The Crazy Collins couple were up early this morning, to catch a 7:15 am flight. So no morning sex for us. Just a quick shower and a dash to the airport. Which was amazingly deserted.
M had speculated about the type of security screening we might encounter.
"He said he hopes I get the full body cavity search, Slave....he thinks that would be funny."
But, alas, M.... the TSA "gestapo" was sleeping in after indulging themselves on turkey and schnapps . There were no humiliating full body scans to whet the prurient appetites of sinister "Big Government" storm-troopers, like Rush Limbaugh had promised we would encounter. There was not even an invasive pat down for the shapely Molly. As it turns out, I didn't even have to avoid wearing my cage....There was just the same old conveyer belts and a friendly 'bon voyage'.
So now we are safely on board our flight out west, after making our connection in Atlanta
Google is providing free wifi on Delta for the Holidays... inspiring.... well.....
We were paging through our fellow bloggers entries.... Some hot ones this morning, particularly to a guy who has not "done it" since Thursday morning. More than 24 hours now and counting. (Of course, Mistress got off yesterday afternoon while talking with M, but who's keeping track?)
And there comes Aisha, with a comment, wondering if there will be any in-air antics to report on.
It was sort of like throwing down the gauntlet to Molly and Mick.
Fortunately, Mick was shrewd enough to book us seats on the side of the plane with only two seats. Though there is the disadvantage of that un-moveable arm rest between us....not to worry.
Mistress has a black wrap type sweater (it was cold this morning in River City)... and it spreads nicely across her lap.
"Why don't you slide off those pants, Mistress."
"Ummm .... OK Slave."
She spread the sweater over her lap. Then wriggled out of her tight jeans. There are some nice, lacey black undies underneath.
I hand her my computer....
"You may want to read Aisha nice little fantasy about submitting to a certain Dom, Mistress...."
"Sure, Slave... let me see."
As she's scrolling down through that fantasy about Aisha's frustrating wait for her Dom's attention, my fingers are under the sweater, doing what they have been well and thoroughly trained to do.
"Ummm.... this is hot Slave...."
I wasn't sure if the reference was to Aisha's elegant prose, or my massaging fingers.
But the inevitable consequence was soon upon her.... a little shuddering quake from Mistress, as she buried her mouth in my shoulder.
Unfortunately, I think Slave is expected to wait patiently for his own reward until we reach our little mountain hideaway...
I think we may have to defer appreciating the view once we get there, at least for a while.