Thanks-Ticipation

First… let’s talk a bit about our day yesterday….

We don’t mean to bore you, dear readers. But it was a yet another busy workday in which Molly and Mick found time to indulge, as we are want to do.

Morning sex… a little earlier than normal, because Surly teen #1 got back from her class trip to our nation’s capitol at about 5:30 am. She immediately went to bed, but we were up ….so … Well …. you know.

Then there was time for a hearty bike ride on what may have been the last balmy morning in River City for the foreseeable future.

We had lunch with a friend who was one of the clobbered Democratic candidates for public office back in our sad, formerly blue, now red as Mistress’s nail polish state.

Our candidate was filled with denial about his ignominious defeat. After listening to him blame everyone but himself, we had to perk ourselves up with some worship back in my office.

For the occasion, Mistress had worn her peek-aboo black tights, under some up to the knee black boots.

“When I was walking over to meet you for lunch, I could feel myself poking out a bit, Slave….”

“That must be… interesting … Mistress. “

I wonder if guys on the street have the same nose for her arousal as I do. If so, “I pity the fools”, to paraphrase a famous ‘70’s era philosopher.

Mistress could simply sit in her throne and spread her legs for me.. No cumbersome unpeeling required. And, sure enough, there were those pink, puffy lips all engorged and ready for attention.

But first, a photo. I knelt from about 5 feet away, and snapped. Then texted it off to our Western Correspondent, with the caption “Office Visit”.

Then I did what a good Slave does, before sending Mistress back to her office with a chaste kiss out in our lobby. I speculated about what my office mates think about all these brief visits from my darling wife. Maybe that we are planning a kitchen remodel and picking out fixtures on the internet?


Later I was in a conference with a client when my text message chime went off. I assumed it was Mistress, and hated to delay a response, but I had to ignore it until my meeting was complete. But when I flipped my phone open, I realized it was from M.

“ Ha Ha. U too lunatics have more sex than any married couple in America.”

I had to respond:

“It depends on how you define sex.”

After all, M has been telling Mistress about his 3 (or more) a day regime, though sometimes those are solo acts. At my age, it’s more typically 2 a day, but then I am not allowed any unauthorized touching. Soon I got my response:

“Don’t go all Bill Clinton on me, Mick”.

Don’t worry, M. I’m not much on cigars in mixed company.

It turns out, Mistress and M had their own dialog about her little office call yesterday. I heard about it on our drive home.

“I told him I was a good wife and came over to let you worship me, Slave.”

“And what did he say, Mistress?”

“He laughed at me…. Said ‘let me get this straight…. You get your clit sucked and that’s his reward?”

“I guess he’s not one for deferred gratification, Mistress.”

At home we realized that the teens had already begun their Thanksgiving break…. Surly #1 was already on sabbatical for the night with her boyfriend, and #2 was squirreled away in her bedroom, acting grumpy and saying she had no plans to eat with her boring parents.

Go ahead twist our arms, sweety.

So we headed off to our chambers for some pre-dinner amusement. Mistress allowed me to worship her through those sexy tights yet again. Then peeled them off before mounting me.

“I do like to ride my cock, Slave.”

“And it enjoys being ridden, Mistress.”

We settled into an evening then of a picnic in front of the TV (catching up on Dexter) and an early bedtime, reading, cuddled against one another.

“We are in a very good place these days, Slave…. A lot better than Thanksgiving 2008.”

It’s very true. That was a bad time for us…. Still living in two cities, groping our way through Slave’s ugly misbehavior. We’ve traveled far and found ourselves much closer, much more open and honest with one another.

It’s been very nice to rediscover what brought us together more than 20 years ago.

So that’s what Slave has to be thankful for this Thanksgiving.

That may just get us through the next 36 hours, as we play host to a mismatched group of expanded family members for Thanksgiving.

As we took inventory of our 20 something guest list, we realized that we were burdened with the demanding, grumpy, arrogant, mean and self-absorbed members of the family, without the leavening of the cute, gregarious or generous ones.

Sure, the surly teens will be here, but you can bet they will find a way to conceal their presence from the masses until the turkey is carved.

And my older daughters and the cute grandsons are obliged to be elsewhere, at her Mom’s house, as the rotation protocol demands.


So who’s left?

There will be my sister-in-law, who is such a pure feminist that it is beneath her to help clear the table once all the meals are consumed. Sadly, the guy who made these occasions in the past, my gregarious “straw that stirs the drink” brother, died 4 years ago in this season. His absence continues to cast a pall over these types of obligatory family set-pieces.


There will be my stooped Mother, who will be complaining about the weather and her condo fees, and will take offense between cigarette breaks when folks pass up her store bought pies for the homemade ones that Molly’s Mom will bring.

There will be Molly’s Sister and her supercilious Husband, who is already complaining about when we plan to serve dinner (too early) and that we won’t allow her to bring her “cute” little dog. (Lest all the other dog owners insist on bringing there own). I’ve prclained it a “dog free zone” to much grumbling.

There will be my reclusive sister, and her strange, live-in, Civil War re-enactor boyfriend. Unless they cancel at the last minute. There is at least a 50% chance of that.

And then there is Molly’s Step-sister, her know-it-all Physician Husband, and their three “perfect” sons.

So what should we do to get through this gauntlet of downers?

Hitachi breaks for Mistress every 30 minutes?

Should Slave wear his cage?

With or without the butt plug?

Maybe a Conference call with M between the Bird and dessert? (Though I’m sure he has his own family to entertain. Hopefully it’s a more fun group than ours.)

Any of your ideas could be of great assistance.

But what will get us through this min-melodrama will be the anticipation that around 7:30 pm the band of mis-fits will all know it’s time to leave, and after the gargantuan clean-up, we will go to bed early, then get up the next morning for a 5 day retreat to our SW hideaway …. Without the surly teens.

That’s another thing to be thankful for…..