Wet Run

One of the things that strikes me in my relationship with Sir is the extent to which he wants to know and to control what i am going to wear for him. We have now agreed the wardrobe for our next meeting and yesterday morning (while i worked from home!) we had a bit of a dry (or maybe wet, since i soon was) run.

Standing in front of my bedroom mirror in shortish dress that adequately covered my stockings and some very nice silver heels (i never realised when i bought those shoes how hard it would be to find clothes that would match them), i lifted my dress for him. He couldn’t see this of course, he was over a hundred miles away and we don’t do that webcam thing (not my cup of tea), rather we use the old fashioned phone. i described what could be seen if i bent over. We talked though meeting as if strangers in a coffee shop, me dropping something and bending over, my sitting opposite him and how much he might see if he looked under the table at my open legs. We talked about the possibility of walking around a supermarket together while my nipples were clamped. These discussions and writing about it now have an amazing effect on me. I reported that i was wet and sir as usual allowed me to touch myself and to orgasm for him.

Given a chance i would always prefer to be with Sir in person, giving myself to him. But when that can’t happen online chats and definitely phone chats are a useful. They help remind me of who and what i am. They help me remember that i am his slut (he particularly likes me to tell him i am his slut, his whore as i cum) and they help set¬† me up for whatever else i am going to do.

I worked till just after lunch time (not that i actually ate lunch at lunch time) then i prepared a picnic for my brother, his girlfriend, hubby and i and we headed off to the races for an evening meeting. Wearing the knickers i had been wearing all day (different dress, no stockings) i was reminded frequently of what had happened during the morning and the discussions we had had. At the racecourse we sat on a blanket on the ground between races. With the start of the race though i got up, jumped about a bit to encourage my horse on (you have to embrace these opportunities for a bit of excitement). This whole process of sitting, standing and realising where your underwear is definitely serves as a reminder (Sir will love this bit),about what you were doing in them earlier.

We had a great time, i choose  my horses on the basis of their name, or if i have heard of the jockey and was unsuccessful this time. Hubby who applies some kind of secret knowledge to his decision making had a few good wins. Trouble is he tends to get a bit carried away and bets away his winnings given half a chance, on this occasion though i extracted a wad of cash which he can have back tomorrow. While there is no profit, the evening cost us the price of the admission, so that seems like a reasonable result.

There was a concert afterwards. Tom Jones still has a great voice and performed well. But he spent more time on music from his latest album rather than classic stuff, it was crowded, we couldn’t get close enough to see properly and my back was aching (too much sitting then standing and jumping). Shortly before the end, feeling peckish (just the picnic all day) we headed off to a very nice Chinese restaurant and had a simple, reasonably light but very very nice meal before heading home.

My assessment of the day? Lovely in every way!

Picture: Woman standing in front of a mirror, Christopher Wilhelm Eckersberg (1783-1853)

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About Julie

50 something woman, exploring life and enjoying new adventures. This website is a record of a journey from vanilla wife and mother through two new relationships. This woman is now a collared slave called MPB and is owned and controlled by her Master. A mixture of true events and memes it is often of a sexual nature and is not safe to view at work. Next things to try will be fiction. Watch this space.
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