Here in River City it seems that summer just began and is already fading away. Things traditionally pick up speed at work after Labor Day, and we barely slowed down. (Thankfully we have a week away planned starting a week from today to grab back some of that lost summer.)
But yesterday there was a little break for us around noon time. Mistress walked over between meetings, and we had a chance for a little mid-day celebration of those clean shaven folds.
Our loyal readers know the drill by now: Slave pushed the door closed, and the chair against it. The blanket I keep there for such occasions was placed on its seat. Then Mistress hiked up her dress and shimmied out of her black undies, sitting on her throne as her Slave fell to his knees to savor her addictive juices.
What a lovely lunch break.
We had driven to work together, and when we headed home, Mistress spoke with her lover J about some plans for this evening. With what we hope will be an empty nest tonight (presuming our daughter up the road doesn't make a surprise appearance), our plan is to pick up J and his bicycle, go for an early evening ride, maybe go out for dinner, and then have Ja do a "sleepover" here with Mistress.
After the call, Mistress made sure her Slave was on board.
"You don't mind J spending the night do you, Slave?"
I assured her that Slave remains "cool" with her sexual adventuring. After all, I do get plenty of action, don't I.
We did spend a little time watching the final night of GOP coverage from Tampa. The cute video with all those Romney family photos for a moment had me thinking that the guy running for President wasn't the wooden plutocrat with hidden tax returns but actually Ozzie Nelson with his devoted Harriet at his side.
But the night was really hijacked by that great Amercian Clint Eastwood. In his alternative universe, the President is some guy who sits there and tells an old movie actor to "shut-up" and that Mitt should "go fuck himself". By now Mistress was asleep, and I knew the story of the day on the morning after would not be whatever speech Mitt gave, but the sheer wackidoodle of this cranky old man talking to an empty chair and asking the crowd to "make his day."
Ok.... enough with this AM's morning rant.
Since Mistress is likely to be sleeping in another bed tonight, maybe it would be wise for me to sign off now, and make sure there is plenty time this morning for Slave to get some action.
Friday, August 31, 2012
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Mistress Has a Date Night
It's been more than a week since Mistress had a chance to spend some time with her lover J. So with our schedule finally clearing a bit, and the sullen ones off to their respective campuses, she announced she'd be spending the evening "out".
Slave was content to spend the evening home, enjoying a bike ride, and then some measured doses of the GOP convention, which I had to turn off a few times in order to control my surging blood pressure. Only small snippets can work with me. Though I had to speculate about the "after party" conversation between Rand Paul and Condi Rice, when he explained his theory about how those pesky civil rights laws that allowed her to move beyond the segregation of her youth were actually an unconstitutional imposition on states' rights.
She did check in on their way back from dinner. "We're going back to J's house, Slave.... I'll be home in a few hours.... though I'm not sure I'm going to let J fuck me tonight."
Of course, this was intended as a tease for J, sitting next to her in the car. He and I then talked a bit about the evening's proceedings in Tampa, before they signed off, and Slave returned to Mike Huckabee, explaining his theory about why the President isn't a true Christian.
Mistress did come home, at around 10:30 pm or so. She and J both have early morning obligations.
I try not to pry about their activities, but she did share that there was some "fooling around".
"He likes to spend time between my legs, Slave.... must have been licking down there for 30 minutes or more."
It seems Mistress has J's training well in hand.
But she wasn't going to deny me my opportunity, settling back on the bed, her legs open, encouraging me to kneel for her.
"Do I taste different, Slave?"
"Hmmmm.... a little, Mistress."
Of course, she was a little too tired to allow her Slave the "full monty". I'm making sure to wake her early this am, to make sure there is plenty of time.
Slave was content to spend the evening home, enjoying a bike ride, and then some measured doses of the GOP convention, which I had to turn off a few times in order to control my surging blood pressure. Only small snippets can work with me. Though I had to speculate about the "after party" conversation between Rand Paul and Condi Rice, when he explained his theory about how those pesky civil rights laws that allowed her to move beyond the segregation of her youth were actually an unconstitutional imposition on states' rights.
She did check in on their way back from dinner. "We're going back to J's house, Slave.... I'll be home in a few hours.... though I'm not sure I'm going to let J fuck me tonight."
Of course, this was intended as a tease for J, sitting next to her in the car. He and I then talked a bit about the evening's proceedings in Tampa, before they signed off, and Slave returned to Mike Huckabee, explaining his theory about why the President isn't a true Christian.
Mistress did come home, at around 10:30 pm or so. She and J both have early morning obligations.
I try not to pry about their activities, but she did share that there was some "fooling around".
"He likes to spend time between my legs, Slave.... must have been licking down there for 30 minutes or more."
It seems Mistress has J's training well in hand.
But she wasn't going to deny me my opportunity, settling back on the bed, her legs open, encouraging me to kneel for her.
"Do I taste different, Slave?"
"Hmmmm.... a little, Mistress."
Of course, she was a little too tired to allow her Slave the "full monty". I'm making sure to wake her early this am, to make sure there is plenty of time.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
An Unexpected Cock from the Past
Yesterday morning we were actually able to "sleep in" a little later than on recent work days. Not having to leave the house until 8:30 am gave Mistress and Slave a little extra wiggle room for some robust wake-up sex before our morning oblutions.
