We needed a vacation. I work like a fucking machine running on espresso and 93 octane and you know the only way to get me off my laptop is a total disconnect from the outside world and tons of alcohol.
Done and done.
Mr. Practical doesn’t get shitfaced often because I am always behind the wheel, and I am always working, and I need to keep my wits about me in my line of work.
Enter the Four Day Mexican Cruise. Can someone say “Mas Cervezas, Por Favor?”
Puerto Vallarta, Cabo San Lucas, a ton of Margaritas, sun, bad food, good sex, and not work. Sounds like the right medicine for workaholism run amok.
Papa does nothing in mediocrity though so I’m paying for the suite. A whopping 330 square feet of room to tie you up in, I mean, stretch out. Clearly, I have some more sinister plans in mind. Very sinister indeed.
You will scream. You will shout. We are going to be the ship’s entertainment tonight, Babydoll.
Blindfold was left at home. This time I want to see your reaction. The fear settling in as you are roped to the California King by a California King. To see your face, your fear, as I was across the tiny little room and plug in the Hitachi.
This Hitachi looks new to you. Yeah, Daddy bought the 220 Watt, Sugar. We are gonna test some limits tonight.
Hellfire encompasses your sensitive parts and I see you kick, wiggle, then tell me more as I pull it away. That’s the fucking sexy bitch I have come to build my thoughts around. You ask for more when everyone else would be done.
Let’s soak this bed Kitten. Tonight I get to sleep in the wet spot.