Mistress woke yesterday in a troubled countenance.
I had a bad dream, Slave….”
Uh Ohhh.. I kind of knew what the subject was.
“I dreamed you left me….”
I wondered if all that talk about poly relationships and insecurities through comments on Sin’s blog the other day had reopened some subconscious paranoia for her.
“Of course, you know I won’t Mistress…. You are stuck with me.”
Then I tried to prove with tongue and cock that my devotion was still quite real. Hopefully it exorcised those demons, at least for a while.
After a morning of skiing, and some mid-afternoon R & R, the Collins clan headed into town for some grocery shopping, and to pick up some holiday gifts on order for us.
The little plaza was all lit up with farolitos and a full moon was rising over the dramatic mountain that looms over this community, founded all those years ago as a staging area for ventures into the vast wilderness.
It’s the sort of scene that Molly and Mick swoon over. But our surly teens? Well…. From them it’s “when are we leaving…. It’s cold out…. And are we really going to have to drive all the way home?
I am a little concerned that they might conspire to poison one of us in order to get a Medivac flight back to River City.
We opted to drive this time because the airlines have rigged the pricing system for tickets so badly that holiday flights are absurdly expensive. And also to teach the teens something that they need to learn: life isn’t always about taking the cushiest solution to any specific problem.
But after we had filled two grocery carts with provisions for some big communal meals this week with visiting friends, we stopped for Pizza at a funky joint that makes a crust of spelt that Mistress is fond of, and the teens were in a more chipper mood. The elder teen even took some photos of Mistress on her I-phone between slices, scanning and responding to text messages, just like the teens do at many of our family meals.
“Who is texting you? “, they demanded to know. Mistress provided a cover story about her friend Sarah back home, but I suspected otherwise.
On the drive home, Mistress muttered to me, “Slave, do you mind if I call the WC when we get home…. He’s desperate to talk to me….”
Well it’s hard to imagine the WC putting it that way, macho dude that he is, but I got the point. Mistress was pleased to get the attention. And of course what sort of Slave would have the temerity to say “No”. I did wonder if the girls had heard her call me “Slave” though.
So as one surly teen helped me stow our provisions, Mistress shuttered herself on our room. I put on some Christmas tunes to make sure her voice could not be heard on the other side of our door.
Once my tasks were done, I settled down in front of the fire place, with laptop and book. And soon Mistress joined me. She had some answers to the questions haunting our readers: how was it that M’s brother was able to slide his finger up the ass of not one, not two, but three suburban moms at that weekend party?
“He says that his brother is the happy-go-lucky sort, who’s always buying the drinks and taking folks to dinner…. So it would not be unusual if, after a few drinks, he would ask a woman if it was ok to slide his hand down the back of her pants.”
Ok, so it’s a strange Midwestern social obligation playing itself out…. and it’s just a matter of manual dexterity and happenstance that a finger ends up the subject’s ass once the initial permission is granted.
I don’t think I will be trying this trick at home…. But you have to admire the audacity. This guy needs his own blog!
AS it turned out, Mistress and M just had a chat …. No orgasms involved. But Mistress did share something else.
“I told M about my dream, Slave.”
“And what was his reaction….”
“He said I need to stop worrying about you… that you are devoted to me and would never leave me…that the blog is a great love story about the two of us.”
“It’s all true, Mistress.” And I was glad that our WC had my back on this.
Because Mistress had not broken out the power tool in her conversation with M, I felt she needed some therapeutic attention.
After she completed her evening ablutions, I offered to worship.
“That would be very nice, Slave….”
She settled back on our bed, in a black nightie, sans panties. Spreading her thighs, her well groomed folds were on wanton display for me.