Ahhh.
It almost made up for too many early mornings in the last week or two.
Later, after work, we headed to a political "cook out" at a local party poo-bah's home. An annual event where we can catch up with the usual suspects in River City's Democratic scene. As Mistress was talking to a former Mayor, I noticed a tall, early 60ish man that I'd not seen here before. Then I heard him introduce himself to the host.
The name rang a funny bell.
It was a name from Mistress's past. Once, years ago, she mentioned him when we were trading stories about past sexual adventures. A lobbyist she had "encountered" back when she was about 22, while working for a now more prominent politician, not long after she graduated from College.
What I remembered most about her stories about this guy, who we'll call D, was that he had an enormous "hard to fit" cock.
"It actually hurt....." is what I remember her saying, though since their affair covered several months, it seems she must have learned how to accommodate it.If at first you don't succeed.....
I also knew something else about this guy: he was married to a woman (his 2nd wife) who was my family's neighbor, back in my high school days. (the girl was about 4 years younger than me).
Got that: He used to fuck my wife (before I knew her); I used to live next door to his current wife (before he knew her). Yes, it's a small state.
So Slave's mind was swirling with the potential of making both D and Mistress squirm if I could bring the two of them back together in an unexpected encounter. Fortunately, D looked in my direction, and I reached out my hand and introduced myself.
"You know, I think you're married to an old neighbor of mine", mentioning her name. He actually recalled the connection, recounting a story his wife had told him about the infamous "Collins" brothers and their partisan proclivities, even back in high school.
Mistress was next to me but was still focused on the former Mayor, not aware of who I was talking to, or her smutty past connection to him.
But I had to change that, didn't I?
"D, let me introduce you to my wife, I think you may know her....."
I got Mistress's attention, and "introduced" the two of them by name.
It was quite amusing to watch Mistress's jaw drop, and to see D's confused recognition, after a few seconds, of an old flame that wass now married to someone else.
Oops.
Mistress "reminded" him that she used to work for the same politician that he is now shilling for in a big statewide campaign that is getting some national attention.
I think they were both a wee bit embarrassed.
Cute.
And, sadly, as the crowd swirled, they did not get any private time to "reconnect". I do wonder if D will reach out with a linked in connect or email in the week to come.
And of course, it did give Slave an opportunity to tease a bit.
As we glanced at him across the crowded lawn, I had to say, "Gee, Mistress, do you think he still has that big cock....?"
"They say they don't usually shrink, Slave." (Can you hear the sarcasm dripping?)
"I wonder how it compares to WC's special occasion cock?"
"I guess I'll never know, Slave...."
Once we got home, and while I didn't have one of those "ginormous" cocks to test Mistress's capacity, I did make sure to deploy my well trained tongue to please her as best I could.
And this morning... well.... hopefully shell be willing to forgive my little stunt last night.
Ahhh.
It almost made up for too many early mornings in the last week or two.
Later, after work, we headed to a political "cook out" at a local party poo-bah's home. An annual event where we can catch up with the usual suspects in River City's Democratic scene. As Mistress was talking to a former Mayor, I noticed a tall, early 60ish man that I'd not seen here before. Then I heard him introduce himself to the host.
The name rang a funny bell.
It was a name from Mistress's past. Once, years ago, she mentioned him when we were trading stories about past sexual adventures. A lobbyist she had "encountered" back when she was about 22, while working for a now more prominent politician, not long after she graduated from College.
What I remembered most about her stories about this guy, who we'll call D, was that he had an enormous "hard to fit" cock.
"It actually hurt....." is what I remember her saying, though since their affair covered several months, it seems she must have learned how to accommodate it.If at first you don't succeed.....
I also knew something else about this guy: he was married to a woman (his 2nd wife) who was my family's neighbor, back in my high school days. (the girl was about 4 years younger than me).
Got that: He used to fuck my wife (before I knew her); I used to live next door to his current wife (before he knew her). Yes, it's a small state.
So Slave's mind was swirling with the potential of making both D and Mistress squirm if I could bring the two of them back together in an unexpected encounter. Fortunately, D looked in my direction, and I reached out my hand and introduced myself.
"You know, I think you're married to an old neighbor of mine", mentioning her name. He actually recalled the connection, recounting a story his wife had told him about the infamous "Collins" brothers and their partisan proclivities, even back in high school.
Mistress was next to me but was still focused on the former Mayor, not aware of who I was talking to, or her smutty past connection to him.
But I had to change that, didn't I?
"D, let me introduce you to my wife, I think you may know her....."
I got Mistress's attention, and "introduced" the two of them by name.
It was quite amusing to watch Mistress's jaw drop, and to see D's confused recognition, after a few seconds, of an old flame that wass now married to someone else.
Oops.
Mistress "reminded" him that she used to work for the same politician that he is now shilling for in a big statewide campaign that is getting some national attention.
I think they were both a wee bit embarrassed.
Cute.
And, sadly, as the crowd swirled, they did not get any private time to "reconnect". I do wonder if D will reach out with a linked in connect or email in the week to come.
And of course, it did give Slave an opportunity to tease a bit.
As we glanced at him across the crowded lawn, I had to say, "Gee, Mistress, do you think he still has that big cock....?"
