They should be on their way home right now. Cruising up from the Tallahasse area where they found a rail-to-trails bike path down to some little town that starts with a W. Wakulla or something. I'm sure they had fun. We haven't heard from them since Sunday.

And while my two-day sex-o-rama has been an awesome experience, I miss my sweetie and I'm anxious to see her tonight. For one thing, I've got some moderately significant muscle aches in my shoulders from my two-day marathon workout. A shoulder massage would be really nice right about now. (Dear god I'm spoiled.)

I've also got a sheet rash on my left elbow from propping myself up in bed on my left arm, keeping the right arm and its more dexterous hand free for the real work. Smirk.

And I've got a darkening bruise on my inner right knee from where Sara must've kicked me in a struggle on Sunday. She looks at it, sniffs haughtily, and says, "That's nothing." Like I'd try to compete with her in the bruise-taking department.

She actually emerged from the 48 hours comparitively unscathed. I'm getting better and better about not leaving marks that last for more than a few hours. Sure, I'd love to leave some nice deep scratches and bruises, but a girl's gotta go to work, and she only has short-sleeved uniforms.

Monday morning, before daybreak.

The creaking of the door to the attic woke me up, and I knew she (Eleanor) was coming. We had talked on Saturday about her waking me (Julian) up by cutting herself so that I would scent the blood and offering her throat.

She crept under the covers, shoes off, but still in uniform, and ran her hand from my chest, across my belly, and between my legs. That'll wake up your metaphorical chubby, I tell ya what.

Turns out, though, that she'd forgotten the original plan (which we both do sometimes), and while I was in Julian mode waiting for the throat, she was in LT mode, surprised that the MC would let her sneak up on him like that.

We rearranged characters and proceeded to play with Julian, feeding and fucking, for the rest of the morning until we got sleepy and dozed off together. It was so wonderful to get to curl up together after we'd worn each other out and sleep for as long as we wanted.

We got up eventually and took care of all the pet and breakfast needs, saw Z. off to the airport, took showers, and headed back upstairs. Where we both realized we could use another little nap. In Julian character, I put Eleanor into a hypnotic state, telling her that when she woke up, she would be relaxed and cooperative.

We slept for longer than we'd really intended. Two or more hours.

It was the first time I'd tried any bondage when I had her in a "mind control" state, and it worked fabulously. It's hard to tie someone up when they're struggling. The knots are sloppy and such. But she did whatever I wanted her to.

So I tied her wrists together first and put her ankles in a pair of leather manacles. I tied the rope from the wrist bindings to the manacles, securing her bound hands between her legs.

I used the thickest, longest rope that I've got to wind around her upper body and arms, with her breasts pressed between her arms and just above the coils. It was a nice piece of work. Access to breasts in front and everything else from behind.

I had her kneeling on a smaller futon we keep on the floor of the attic. I had the option of having her on her knees where she could suck me off, or tipped over like an S&M Weeble with her head resting on a folded-over portion of the futon.

Sara said it was the best bondage ever. She couldn't move, and she said it was still so comfortable, she felt like she could flop over and sleep in that position. Woo-hoo! Amazing how being able to take your time with something can enhance the quality.

I'll save the rest (Monday night's scenario) for another post so that I don't wear out my poor arms. But I did want to mention one of the odd things about that two days.

Time. It seems Sara and I have trained ourselves to pack an amazing amount of really good sex into 1.5-2 hours, which is the amount of time we've usually got for a weeknight date.

It felt strange to have all that extra time. I mean, we had to stop and rest occasionally so that we could recuperate, but I kept thinking, "Precious minutes are ticking by! You should be fucking right now! But no ... wait. You have all day, and if you keep going, you'll wear her (and yourself) out and you won't be able to do anything else later. Sit down and read whydon'tcha."

So we did have time for meals and to relax and take care of the pets and such. Time that didn't feel like it was burgled from "date time" like it does (to me) on Monday nights when I get home from work at 6:30 and we've only got two hours for a date, but part of that time has to be spent getting something to eat and letting the dog pee and feeding the dog and feeding the cats and washing dishes and calling Deb to check in on her day and such.

It was sweet. Luxurious. A gift.