Missed Photo Ops.

Last night Mistress and Slave went to an outdoor concert along our City’s wide and meandering River.

But before we headed off, Mistress stopped by my office for some worship. My colleagues, for the most part, had headed home. So our session was a bit more relaxed.

She took her throne, the chair pressed against the door, a blanket laid down to protect her soft skin from the scratchy upholstery; And to protect the scratchy upholstery from her flowing juices.


This sort of therapy seems good for both of us.

It takes the edge of Mistress’s day. She can relax and let me use my mouth and tongue to draw a squirming shuddering orgasm or two from her.

And, after my own day of wheedling, cajoling, threatening (nicely) and scheming, it reminds me that my highest, best and most rewarding use is to pleasure my Mistress.

Then we were off to our show.

The performer was an aging rocker (as it turns out, just about my age) performing old familiar songs with some exotic orchestrations. The crowd was a comfortable one: lots of aging boomers like me. Mistress was at the good end of the age curve for this one, and her Slave was right around the mean.

She was in that short, patterned black and white dress I fancy, with some tasteful heals. And of course, there was no one there who looked nearly as glamorous.

A highlight of the show came when the singer took us on a musical tour through the haunted streets of New Orleans, a full moon on the video above him, as lightening flashed and thunder crashed along our River.

Marveling at the army of performers on the stage, I kicked myself for not bringing my camera. The little one on my blackberry just was not cutting it, and we had seats that would have provided amazing shots of this graying hero.

Which got me thinking about other types of photos.

The Times had a story earlier this week about folks who spend their days screening and scrubbing “offensive” images from the internet. Mostly for social media sites like Facebook. It sounds like a tedious and sometimes disturbing job.

I was wondering about the photos we post here from time to time, and whether the folks at Google have some scrubbers out there pondering whether our HNT posts are H enough for their standards.

There does seem to be a correlation between an increased number of “hits’ and particularly appealing shots of Mistress. Monday’s photo of Mistress with hands tied, and her “bottom cleavage” showing drew more than 200 views, at the upper end of what we typically experience.

But, believe me, there is some self-censorship going on here.

Mistress has the right to screen all of our photos. And she exercises that right when she believes the angle or content casts her in a less than alluring light. Or if the shot is just too revealing. There is both a blush and a vanity test that the photos must pass.

But both of us also have some odd voyeuristic desire to share these images of a body that remains lush and desirable in both a subjective and objective way.

Don’t you agree?

I made a mental list last night on our drive home through thunder, lightening then moon light, of some shots that I wish I could share, if only the camera had been on hand, or if they passed muster with Mistress’s discerning eye:

• The Slave’s eye view last night in my office, Mistress’s legs spread, her naughty parts naked and glistening, colorful panties draped around one ankle.
• Saturday night, driving home, her feet propped on the dash, ankles crossed, black panties hooked over her knees, my fingers buried in her damp cunt.
• Tied hand and foot to our lounge chair on the patio of our undisclosed mountain location, well sun screened, luxuriating in those high desert rays.
• Mistress’s head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, listening to the seductive words of our Western Correspondent as her hand guides her trusty power tool at his direction.
• Or maybe the view of her ass and thigh muscles flexing and churning while I guide the Hitachi through slightly parted legs from behind, to the sweet spot that sends her over the edge.

Well, I guess we’d need a video to capture that one. Hmmmm.