"They say they don't usually shrink, Slave." (Can you hear the sarcasm dripping?)
"I wonder how it compares to WC's special occasion cock?"
"I guess I'll never know, Slave...."
Once we got home, and while I didn't have one of those "ginormous" cocks to test Mistress's capacity, I did make sure to deploy my well trained tongue to please her as best I could.
And this morning... well.... hopefully shell be willing to forgive my little stunt last night.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Sex Education 101 (1967)
Mistress and Slave made it home safely Sunday evening, though poor Mistress was back in another car bight and early Monday for a long drive to the north with some work colleagues. Fortunately, she got home early enough last night for a bike ride to knock out some of those non-sexual kinks.
Last night we simply relaxed in our empty nest, relieved that we have some time together again without too many prying eyes and ears around.
While we were on the road last week, I did not have the time to comment here on the lunatic ramblings of the Missouri Senate candidates and his biological theory that women's reproductive systems simply "shut that down" when subject to a "legitimate rape". As the week progressed it seemed that more politicos got their feet stuck in the same crazy swamp, with frat boy Paul Ryan noting that rape was just another "method of conception".
But as the media pealed back Scott Aiken's biologocal theories the scary part to me was that he cited as his medical source the guy who provided me and my high school classmates the only class that passed for "sex education" at my Catholic High School here in River City back in 1967.
Of course, even as a high school Junior poor Slave's sex education was rather spartan. Of course, I knew what "felt good", and was always trying to do it with my high school girl friend, who let me get about as far as a pick off play between 2nd and 3rd bases. I also knew that there were sometimes of the month that my girl friend got pissy and would not go swimming. What the fuck was that about?
But the notion of birth control and its various methodologies was grad school material as far as I was concerned.
So when Dr. Jack Willke and his wife Barbara showed up to explain it all to us, I was all ears.
Sadly, the presentation was limited to a "scare them abstinent" approach.... sex is an evil impulse, that should be abused only when you decide to make babies. If you "experiment" you're likely to get the poor girl pregnant, and that will ruin your life and hers". Then, so, "once you are married, and the girls in the class feel compelled to submit to your pathetic husband's concupiscent demands, here's how to avoid getting pregnant...."
We then got a detailed description of the "rhythm method", which involved monitoring the phases of the moon as far as I could tell as the presentation proceeded.
Even at the tender age of 16 or so, this rap made me roll my eyes at these incredibly un-cool, tedious scolds.
Dr. Willke and his wife later emerged as the local and then national leaders of the "Right to Life" movement, as the discussion of abortion obsessed so many people in the years prior to and after Roe v. Wade.
But I had thought Dr. Willke had faded from public view years ago.
But no, there he was, last week, being cited in the national media as the "medical" source of the theory ( an old wives' tale that apparently has floated around for centuries) that a woman must be "acceptive" of conception, and therefore, in the event of "legitimate" rape her reproductive equipment will be all "spastic" and tense, therefore dodging conception.
Fortunately, I didn't remember this little lesson as part of their 60's era sex education curriculum. The subtext, of course, is that the only women who claim they became pregnant as a result of "rape" were not raped at all, but must have been "looking for it", either by the way they addressed or behaved. As a result, there really is no need for a "rape" exception for any abortion prohibition, is there?
Of course, from the perspective of a father of four daughters, rather than a horny teen, this attitude is not just quaint but frightening. It's certainly something to consider as we go to vote, isn't it.
OK.... enough for political screeds this week, dear readers. I promise, there is more sex for this sex blog to come. In fact I better get upstairs right now!
Last night we simply relaxed in our empty nest, relieved that we have some time together again without too many prying eyes and ears around.
While we were on the road last week, I did not have the time to comment here on the lunatic ramblings of the Missouri Senate candidates and his biological theory that women's reproductive systems simply "shut that down" when subject to a "legitimate rape". As the week progressed it seemed that more politicos got their feet stuck in the same crazy swamp, with frat boy Paul Ryan noting that rape was just another "method of conception".
But as the media pealed back Scott Aiken's biologocal theories the scary part to me was that he cited as his medical source the guy who provided me and my high school classmates the only class that passed for "sex education" at my Catholic High School here in River City back in 1967.
Of course, even as a high school Junior poor Slave's sex education was rather spartan. Of course, I knew what "felt good", and was always trying to do it with my high school girl friend, who let me get about as far as a pick off play between 2nd and 3rd bases. I also knew that there were sometimes of the month that my girl friend got pissy and would not go swimming. What the fuck was that about?
But the notion of birth control and its various methodologies was grad school material as far as I was concerned.
So when Dr. Jack Willke and his wife Barbara showed up to explain it all to us, I was all ears.
Sadly, the presentation was limited to a "scare them abstinent" approach.... sex is an evil impulse, that should be abused only when you decide to make babies. If you "experiment" you're likely to get the poor girl pregnant, and that will ruin your life and hers". Then, so, "once you are married, and the girls in the class feel compelled to submit to your pathetic husband's concupiscent demands, here's how to avoid getting pregnant...."
We then got a detailed description of the "rhythm method", which involved monitoring the phases of the moon as far as I could tell as the presentation proceeded.
