The date last night: We did play with Masta Chief and the Lt. Only, in the storyline of these characters, it turns out she's not really an Lt. after all. I'm not sure I can remember all the plot developments, but I'll give describing the action a shot.

I got home from work fairly early last night and called Sara to let her know that I was home, waking her up. We decided she would get up, feed the dogs, go back to bed, and I would come get her as MC around 7 p.m.

Now, if you should see a dyke in black BDUs who's obviously packing sneaking around your neighborhood, keep in mind that she might just be participating in some elaborate role play and think twice before you call the police. Luckily, none of our neighbors spotted me and reported me for looking like a reject from "Mission Impossible."

Even though the dogs rushed to the door the second I came into Jake and Sara's house, she didn't wake up. In fact, she was snoring adorably when I tip-toed into her bedroom. I stood and watched her for a few seconds and then pounced. Masta Chief loves to pounce on the Lt. and catch her off guard. Kind of like how Hobbes waits for Calvin to get home from school and clobbers him the second he opens the door, except sexier.

MC told the Lt. that they had built a new "scenario hut" on the training grounds, and he wanted her to test it out with him.

Lt: What's a scenario hut?

MC: It's anything I want it to be. If I think I've got trainees who are weak in a certain situation, I can set it up to test out their responses. For instance, if I've got a certain someone who's all full of herself and thinks she's so tough, I think it might be good to see how she would handle being a hostage in a delicate political situation.

Lt: I see. And what if I don't want to do it.

(I had my hand up her boxer shorts and possibly inside her at this point.)

MC: I could leave right now and we could forget about it.

Lt: You're a cruel, cruel man.

So we went next door and up to the attic. We kissed a little when we got up there, and she looked up at me coyly and said, "Are you sure you can still be mean to me? You seem to be liking me an awful lot lately."

Well, what could I do but grab a handfull of hair, force her to her knees and push her upper body down onto the futon? I put my knee in her back and launched into foreign captor mode.

Okay. Did you follow that? We are now doing a scene within a scene. It got confusing, especially because Sara kept forgetting that she actually liked the person I was supposed to be behind the scuzzy hostage-taking rebel. She was not a cooperative hostage. She was, in fact, rather antagonistic and kept making sheep-fucking jokes. It was hard not to laugh at the insults she was hurling at me. And she did not cut me any slack.

I was trying to find a way to bind her hands (because she really likes that) without having to let go of her long enough to give her a chance for escape. I was hoping that she would play along just a teensy bit, but no. I let go of her hands for a second, and she whirled around and started kicking at me. Nailed my thumb pretty good. I had to call a time out.

It wasn't that bad a thumb-jam, but it felt like when you were in high school, and you caught a basketball wrong and it hurt, but it didn't hurt that bad, but you played it up so you could get out of the rest of gym period. I didn't want to get out of the rest of this exercise.

Man, we had a good time. Eventually we dropped the hostage/captor scenario and went back to Lt./MC. And finally we dropped those characters and fucked some more as just us. It was really hard to stop last night. I kept saying that we needed to stop because it was getting late. Then we would talk some more and end up fucking again. It was about 10:15, and I said, "Okay, we really need to stop now." Sara writhed beside me and whispered, "I could so fuck you three or four more times tonight," smiling and kissing me.

[Inside my head] Okay. There's enough time for a little more if we go hard and fast.

More fucking. Ungh. I LOVE sex with Sara.

Our date lasted about three and a half hours. Casualties: three towels, one glove, one condom, one bed pad, and my thumb (which is still sore this morning). I was using the black silicone dick, so I didn't have to use as many condoms as I do when I'm using Hank (leather).

Of course, I'm leaving out a lot of detail for brevity and modesty's sake. Gotta leave something up to the imagination.

The Lt. did reveal a lot more about her background last night. Turns out she's never even been in the military. We've never discussed whether she works for the CIA or the FBI, but I tend to think it's CIA. The spooks sent eight previous agents into the MC's SEAL training, all of whom rang out before completing the program. Lt. was the first to make it through. Why did they enter the program covertly? It's not too clear. They want operatives with SEAL training, but they don't want it to appear on their official records. Lt. has three different versions of her service record going.

Turns out she's also being held out of field ops. She's an analyist who wants to get in on the action, but she's become too big an investment in information and training to risk. MC mentioned that when he's in charge of the kind of op that the Admirals forget they assigned, he could use anybody he wanted, and he might be able to use her.

It's so cool how these elaborate storylines just come out as we're wrestling around or as I'm holding her in my arms and we're just talking. We make it all up as we go along, and usually it's pretty good stuff.

I also love how I have absolutely zero sense of my own body image, other than how my strength is holding out or how hard I'm breathing, while we're having sex. There's no nagging, "Do I look fat in this position?" or any of that stupid stuff. I just feel strong and sexy, period. That's the way sex should be.