Smut-ergy

According to my little electronic dictionary, “synergy” is the interaction of two or more …. Agents to produce a combined effect greater than the sum of their separate effects : Exp., the synergy between artist and record company.”

Well lately in our little blogger community, I have noticed what could be called “smutt-ergy”, when through our communications or comments we all seem to be creating a higher (or would it really be “lower”) and more creative variety of smut than we might otherwise have  generated if left to our own deviant devices.

So….SFP bemoans her disconnect from Mr. C at “Peacefully Submissive”, and “Sin” at “Finding My Submission” offers up her Dom on some sort of long distance Lend Lease basis. The result becomes an erotic take on the Little Red Riding Hood mythology, and we are all wondering what SFP has on under the red cape.

Or Aisha talks about her assignment to acquire a yard stick at the State Fair for use by her Dom, then suddenly on her vanilla facebook page there is an “innocent” reference to that free yardstick.

But here in the Collins household, our favorite was the deviant tale of crossed explicit text messages that ended up on ‘Nilla’s  blog Monday, after our conference call with her last week, in which Mistress described receiving pictures of my caged cock while she was entertaining clients at the tennis tournament.

Yesterday Molly and Mick were up early, still groggy after a late night trip to the airport to collect surly teen #2 from a late summer trip to visit a friend in the Big Apple.  As is all too routine, the place was delayed, the bag was lost, and we had stumbled into bed around 1:30 am.

Fortunately I had worked up my “homework” the night before, and it included a little line about maybe there should be a TV show with the “tool time” man, but using X-rated tools..  But there was no opportunity or energy for morning sex. I was headed for another town, about 90 miles to the south.

So there I was, around 2 pm, waiting for a meeting in a somber office with photos of our President and his Attorney General on the wall, when checking my blackberry, I see a new e mail from  Snow9’s blog (no longer a secret identity for our heroine ‘Nilla) entitled “The Tool Guy”. 

As I scrolled through the twisted tale of sodden sub exploited by the Dom in the leather tool belt, and (of course) nothing else, I tried to keep a straight face for my more disciplined colleagues.

Of course, there is also a certain friendly but competitive synergy between the Collins household and that of our Western Correspondent. We seem to egg each other on for erotic bragging rights.

I actually made it home yesterday evening before Mistress got back from her own busy work day. . When she joined me in our bedroom, the Times was laying on my chest and I was waking groggily from a short but satisfying nap.

She told me about her day, and her talks with M, who must have missed her over the weekend.

“He says that he and B had sex for two hours this morning, Slave.”

Nice. M’s work schedule was a tad more flexible than ours on Monday.

“And that B must have had 20 orgasms….”

“Hmmmm…..are you feeling a little neglected, Mistress?”

She claimed not to be jealous, or particularly horny, but I could sense a little tension.

“I suppose we can’t lead the field everyday, Mistress.  Not even Lance Armstrong did that on the Tour in his day.”

Mistress had in her hand a bag of chocolate covered cherries that Surly teen #1 had brought back from her vacation for her loving mom.

Have I mentioned that Mistress has a thing for all things chocolate?

With one hand she was casually stripping off her work costume, down to black bra and undies, while, with the other hand she was helping herself to those little delicious treats. She even shared some with me.

She settled down next to me on the bed, and as she munched and chatted I shifted to a position between her legs, and helped free her cunt from those tight, confining panties.

Without getting her explicit consent, I found myself in a face first confrontation with those succulent smoothly shaved folds, my tongue gently reaching out for that first delicious taste. So much better than the mountain dew that had kept me awake on my drive to and from that day.

“Mistress Dew”, I suppose you could call it.

So as Mistress multitasked, savoring her chocolates, I savored her dew, taking her to a fine bucking orgasm.

Afterwards, Mistress used her I – phone to take a snapshot of the chocolate covered cherry bag.  Then she was keying words into her little device.

“What are you doing, Mistress.”

“Telling M that while he may have fucked B for two hours this morning, I got my cunt licked while eating chocolate covered cherries….”

Ahh. More Smut-ergy.