Even at the tender age of 16 or so, this rap made me roll my eyes at these incredibly un-cool, tedious scolds.
Dr. Willke and his wife later emerged as the local and then national leaders of the "Right to Life" movement, as the discussion of abortion obsessed so many people in the years prior to and after Roe v. Wade.
But I had thought Dr. Willke had faded from public view years ago.
But no, there he was, last week, being cited in the national media as the "medical" source of the theory ( an old wives' tale that apparently has floated around for centuries) that a woman must be "acceptive" of conception, and therefore, in the event of "legitimate" rape her reproductive equipment will be all "spastic" and tense, therefore dodging conception.
Fortunately, I didn't remember this little lesson as part of their 60's era sex education curriculum. The subtext, of course, is that the only women who claim they became pregnant as a result of "rape" were not raped at all, but must have been "looking for it", either by the way they addressed or behaved. As a result, there really is no need for a "rape" exception for any abortion prohibition, is there?
Of course, from the perspective of a father of four daughters, rather than a horny teen, this attitude is not just quaint but frightening. It's certainly something to consider as we go to vote, isn't it.
OK.... enough for political screeds this week, dear readers. I promise, there is more sex for this sex blog to come. In fact I better get upstairs right now!
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Coming to Ground on the East Coast
I'm writing from the awninged deck of a B & B where Mistress and Slave have come to ground in one of those old East Coast beach towns where most folks resemble someone from the cast of the Sopranos. And way to many of those remind you of Tony's crazy sister, whatever her name is. The sun is coming up over a coastal lake, some sprinkles are tapping on the awning, and the breeze is gently churning the flowering trees that surround this little oasis.
Mistress is snoozing in bed, and I am awaiting her call.
Slave's been remiss this week in updating all of you on our adventures, but most were pretty mundane. The early morning departure with our whiny sullen teen on Wednesday for her new life in College. Dinner with a long lost cousin who lives not far from her campus, then the overnight in a nearby "sketchy" Motel, where the teen lectured us on how inappropriate it was to make her share a room with us at her lofty age.
"It's not like we were doing anything .... ummmm.... wrong", I muttered to Mistress. Ah well, it was out last night together for a while, and Slave would just have to stifle, I suppose.
The next day there was the big move-in to her dorm, meeting the roomies, and the official greetings from the President of this small liberal arts college, who insists that everyone call him "Sandy."
Somehow I don't think I would have gotten away with calling my University President "Ted", but times have changed, and most likely for the better. That eye popping tuition lets you call the President whatever you want, I suppose.
After our daughter made it clear to us that our presence had become an embarrassment it was time to go. Some tearful goodbyes behind us, we considered an evening exploring the sights of her new town ... but had a better idea.
After all, (sit down loyal readers) it had been TWO WHOLE DAYS since there was a chance for any type of sexual encounter for us. So it was back to the sketchy motel, where we tossed back the bedspread that our daughter had suggested one could AIDS from (I can't make this shit up) and got down to business.
"Don't have high expectations, Mistress, I'm not sure I remember how to do this...."
But, it all came back with surprising ease. First I made sure to lavish attention on the still clean shaven folds, assuring that Mistress had a nice starter cum. Then she turned her attention to my firm and drooling cock, which needed no priming prior to completing it's mission. Actually. the ambiance of the sketchy motel room seemed only to enhance the furtive fun of our fucking.
Maybe someday our daughter will come to value such retro joys? Or even her parents.
We made sure to take advantage of our privacy again yesterday morning, before climbing back in our rented mini-van (needed to transport all the stuff that our non-material girl needs to survive for the next few months), and heading to the "Sho-wa". And after a day soaking up sun on the crowded beach we made sure to reserve some time for another round of fucking in our B & B before dinner.
We found a cute little organic restaurant where we ate on the deck, watching the Sopranos cast walk bye, wondering about the guys who go to dinner on a Friday night with their family in tank tops and shorts.
"I guess it's so they can display those fancy tatoos, Mistress?"
Then we strolled the crowded board walk, though we passed on the bumper cars. I led the way, steering us past the bars and restaurants, including one with a large collection of drag queens preening on the deck. Diversity has come to the Shore!
When we found ourselves back at our B & B, Mistress was impressed.
"I had no idea where we were Slave....."
"See guys are good for a few things.... sense of direction... cocks...."
"Carrying baggage too."
"That, too, Mistress...."
It was
We did see a machine on the boardwalk that brought to mind the big question that all "old" married couples have to consider when their little ones finally leave the nest.
Although the details may be obscure, I have a feeling they will include a lot of sex.
Mistress is snoozing in bed, and I am awaiting her call.
Slave's been remiss this week in updating all of you on our adventures, but most were pretty mundane. The early morning departure with our whiny sullen teen on Wednesday for her new life in College. Dinner with a long lost cousin who lives not far from her campus, then the overnight in a nearby "sketchy" Motel, where the teen lectured us on how inappropriate it was to make her share a room with us at her lofty age.
"It's not like we were doing anything .... ummmm.... wrong", I muttered to Mistress. Ah well, it was out last night together for a while, and Slave would just have to stifle, I suppose.
The next day there was the big move-in to her dorm, meeting the roomies, and the official greetings from the President of this small liberal arts college, who insists that everyone call him "Sandy."
