Well, Wednesday night was Kinky Quzzo night. There was a pretty good turnout to welcome home Mistress Jen back from her trip to London. And who knew that the folks in the Post Bar would have such an influence on her. We've given her the title of Mistress and she's playing the role to the hilt, appearing at this past Wednesday's game in a very tight and very revealing rubber dress, laced up the front and back. I hope she isn't offended when I say here that I could not take my eyes off of her chest (which is why my game name for the evening was "Lost in Jen's Cleavage". If the Mistress gives me permission, I'll go further into the stories she told me of her trip across The Pond.
In the meantime, welcome home and I'll see you soon!
As for Kinky Quizzo, as I said, this past week had a pretty good turn out and all seemed to have a good time (with the possible exception of a bitter man at the end of the bar who shall remain nameless). The prizes were well received and, once again, I didn't win a damn mutha-fuckin' thing, but Michael....oh Michael walked away with yet another addition for his basement version of Dungeon Disney, and Slaveboy (whom I've mentioned in previous posts) won first place.
A few strange sidebars of the evening: I finally, finally, started back at the gym this past week (after a year and a half). My arms were so sore that it was difficult to straighten them out, so I barely moved from the bar. But it was good to hear some positive and unexpected feedback from--of all people--Jen, when she told me she liked when I wore short sleeves. LOL Go figure! Thank you!!
Second strange thing of the evening concerned the guy sitting next to me. He's been a regular at the bar for years, but I never really spoke with him and don't even know his name. When I first walked in, he asked if I had been at the bathhouse the night before. I told him know, but he insisted he saw me there. Anyway, by the end of the game, he turned to me and asked if he could go home with me and would I please make him some dinner.
What the fuck?
But that was only the first part of the story. The second part takes place the next day, which I'll continue in my next post.
1 comment:
You have my permission to speak about my trip - the club I went to I assume is what you are refering to...whatever - write on. I am cracking up loudly at work reading about your day!
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