We woke with the door open, the cats who fawned over our teens (and were fawned over in turn) were wandering in and out, disoriented that their sponsors had flown the coop.
After I did my blogging, I came upstairs to find Mistress, awake, doing some of her own emailing. She reminded me that sometime in the middle of the night, our teen had texted that she had safely arrived in Europe.
And although I had work to attend to, we made sure to spend a little extra time in bed together.
Mistress was happy to find that hard steel ring in place, tightly encapsulating my cock and balls, which always produces a particular rigid and persistent accessory when it comes to her morning fuck.
We showered together, and after I dried off, I presented myself to her to close the lock on my cage.
“Good, Slave…. I almost feel sorry that you’ll be wearing it more frequently for the foreseeable future.”
So I was off, and Mistress had her own plans for the day.
I left you all hanging earlier this week about Mistress and her potential “part time Dom”. They did have a brief meet and greet on Monday. A mutual eyeballing and checking for chemistry I suppose, to go with the texting they had engaged in while he was off to Europe for a good part of the summer.
Apparently that first test was mutually passed.
He’s a reader of the blog. No, we’ve seen no comments yet. But he’s picked up on some of the hijinks here, and does not mind becoming a character in our little community.
He’s agreed that we can call him Francois, a native of France, who has spent the last decade or so here in River City. We can fill in more blanks later.
Mistress had made plans to lunch with him yesterday. Some additional getting to know you time. And what she might ( or might not) be up to gave me a little extra zap as she shut the lock on Mick’s cage yesterday morning.
Of course, as she’s mentioned, her notions of privacy and decorum are a little more restrained than mine might be. What we share here about developments between her and Francois will be dribbled out at her discretion.
But I can share a funny store that she repeated to me later in the day, when we both found ourselves naked, in our bed on a Friday evening, my cage finally unlocked for the weekend.
“We did what folks always do in River City, Slave…. talk about who we might know in common. And it turns out we both know R ….” ( a guy who owned a restaurant years ago that Mistress often used for business functions).
“Funny… it’s been years since we’ve seen him.”
“So he pulled out his cell phone and dialed up R and we talked for a while….I hadn’t heard from him in years…. He says we should all get together….”
‘And how did he explain to R that he knew you, Mistress?”
“Just that we were working on some business things together”
Plausible, I suppose.
“And here’s the funny part…. He says that R is sort of into the scene too… described something about him in the basement of his restaurant with two young things, in collars … on leashes.”
Hmmmm. Who-da-thunk. And I thought that was just where he stored the wine and kept the fish on ice.
Strange Days have found us.
Mistress was definitely in a feisty mood after her lunch, and it turned out that my cock was the beneficiary. So after she was suitably worshipped, she took to riding it, hard and long, before collapsing on me in a heap, all O’ed out.
A busy day for the new empty nester.
But our day wasn’t quite done yet.
It’s remarkably liberating to NOT have to worry about what and when and how to feed one’s teens on a Friday evening. Ours had been spending way too much time at home over the summer, consuming our schedule.
So when we were in the mood to put our clothes back on, we dressed casually, and headed to a quaint local town up the road. The wine shop had their Friday tasting going on, and a group of similarly liberated grown ups were tasting the selection available and grazing on cheese and other munchies. We were happy to join them.
We chatted on about our days, and Mistress, as she is want to do, reached out to make sure that I was OK with her little developing adventure with Francois.
“I don’t want you to feel left out, Slave….”
Maybe I was a little relaxed, oblivious to my surroundings, but apparently my voice was not suitably quiet when I reassured her.
“Mistress, how many 60 year old guys get to have sex twice a day, or more if I want it….”
That’s when she blushed and glanced at the semi-chubby 50ish guy in the madras shorts browsing the wine shelf next to us, who quickly stepped away from the couple sharing TMI.
Sorry pal. Didn’t mean to embarrass you. If you feel discriminated against take it up with your wife. And try ditching the madras shorts. They are definitely a mood killer.