It was the trip home that never seemed to end. It went on and on and on and on. And just when you thought that it was over and you could go home, it still kept going on and on and on and on. It went on so much it started to get comical.
Flight delays, luggage delays and no fucking cornetto ice-cream to make it all worthwhile. I was not a happy camper. Who would have thought that going from one side of Australia to the other would be so difficult? All I can say it that the relationship between QANTAS and I is very strained at present. But anyways, I got home in one piece and Master was waiting for me at the airport, true to form with camera in hand. We kissed and then he started the ‘bum rub’ and ‘ hair pull’. It was nice to be home.
Unfortunately the Hooker 2007 look didn’t look as hooker-ish as I thought and the “Come fuck me” boots were quote, unquote, “Nice day boots, but not really in the “Come fuck me” boot league.” Ahh well, I guess you can’t hit the hooker look nail on the head all the time. As I said, my main problem was that I went so far into hooker territory the first time I came over that anything else I wear now just pales in comparison. But I was sad that I had disappointed Master so I made up for it with an alternative hooker outfit for our supermarket visit. There’s nothing quite like scaring wholesome couples and families in your local supermarket on a quiet Saturday afternoon.
We’ve had a nice quiet weekend, with some long warm cuddles in bed and some boot wearing. Last night there was some show and tell and ensuing usage of Master’s new velcro wrist and ankle cuffs. There was also some Kurosawa bondage, also known as wrapping rope around your upper torso with arms at either side. ( I call it Kurosawa bondage because it just reminds me of what they do to prisoners in samurai movies.) He woke me up this morning with a charge into my bedroom followed by a few wallops of the riding crop on the doona to get me awake. Ahhh…it’s good to be home.
I had a ‘full grease and oil change’ while I was home – hair cut, waxing and chiro visits. I thought I would try and spruce up as much as I could for Master. I did think about going to see my GP and having a pap smear while I was there too, but I thought I might leave the guy to live out his life in small town gorilla territory in peace. Middle-aged men and pussy rings seem to be an explosive combination. So I’ll go and flash my pussy at my GP over here again, as he is already past the initial shock.
I’m trying to get into the mind-set of going back to uni tomorrow and ending my life of holiday leisure slut. I’m not looking forward to hitting the books again. Being hit by the books? Mmmmmmmm. Hitting the books again? Not so mmmmmmmm.