Kansas: MM together (A memorable night last week in Abilene at a sketchy motel).
Missouri; MM together (Show Me (and tell) in Independence).
Oklahoma: MM together (Will Rogers’ hometown).
Nebraska: Off our beaten path.
Iowa: (Can’t believe Molly did not score when she went to caucus in 1988, but so she claims.)
North Dakota: Molly (Lots happened on her geology field trips in College, apparently.
South Dakota: Molly (ditto)
Montana: Molly (ditto)
Idaho: Molly (ditto)
Wyoming: yes, but not together.
Colorado: MM together and separately (ski tripping at Vail and elesewhere).
Utah: Utah (cold nights in Snow Pine Lodge at Alta).
Arizona:
NM: MM together
Nevada: MM together (Crazy few days in Vegas on Molly’s company expense account)
Washington: MM together (rainy Seattle).
Oregon: MM together (Rocky coastline for a family wedding).
California: MM together (San Francisco, and points north… Santa Monica too).
Hawaii: both, but with prior spouses. Don Ho did not participate.
Alaska: Molly’s been there, but she claims no one got past 2nd base.
As you can see, Mick was not even close in this contest. Guess I didn’t get around as much as Molly did in my youth. Either that, or Molly just has more fun. For those of you interested in following in her footsteps, I would recommend majoring in Geology. Apparently those field trips get a little wild when the sun goes down on the granite and limestone.
Yes, we re still in the road, safely ensconced in a Best Western smack dab against a Wal-Mart Super Center, in an Illinois town that I can neither spell nor pronounce (but it does remind me of that Disney animated movie about a rat who aspires to be a gourmet chef).
Thursday night we ended up in Abilene, Kansas, at an off the beaten path motel that our daughters would have rejected as "sketchy". But the bed was comfy, and we found a rather seedy restaurant for some hearty grub a little too crammed with flat screen TV's, a trend that sadly seems to have infected America's eataries from sea to shining sea. The staff was very chipper though, if a little on the TMI side. (When a customer asks for his waitress I'm not sure I want to be hear that "she's cleaning the restrooms, but will be done in a minute")
Back at our motel, I opened a bottle of Tequilla for Mistress, who needed to wash that greasy food taste out of her lovely mouth. Soon we were in bed, and after some worship as a digestive, she got a little feisty.
"I want to ride my cock now, Slave...." And ride she did, taking her good old heartland time to take her self to Oz and back. When she had her fill of her "mount", the tables were reversed and Slave took his pleasure, working out the kinks from a long day in the car. While we had missed checking off "sex in Kansas" from the punch card on our way West, that mission had now finally been accomplished.
We highly recommend it.
Friday morning I had an early conference call, walking the quiet streets of this former "cowtown", which was at the top of the Chisholm Trail, the place where the cattle raised and fattened in Texas would be placed in rail cars for the trip east. (I did notice this sign at our motel, and am still wondering what it means. any help?)
When my call was done, I was able to wake Mistress with a little more worship and some wake-up sex before we headed out to the Eisenhower library and Museum, just a few blocks away. It was pastoral, and well suited to the bland fellow I recall as a kid, but not nearly as engaging as the Truman Museum we visited on our trip West. I noted two people missing from all the memorabilia and narrative: Ike's VP, Dick Nixon, and his reputed "girlfriend", the WAC driver Kay Summersby. (Mistress was a little shocked when I shared that story from my old guy memory bank).
After our tour, we were back in the car. And Mistress had a backlog of text messages.
The WC was sharing details of his "epic" sex, doming his wife, B, both of them inspired by the book Donna had sent, written by the Master of LaDomaine. Donna, maybe you should give us a review? It sounds as if the WC got to put his ass fucking tutorial to use.
And of course, she also herd from Francois, who is warming her up for her return to River City (yes, folks, we will make it back, by Sunday, after a brief detour today for a football game at my alma mater).
On the drive we even skyped with our daughter in Belgium, who described how she and her new buddies often stop off at a little cafe after school for a beer to decompress. I guess she's not in Kansas anymore.
Nor were we. By dinner time we were on the banks of the Mississippi, in Hannibal, Mo. the boyhood home of Samuel Clemmons, aka, Mark Twain. It was an opportune time to stretch our legs and walk around this cute, if touristy, little river town, that was all things Twain. But of course there was also "The first coffee shop (with wi-fi) West of the Mississippi.