Somehow I don't think I would have gotten away with calling my University President "Ted", but times have changed, and most likely for the better. That eye popping tuition lets you call the President whatever you want, I suppose.
After our daughter made it clear to us that our presence had become an embarrassment it was time to go. Some tearful goodbyes behind us, we considered an evening exploring the sights of her new town ... but had a better idea.
After all, (sit down loyal readers) it had been TWO WHOLE DAYS since there was a chance for any type of sexual encounter for us. So it was back to the sketchy motel, where we tossed back the bedspread that our daughter had suggested one could AIDS from (I can't make this shit up) and got down to business.
"Don't have high expectations, Mistress, I'm not sure I remember how to do this...."
But, it all came back with surprising ease. First I made sure to lavish attention on the still clean shaven folds, assuring that Mistress had a nice starter cum. Then she turned her attention to my firm and drooling cock, which needed no priming prior to completing it's mission. Actually. the ambiance of the sketchy motel room seemed only to enhance the furtive fun of our fucking.
Maybe someday our daughter will come to value such retro joys? Or even her parents.
We made sure to take advantage of our privacy again yesterday morning, before climbing back in our rented mini-van (needed to transport all the stuff that our non-material girl needs to survive for the next few months), and heading to the "Sho-wa". And after a day soaking up sun on the crowded beach we made sure to reserve some time for another round of fucking in our B & B before dinner.
We found a cute little organic restaurant where we ate on the deck, watching the Sopranos cast walk bye, wondering about the guys who go to dinner on a Friday night with their family in tank tops and shorts."I guess it's so they can display those fancy tatoos, Mistress?"
Then we strolled the crowded board walk, though we passed on the bumper cars. I led the way, steering us past the bars and restaurants, including one with a large collection of drag queens preening on the deck. Diversity has come to the Shore!
When we found ourselves back at our B & B, Mistress was impressed.
"I had no idea where we were Slave....."
"See guys are good for a few things.... sense of direction... cocks...."
"Carrying baggage too."
"That, too, Mistress...."
It was
We did see a machine on the boardwalk that brought to mind the big question that all "old" married couples have to consider when their little ones finally leave the nest.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Still Switching After All These Years.
You will be happy to know that despite the prying ears of our little darling, I made sure Mistress got a full dosage of switch on Sunday morning, before a long bike ride that had the teen moaning about the sore muscles we had forced upon her.
Indeed, it was Mistress doing the moaning after I tied her to the bed (the classical music station on to mask those erotic sounds from the teen down the hall). I will provide the illustrations.... Just imagine what a well positioned Hitachi Magic Wand might squeeze from a securely bound damsel with a string quartet playing in the background.
Now I better haul my ass back upstairs and get our morning going properly before we are out the door for another unnecessary 8 am meeting on Mistress's dance card.
We will be back in touch -- liberated -- by the weekend. Have a good week all.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
One Down
I suppose I should be grateful that sorority girls are disinclined to do anything before 11 am on a Saturday morning.
That was the announced time for our departure to her campus yesterday, giving Mistress and Slave some time for a leisurely session of worship and fucking in the executive suite here at the UCTMW World HQ, followed by a bike ride in some mercifully cool weather here before we loaded up TWO vehicles for the hour drive to her leafy, bucolic campus just north of here.
Don't get me started on all the stuff that she needed to haul up there. Lots of clothes, shoes and other paraphernalia , much of which consisted of the equipment you need to help store, stack or contain all the stuff you are trying to shmush into a small space while still making room for another sorority's girls stuff and related containment and storage devices. This might lead a father to explain that with less "stuff" you might not need quite as much other stuff for storage, stacking and containment. But I do know when to shut up.
The biggest, heaviest item was a double sized futon / couch which barely fit between the two girls' single beds. Useful for..... well, I don;t think we want to go there, do we?
So once we hit campus, it was Slave's job to help haul all that stuff up to the 2nd floor room, as the women folk set to the organizational tasks - making beds, finding plugs for electronic devices, etc.
Fortunately, there was another father / field slave available when it came time to haul that futon up the stairs. I am very hopeful that next year, when our sorority girl no doubt will want to move into an off-campus house or apartment, there are some Frat Boys in her life who can do some of this heavy lifting! If not, then what was the point of hauling that double sized futon upstairs in the first place?
I know there are some readers out there wondering if Slave got an eyeful of the other sorority girls moving in. I did notice a few of them splayed on their beds as I was hauling stuff past open dorm room doors. There was even a sort of cute blonde wrapped in only a towel, emerging from the showers, which are communal, not "en suite".
But quite frankly, young nubile vacuous sorority girls are not my cup of tea. I much prefer the experienced, wise and authoritative Mistress in my life.
After a lunch on the cute little main street of this throw back college town, where one would expect to see Betty and Veronica emerging from the local Malt shop, we gave our daughter a hug goodbye and headed home.
The sullen teen had accompanied us, and dismissed the place with three words: "Way too preppy."
True. This is definitely Paul Ryan territory. Not for her, and I am grateful that she has her own values.
Back at home we needed to crash, and a nice nap, followed by an evening watching a cute but vapid movie at home was in order.
