You won't be hearing much from Mick and Molly over the next 48 hours. Mick has some election duties here in River City, and my day will start around 5:30 am and end who knows when. But I thought I would leave you with this image of Molly, after I led her from her ordeal bent over that table, and before I proceeded to take her from behind.
Afterwards, on our drive back home, Mistress got a call from our Western Correspondent.
"M says that he likes that shot you texted him, Slave. It was almost as good as that one with me over that picnic table."
"Glad it amused him, Mistress..."
They caught up on their day for a while. But soon Mistress's chit chat with M took a different turn.
"Ummmm..... really.... Slave, he wants me to get myself off.... is that OK?"
"You don't need my permission, Mistress."
"He says it's OK, M..... but I have to take off my jeans...."
Mistress handed me the phone, and M and I caught up on our football's teams ignominious defeats as Mistress squirmed and wriggled out of her jeans and panties.
" She' ready for you now, M."
Mistress took the phone back form me. So, as I was navigating through through the highways of northern Indiana, Mistress was navigating her well manicured fingers through her slick folds, while murmuring over the phone to her long distance Master.
Of course, I couldn't hear what he was saying that had those fingers working so zealously, her musky aroma filling our little steel and glass capsule traveling past those corn fields.
But it must have been compelling.