I felt a bit like Tom Sawyer yesterday…. In that episode when he persuades Huck Finn what fun it would be to paint that fence. Before going to be after our long trip home on Wednesday night, I responded to an email from Donna with an aside that she should feel free to come up for something in the AM, since I knew I would wake up bleary eyed, still adjusting to the time shift.
And sure enough, to my surprise, my inbox had a full and funny blog to share with you.
Our Senior Correspondent, who was just promoted last week or so from SOiuthern Correspondent, is one heck of an over-achiever. I may have to come up with anew title for her if this keeps up.
As for our Western Correspondent, well, he remains on the mend. Sounds as if he was able to ride his bike to work yesterday, a good thing because those fuel charges for the tricked out Avalanche he snuck onto the company credit card a few months back are killing our margins. Whodathunk you needed to incorporate the possibility of Colonel Gadaffi coming unhinged when putting together the business plan for a growing sex-blog empire.
Yesterday, on our commute home from a very busy day reminding folks that we were still working for a living, Molly mentioned that we would be riding separately in the morning.
“M and I have a date scheduled, Slave….”
So the home Hitachi will have to be dusted off, and the special occasion cock will be back to its old tricks. And in the meantime, Slave knows what his responsibilities are.
“So should I wear my cage tomorrow, Mistress?”
“Well, I know it will be a long day (we have a family dinner at the end of the day), but that’s a good idea Slave…. I’m glad I didn’t have to remind you.”
So my ring is already firmly in place, which should provide Mistress with a little bonus for some wake up sex…. thankfully M did not impose an embargo for her before their date.
But there is one little story I meant to share about our WC when we were away.
We were sitting in this grand old atrium, built from the courtyard of an adobe home, now converted to an intimate hotel. Our friend the musician was performing with his band., and we were lounging on a loveseat, enjoying the scene, sipping some drinks.
Mistress had been texting back and forth with M some through the evening. Then when she picked up her phone from the cocktail table, she laughed.
“What is it Mistress….”, I try not to be nosey, but when she laughs like that, it’s hard not to want to be drawn into the fun.
She leaned into me. “he sent me a picture of himself naked, Slave….”
She gave me a quick look before pulling the phone away, not wanting other prying eyes in the crowded room to catch a glance of our WC’s endowments. Sure enough there was M, apparently posed in front of the bathroom mirror.
“Pretty impressive, Mistress…. “.
It looked as if M would have passed the pre-employment physical, if we had been shrewd enough to have it done before sending him the keys to the branch office and a UCTMW credit card.
“You think so, Slave….”
“Sure, Mistress, he seems in good shape, and even at half-staff, the equipment seems to be up to the title we’ve given it.”
But Mistress was reassuring, maybe sensitive to my feelings.
“Oh Slave, it’s really not much bigger than yours.”
“Well I only got a glance, Mistress, and I suppose he may have been manipulating the image (or the tool), but when at parade rest, it seems to be considerably bigger than mine in a similar state.”
We both looked at each other, contemplating the nature of our conversation. Then laughed.
Were we really sipping drinks at a great old bar, and talking about comparative cock sizes.
Yeah, I guess it had come to this…..
Funny where a sex blog can lead you, dear readers.
And now, I hear the dainty feet of Mistress upstairs. Duty calls.