Mistress did fret a bit that our sex life has gotten a little vanilla of late. Too much time spent dealing with kids and work stresses. But these things go in cycles, don't they? A week from now our other daughter will be gone off to college, and the nest will be emptied for at least a few months.
But there's no need to contain ourselves until then. It is Switch Day here, after all. Maybe I can "whip something up" to surprise Mistress?
That was the announced time for our departure to her campus yesterday, giving Mistress and Slave some time for a leisurely session of worship and fucking in the executive suite here at the UCTMW World HQ, followed by a bike ride in some mercifully cool weather here before we loaded up TWO vehicles for the hour drive to her leafy, bucolic campus just north of here.Don't get me started on all the stuff that she needed to haul up there. Lots of clothes, shoes and other paraphernalia , much of which consisted of the equipment you need to help store, stack or contain all the stuff you are trying to shmush into a small space while still making room for another sorority's girls stuff and related containment and storage devices. This might lead a father to explain that with less "stuff" you might not need quite as much other stuff for storage, stacking and containment. But I do know when to shut up.
The biggest, heaviest item was a double sized futon / couch which barely fit between the two girls' single beds. Useful for..... well, I don;t think we want to go there, do we?
So once we hit campus, it was Slave's job to help haul all that stuff up to the 2nd floor room, as the women folk set to the organizational tasks - making beds, finding plugs for electronic devices, etc.
Fortunately, there was another father / field slave available when it came time to haul that futon up the stairs. I am very hopeful that next year, when our sorority girl no doubt will want to move into an off-campus house or apartment, there are some Frat Boys in her life who can do some of this heavy lifting! If not, then what was the point of hauling that double sized futon upstairs in the first place?
I know there are some readers out there wondering if Slave got an eyeful of the other sorority girls moving in. I did notice a few of them splayed on their beds as I was hauling stuff past open dorm room doors. There was even a sort of cute blonde wrapped in only a towel, emerging from the showers, which are communal, not "en suite".
But quite frankly, young nubile vacuous sorority girls are not my cup of tea. I much prefer the experienced, wise and authoritative Mistress in my life.
The sullen teen had accompanied us, and dismissed the place with three words: "Way too preppy."
True. This is definitely Paul Ryan territory. Not for her, and I am grateful that she has her own values.
Back at home we needed to crash, and a nice nap, followed by an evening watching a cute but vapid movie at home was in order.
Mistress did fret a bit that our sex life has gotten a little vanilla of late. Too much time spent dealing with kids and work stresses. But these things go in cycles, don't they? A week from now our other daughter will be gone off to college, and the nest will be emptied for at least a few months.
But there's no need to contain ourselves until then. It is Switch Day here, after all. Maybe I can "whip something up" to surprise Mistress?
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Moving (on) Day
Mistress and Slave are delivering their sorority girl daughter to her campus just north of River City today. It's been (sort of) nice to have her home this summer.... but the time has come.
And the days are short before the sullen teen, daughter number 2, gets delivered to her campus "back east" too.
Last night there was some extra bonding time with her. While Mistress did get some worship, our evening focused on me preparing some vegetarian pasta and then the three of us sitting down to watch a movie the teen selected, the Wes Anderson Darjeeling Limited, a crazy cartoonishly lit movie about three sons on a quest to find their long departed Mother (Angelica Huston) in India. When they finally do "find" her, at a convent in the Himilayas, it's clear that she's glad to see them, but is more than ready for them to move on and find their own lives.
At this point, I think Mistress and I can relate.
And watching the movie with my daughter, I wondered if she wanted us to see that she got the message. Or did she like the movie because it starred Owen Wilson?
Another of life's mysteries.
Don't worry friends. We hope to get back to being a sex blog soon enough.
And the days are short before the sullen teen, daughter number 2, gets delivered to her campus "back east" too.
Last night there was some extra bonding time with her. While Mistress did get some worship, our evening focused on me preparing some vegetarian pasta and then the three of us sitting down to watch a movie the teen selected, the Wes Anderson Darjeeling Limited, a crazy cartoonishly lit movie about three sons on a quest to find their long departed Mother (Angelica Huston) in India. When they finally do "find" her, at a convent in the Himilayas, it's clear that she's glad to see them, but is more than ready for them to move on and find their own lives.
At this point, I think Mistress and I can relate.
And watching the movie with my daughter, I wondered if she wanted us to see that she got the message. Or did she like the movie because it starred Owen Wilson?
Another of life's mysteries.
Don't worry friends. We hope to get back to being a sex blog soon enough.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Keeping the Torch Lit
So last night we had an unexpected opportunity and grabbed it.
One daughter made plans for dinner with a friend. The other had a friend over. That meant we had some time to ourselves. Some pre-dinner worship by Slave got us both in the mood for a main course in lieu of the dinner we had planned o prepare for the four of us.
"Go put in your device, Slave...."
She was referring to the aneros, which had been gathering some dust on the bathroom shelf crying out for some lubricant.
After inserting it at her direction, and feeling that little jolt to my work-a-day cock, Slave returned to the bed for further proceedings, which culminated in me begging for her permission to cum, but only after I made sure she'd enjoyed one or two more herself.
It definitely was wise to take our opportunity when presented, because this morning we had to get up and out the door before 7 am for one of those infernal breakfast meetings which only the earnest business Herrs and Fraus of River City seem to schedule.
