I love my headlines. However, I have an ego the size of West Texas and just can’t help myself.
Stacy, my much beloved Domme-in-a-thong, was back in circulation and we gathered for an evening in a town that has been the scene of some of my most delicious debauchery and cavorting in years past. Just entering the city limits and thinking of the various carnal episodes always makes me smile.
We began at a funky little wine bar. She arrived looking fresh-faced, sweet and unbelievably enticing. She’s a committed leftie, so we dueled over politics for quite some time as we dissected the upcoming election. Her passion for issues and green-leaning perspective makes her all the more hot. Great mind and a body to match: I was re-smitten.
The we decamped to a strip club where she used to work. We indulged in both getting lap dances from an array of charming to delightfully nasty young ladies until Stacy settled on a lean and lovely African-American lass. She even went to their “gift shop” and bought a strap-on to use on her and also, moi. She arranged for the lady in question to join us later in the evening.
Let me see, I was tied to the chair back in our boutique hotel, virtually all orifices were thoroughly probed and the little progressive/Red/liberal of my dreams even spent the night. She looks wonderful in the morning light, no small accomplishment. And it was her birthday weekend.
I am officially intoxicated with her memory.
The above is fictional and I’m merely a sex addict, working my recovery, loving my wife and charging on to the next 24 hours. Peace to us all my brothers and sisters.
