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And so I started looking at Jamie's magazines. I started imagining.Maybe I could find a Mistress of my own. Maybe a Master. Maybe a title-less stud in...the back of a bar. Anything that didn't require batteries.Again, I know of the stereotypes, and most of you sneer whenever theMistress takes a lover. But what the hell can we do? Our men have becomewomen, dickless caricatures of sexless femininity. Men who get off ontheir own boyfriends while we have none at all. No one values a cheater,or. He invited me to walk around and check out the rest of the house while he took my bags down the hall and disappeared towards the kitchen. The rest of the house reminded me of a log cabin. It had a wood burning stove in this room and across the way a fireplace with carved mantle piece. There were photos of generations of family, homemade quilts and Afghans strewn across the furniture. The atmosphere was relaxing, just as I had imagined with leather furniture well worn and inviting, a smell of. "In a meek voice she said " that is exactly why I did. I was hoping that if you felt the same we could do something about it today."I stood up and put my hand out. She took my hand and I lead her to my bedroom. I sat on the bed and she sat next to me. I put my hand on her face then leaned in kissing her softly on the lips. We kissed softly for awhile my hand stroking her cheek. Our kisses got more passionate. Our tongues played back and forth. I put my hand on her bare thigh sliding it up the. I could see the edges of my vision blurring and tinting red as I looked at her father, and behind him, my struggling girlfriend. Her face was torn with sadness and fear, her arms flailing, reaching out for me to come get her. Alas, I would be deterred by the lawmen. For the briefest of instants, I made eye contact with her father. I saw straight into his soul, a veritable briar patch of unpleasantness. I saw triumph, cold and brooding behind his mask of concern. He shot me a little smirk. That.
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