That means Slave has been pining for Mistress and some sexual release since last evening. And now Mistress is over at her lover J's house for a little "visit". She says she won't be too late.... but I suspect Slave will be expected to keep his own powder dry this evening.
Fortunately, there are no early breakfast meetings tomorrow for either of us.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Countdown....
We're letting you down, blog-o-verse. Molly and Mick have been in a rather dull routine of getting kids ready to leave for college, work, and, last night, joining some of Mistress's clients at a local tennis tournament. By the time we got home after 11 pm, neither one of us had the moxie for any sexual adventures.
Of course, there has been wake-up sex here at the UCTMW World HQ. But the close proximity of our sleeping children and the deck that needed a second coat of stain / sealer here cramped our Sunday Switch day stylings.
My other problem..... an addiction to the political news as the Presidential campaign in the states heats up. It's hard for me to tear myself away from the morning commentary, news and polling data to entertain you with our smutty musings.
But there is light at the end of the tunnel, we hope, and not just an oncoming train.
On Saturday we drop our cute Co-Ed off at her campus, just an hour up the road.
Then a week from this evening, we will be taking the sullen teen on the longer journey to her college on the east coast.
The nest will be empty again!!!!!
In the meantime, we will try to keep things a float here as best we can.
Mistress is invited over to J's love nest tomorrow evening for a little mid-week sleepover. She seemed a little reluctant. "I feel kind of guilty with the kids so close to leaving again...."
But I reassured her.
"Do you think they'd feel guilty if something more entertaining came up for them than hanging in the same house as their boring parents?"
Hardly. I think they are both looking forward to their restored unsupervised independence.
As are their parents!
Monday, August 13, 2012
Slacker Reports for Duty
Our Senior Correspondent, who has been "free lancing" in parts unknown of late, surprised me with the following post over the weekend. Maybe she's finally thinking about that lush year end bonus!
While I may be a slacker with the blog, I am never a lazybones when it comes to our sex life. One morning last week I was getting ready to ask Bill about an interesting anal toy I had spotted on-line, but just then he decided there was something more important I could do with my mouth. He doesn’t like me to talk with my mouth full, especially when it’s filled with his cock or balls, so first I bestowing loving attention, licks, slurps and good morning kisses to his balls and moved on to licking and sucking on his cock with enough enthusiasm to bring him to the point of making all those beautiful, deep, male cumming noises. Then we talked about the toy pictured here.
Donna
Senior Correspondent
Well, it seems this
Senior Correspondent for UCTMW has been slacking a bit. Okay, I’ve been
slacking a great deal with the blog lately, but I’ve been keeping busy with a
few other things.
I have been working with
Claire Thompson, doing both beta and editing work on her latest book, The
Story of Owen: One Man’s Submissive Journey, which was just released last week. You can read both the
blurb and an excerpt at Claire’s website, if you like: http://www.clairethompson.net/thestoryofowen.php .
To give you a hint, it’s
the story of a man who has lived a vanilla existence, always knowing he needed
something more – something different, but not able to pursue it. When Owen
reaches the point he is ready to explore his submissive side, a friend gives
him the business card of a Professional Dominatrix and all kinds of
things unfold from there.
While this book has
something to make every kinkster’s heart go pitter-pat, for those into
sado-masochism I’ll share that one section I particularly enjoyed has
predicament bondage with a cock and ball pillory. I also liked the bondage and
flogging, but you may already know that’s a personal favorite for me.
A unique thing about
Claire is that she actually lives the lifestyle. She has been part of the BDSM
community for many years and knows what she’s writing about. The book is erotic
fiction, of course, but Claire keeps things in the realm of reality. Speaking
of realism, see the headboard on the cover there? That is the very same style
headboard Bill and I have on our bed. That, used in conjunction with the
matching foot board, is perfect for handcuffing and bondage and all kinds of
fun!
While I may be a slacker with the blog, I am never a lazybones when it comes to our sex life. One morning last week I was getting ready to ask Bill about an interesting anal toy I had spotted on-line, but just then he decided there was something more important I could do with my mouth. He doesn’t like me to talk with my mouth full, especially when it’s filled with his cock or balls, so first I bestowing loving attention, licks, slurps and good morning kisses to his balls and moved on to licking and sucking on his cock with enough enthusiasm to bring him to the point of making all those beautiful, deep, male cumming noises. Then we talked about the toy pictured here.
It’s the Vibrating Anal Cone from Blush Novelties.
See how it has that corkscrew look to it? I was thinking that on those days
when you just know you’re going to get screwed over at work, you could wear one
of these and know that at least part of the screwing you were getting was of
your own choosing. And it’s available at Amazon. Who knew?
Donna
Senior Correspondent
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Nirvana in the Executive Suite
For a couple addicted to both sex and politics it really couldn't get much better than yesterday morning here at the UCTMW World HQ.
We woke to the big political news of the day, mining the internet, twitter and facebook for all the gossip of the new VP candidate on the GOP side. Picking the Wisconsin wunderkind best known for his cutmageddon budget plan had the Republican faithful in the type of fawning tizzy not seen since Bob Dole picked Jack Kemp to put a little juice in his campaign in 1996.
