Rip, Ripple, Rippling

That comment yesterday morning, the one about our Friday night activities being “F****ing hot, came, of course, from the Western Correspondent.

And when Mistress read it, as I showered her damp and musky folds with attention from my tongue, it seemed to make her all the more wanton and responsive to my ministrations.

M’s reaction to our little tale had rippled back to Mick and Molly back here in the heartland.

And she was pleased to discover, as her hands groped for my cock when her first orgasm of the day was in the books, that her sexual energy had rippled along to me.

“Oh… already prepared to fuck me, Slave…. That’s what I like.”

Yes, my “quick start” mechanism was in good working order .


After, we took a walk on the Lake Michigan beach, all bleak and blustery, the sun just rising over the bluff. Then it was breakfast with our friends before heading to my alma mater for a football extravaganza

These are good friends that we see only a few times each year. But because they know us not from the world of work, family and kids in River City, somehow we seem more open with them, and them with us. We trade candid stories about kids, ex’s, or our life before we went “public”, much more easily than with our family and friends at home.

But how far do you go?

At some point over the weekend, I think I referred to my beloved Molly as “Mistress”. It’s hard not to let it slip. But it seemed to fly past them.

And when we mentioned a trip next weekend to a party a few hours south of River City, it’s hard not to share the backstory: the blog, our new blogland friends, etc.

But I stepped back from that ledge. Not quite ready for the plunge.

Later as we walked around campus, Mistress was checking her I-phone.

“M’s watching Colbert and Stewart, Slave. Their big rally in D.C. He says it’s hilarious.”

Had Molly just mentioned M to our friends?

I whispered to her, “Uhhh…. Does Jane know about M?”

Maybe Molly had disclosed what I had contemplated, during some girl talk that I had missed?

“ Oh… I just told her that he was our friend.”

After the game, our amigos from out West headed back to their hometown on their team’s plane. And as we walked back to our car, Mistress shared a few more details about her texts from M during the day.

“He says that our blog really made him hot this morning, Slave…. He read it and then went upstairs and had ‘epic’ sex with B….”

“Glad we could spread the lust, Mistress.”

.

Hearing that our activities and words can light fires so far away is quite a rush for this old Irishman.

And on the drive back to the Lake, Mistress and M got to talk a while. It had been two days, and it was clear M missed Molly. And she had missed him.

Over dinner, we were contemplating what ripples we might encounter next weekend, when Aisha and Sir D join us for dinner and we attend their local play party.

“I ordered those special hose, Slave. The one’s with the strategic opening, so you can have easy access.”

“Well, theoretically, not just me, Mistress.”

“True, Slave…. So true.”

Mistress eyebrows lift suggestively, that little teasing smile hinting at the possibilities.

“I think all that talk about you taking on other cocks must have gotten M going, Mistress…..”

“Yes, Slave…. But sometimes I think you just try to tease him.”

“Who me? …. Maybe he was imagining it was his cock…. That I was watching you suck him off, Mistress.”

Mistress’s eyes lost focus a bit….I could sense that little squirm across the table as she fingered her wine glass. Apparently that scenario had struck a nerve.

“But what about you Slave…. What should you wear to the party?”

“The cage?”

“Well, of course. But wouldn’t that get uncomfortable?”

“I suspect it might.”

“Well I could always have the key with me, in case of an emergency.”

“How about a collar, Mistress?”

“Good idea…. But would I get a leash?

“If you would like.”

“I think I would, Slave.”

“Should I bring along those red leather cuffs, in case you want to lock them on my wrists?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea, Slave. But wouldn’t all this be a little humiliating for you?”

“Not if there are other folks dressed in similar fashion, Mistress. It would sort of be like a Halloween Party, wouldn’t it? And I would just be showing m devotion to you.”

All this talk led Mistress and Slave to skip dessert.

At least the sugary kind.

With our friends gone, and the little apartment we had rented for the weekend now all to ourselves, we retreated to bed, and some “Epic” activity of our own.