 Ian laughed. “How very clandestine. Is there a secret handshake? Or maybe a secret flogger slap?” Taren looked over and arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you wish.” This time he did reach over with a hand and rubbed Ian’s tense thigh. “No secrets with us.” Ian wound his fingers through Taren’s and squeezed. “I know,” he said softly. “So, meet them…Kevin, I’d like to meet Kevin.” Nodding, Taren put both hands back on the wheel. “I’ll text him once we’re checked in. Should we review our rules and signals?” “I’d appreciate that, sir.” Ian fell back into his sub-over husband role by adding sir to the end of his sentence. “You start, boy.” “I’m not to be touched or spoken to unless you give permission and I should tell you if I refuse permission.” “Yes,” Taren said. “How should I do that? My safe word, sir?” “That seems excessive.” “It does, sir. Would a simple yes or no be sufficient, sir? A nod or head shake.” Taren nodded and looked over at Ian, smiling softly. “That works. Next on the list, your attire.” Ian snorted a laugh. “Sir, please. As little as possible or something that shows as much as possible.” “I’m down with that,” Taren said and laughed. “I believe you said, ‘I like showing you off and that I’d wear chaps, or netting or just a cock cage or my codpiece’, sir.”  Comments are closed.
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