Mistress is still snoozing, but I think it will soon be time to wake her.... most likely with a tongue wiggling it's way between her lovely thighs.
In my earlier post this week, I neglected to mention an important lesson I learned about entering a dungeon as a submissive/slave: Questions are always welcomed, asked in the appropriately respectful format, of course. The surprise is that the answers come in a different manner than one might expect. For example, just after the tour began I noticed on a shelf near the suspension station the item represented in this diagram.
It looked like an odd type of saw to me, so I asked Mistress Collette what it might be. She turned to her Mistresses in Training and, with a smile on her lovely face, announced that slave Donna was wondering about this device and she reached over, picked it up and began to give a demonstration…on me. For those who don’t know this is a cupping device. The cup section is placed over some tender part of the body, in my case my right nipple, and the suction handle is pumped until the nipple is streeetchhhed out. For some, it can be quite painful: for me there was an initial pull but not much after that so Mistress decided I would leave it attached and just allow the suction to continue during our stroll through the dungeon, and she would see how things progressed.
When she realized I wasn’t asking as many questions aloud, Mistress began reading my interest level by paying close attention to my eyebrows and the way I examined things she placed in my hands. I attempted to go into the Mr. Data (from Star Trek) mode, but Mistress Collette seems to be a mind reader as well as a Dominatrix and I had some up close and personal experiences with things that snap and pull and sting and buzz all throughout the tour.
So where did I leave off the other day…oh, I remember now, we were at the end of the warm-up session on the sawhorse with the flogging of the clothespins on my breasts and labia. So, after untying my wrists and ankles and gentle massaging them to ensure proper blood flow, the Mistresses helped me stand and lean forward against Mistress Collette. She nuzzled my neck, so softly and sweetly and I found that I was returning the kisses to her neck and shoulders, rubbing that super soft skin with my tongue and then pressing my lips against her flesh for a few moments of gentle sucking and licking. After a nod from Mistress Collette, Mistress Dame presented me with my crutches and, still bound in the Shibari rope, I was led to a back corner of the dungeon.
In that area there is a very interesting hanging table, a hanging massage table of sorts. It is suspended from the ceiling by chains at each corner. I was soon lying on my back on the comfortably padded table with my wrists and ankles cuffed and attached to the chains. In effect, I was spread eagle, roped and chained. Interestingly, there is no place for shyness in the dungeon. Those in attendance are so secure with their own nudity as well as that of other people of all ages and body types that there was no feeling of shyness or false modesty. This is a place where there is appreciation and stimulation of the human body in all its varied forms of beauty.
As I lay locked in my spread eagle position, Mistress Collette and the two Mistresses in Training soon began stimulating my arms and legs, working toward the trunk of my body and then slowly working together in concentrating on my breasts and genitalia. Goddess Evitaa noticed I was watching careful what was happening and suggested that perhaps being blindfolded would keep me from anticipating what was coming. How right she was! Being blindfolded kicked up the tactile sensation as well as the anticipation.
I was aware of the increasingly larger vibrating dildos being placed in my vagina, and the alternating of different weights and textures of floggers being used all over my body. A Wartenberg pinwheel ran back and forth across each breast and nipple, down my sides and perhaps over my clit, too. About then, as I was really building to a climax, I heard Mistress Collette say,” Oh my, I can think of another orifice that hasn’t been filled.” And yes, she was referring to the back door.
On my earlier tour of the La Domain dungeon I had noticed some very, VERY large butt plugs and dildos. My hope was that Mistress would at least start with the human rather than bull sized dildos. What Mistress decided on was a rather long vibrating dildo placed waaaay up there where the sun doesn’t shine. Little did I know at that point in time that I would be ordered to leave that dildo in place all night long and that it would be my responsibility to wake during the night to replace the batteries in the control pack that would be tucked into my ropes as I was tucked into bed for the night.
But back to the swinging massage table and the chains and dildos, I soon heard what sounded like the striking of a match and then something very warm was dripping over my nipples, flowing in small streams around my breasts. The sensuous fluid was dripped slowly down the front of my body and onto my pussy. A drop that fell directly on my clit caused me to suck in my breath, but the drops continued and beautiful warmth continued on and on.
Then I heard Mistress Dame comment that she had never seen a cunt completely closed over with wax before. Um…what?
