Don't let people fool you about the life of a musician on the road. The gigs are fun but the driving is hell! There is nothing quite like climbing into a van full of "the great unwashed" and traveling for hours to the next gig. Really -- nothing (unless, of course, sour, unwashed body smells are your particular fetish). However, middle age, a marriage -- and a day gig -- bring about some changes.
On this particular weekend the gig was close enough away that I drove myself. This meant that my wife, Ana, could come along. The gig was a festival in a small resort town about six hours away from home. We played our last show late Saturday evening to a small and very appreciative audience. Fortunately the festival sponsor was a good sport, and set us up in a nearby hotel room for the night. We dropped into bed, exhausted, and fell quickly to sleep.
Sunday was a bright, warm, Indian-Summer day. We bid farewell to the rest of the band (dodging that little tear-down thing) and made a hasty retreat. Because the weather was so nice, Ana and I decided to "take the road less traveled." A quick look at the map revealed a nice back road that would allow us to travel about half of our journey through farm country and along the river.
Our little detour took most of the morning and into the early afternoon. We ate breakfast at little fruit stands along the way and enjoyed the pretty fall colors. But all good things must come to an end. We were just about to pull back onto the Interstate when Ana asked if we could stop at a wayside. We pulled off the road and down a small lane to the river. The park was a secluded place, with no shade or bathrooms, and seemed a strange place to stop, but Ana wanted to stretch her legs, so stop we did.
She grinned at me mischievously, "wanna try something fun?"
I knew this look well. It meant that my beautiful Ana was feeling kinky, and that we would both win in the end. Of course I hurriedly agreed to her offer.
"Strip for me, then," she demanded.
"With a worried look around at the fishing boats in the river, I replied, "here?!"
"Of course, silly. They can't see you from here. Now be a nice little slut for me and strip your clothes off or I'll spank your cute little butt."
I slipped out of my clothing, keeping a worried eye on the fishing boats; the only people within eyeshot. As I was disrobing, Ana was removing a bag I hadn't noticed from the back of the car. "Come over here, to the passenger side." I walked around the car, as she lowered the seat on the passenger side of the car so that it was completely reclined.
"In you go," she commanded. I sat down and reclined on the seat. Ana went to the back of the car and opened the hatchback.
"Give me your hands." I stretched my hands as far as I could reach over my head. Ana quickly attached a pair of leather cuffs and tied them off to the headrest in the back seat. She came around to the passenger door and patted the dash, indicating that I should place my feet up there. Another pair of cuffs and some rope quickly restrained my legs to the handhold on the dash.
"It needs just a little more, I think," she commented, reaching back into her bag. She found a penis gag that was strapped tightly into my mouth. A quick tickle of my toes elicited nothing more than a mumbled grunt. She looked pleased with the result, but reached into the bag one last time. "Bye" she chuckled as she placed a blindfold over my eyes.