Even J got into the act, texting with both of us about the big news, and pointing out Ryan's uncanny resemblance to this 60's era TV star:
Actually, I think we were all a little sad that J wasn't there to join the fun. Mistress reported that J was pining for her to spend the night on Friday, when she dragged herself out of bed at about 10:15 pm, making sure she got home before the kids and I returned from the football game. It would have been a little hard to explain why Mom was out so late on a Friday night if we had arrived home to any empty house. Indeed, I made sure we stayed a little longer into garbage time in the 4th quarter to assure there would be no "hard to explain" questions asked if we got home to a missing Mom.
As the moment for the big Ryan roll-out approached on Saturday morning, we realized the window for wake-up sex would be closing soon, so the computers were tucked away, and Slave got down to worshiping those clean shaven folds that had seen plenty of action the evening before over at J's love shack.
"My back's a little sore, Slave, so go easy on me....."
"Too much cock riding?"
"Could be....."
Awww.... poor Mistress.
After we both enjoyed the fruits of our Saturday morning engagement, it was back to the TV . The ponderous musical selection seemed to spring from the golden trumpet of the Angel Moroni himself. Someone tweeted that it was actually the theme from that old movie "Air Force One." Sadly, Harrison Ford was not in the house to make the whole enterprise look "presidential".
We were amused when, in his effort to show enthusiasm, the former Massachusetts Governor and personal savior of the Olympic movement (with plenty of our tax dollars) introduced his newly anointed running mate as "the next President of the United States...."
"Is he already throwing in the towel .... and launching Ryan's 2016 campaign?"
But once the actual bloviating began, we'd had enough. We were off on a nice morning bikeride, after which Mistress took the girls on a "back to college" shopping binge. Slave had his work cut out restaining and sealing our deck. Every now and then I have to switch to field slave duties.
It wasn't until around 4 pm that we were able to reunite in the Executive Suite. Luckily, both girls had plans and we had no schedule. We settled in for a long late afternoon nap, followed by some more worship and fucking, with no political news to distract us.
Nice. Very nice.
Later we took dinner at a new hipster Taco joint in an old city neighborhood , with a southwest ambiance that will be the closest thing to our mountain hideaway we will see this month. We had hoped J could join us, but he got sucked into helping his parents move this weekend. But that did get us into some "cuckold / threeway" protocol issues.
"J says he let slip to his Mom that he's seeing "someone", and now his Mom says he should bring that "someone" over to meet them, Slave...."
Dinner with the boyfriend's parents? Now that would be interesting.
"That's OK by me, Mistress....."
"The problem is, how to explain all this.... he says they are pretty conservative and might not get the 'she's married but it's ok with her husband' thing....."
"Ahhhh..... that could be a little dicey....."
"J says his Mom would immediately start asking all sorts of questions.... and it is a small town....."
Yes, it is. Too many connections that cam easily be made. As our kids would say.... "awkward."
Somehow J will have to finesse this for a while with Mom and Dad. Do any of our readers have any tips on how to deal with this delicate issue of social protocol? Is there a potential kinky version of "Meet the Parents" in all this?
Should I send a letter to Dear Abby? Or Miss Manners?
We woke to the big political news of the day, mining the internet, twitter and facebook for all the gossip of the new VP candidate on the GOP side. Picking the Wisconsin wunderkind best known for his cutmageddon budget plan had the Republican faithful in the type of fawning tizzy not seen since Bob Dole picked Jack Kemp to put a little juice in his campaign in 1996.
Even J got into the act, texting with both of us about the big news, and pointing out Ryan's uncanny resemblance to this 60's era TV star:
As the moment for the big Ryan roll-out approached on Saturday morning, we realized the window for wake-up sex would be closing soon, so the computers were tucked away, and Slave got down to worshiping those clean shaven folds that had seen plenty of action the evening before over at J's love shack.
"My back's a little sore, Slave, so go easy on me....."
"Too much cock riding?"
"Could be....."
Awww.... poor Mistress.
After we both enjoyed the fruits of our Saturday morning engagement, it was back to the TV . The ponderous musical selection seemed to spring from the golden trumpet of the Angel Moroni himself. Someone tweeted that it was actually the theme from that old movie "Air Force One." Sadly, Harrison Ford was not in the house to make the whole enterprise look "presidential".
We were amused when, in his effort to show enthusiasm, the former Massachusetts Governor and personal savior of the Olympic movement (with plenty of our tax dollars) introduced his newly anointed running mate as "the next President of the United States...."
"Is he already throwing in the towel .... and launching Ryan's 2016 campaign?"
But once the actual bloviating began, we'd had enough. We were off on a nice morning bikeride, after which Mistress took the girls on a "back to college" shopping binge. Slave had his work cut out restaining and sealing our deck. Every now and then I have to switch to field slave duties.
It wasn't until around 4 pm that we were able to reunite in the Executive Suite. Luckily, both girls had plans and we had no schedule. We settled in for a long late afternoon nap, followed by some more worship and fucking, with no political news to distract us.
Nice. Very nice.
Later we took dinner at a new hipster Taco joint in an old city neighborhood , with a southwest ambiance that will be the closest thing to our mountain hideaway we will see this month. We had hoped J could join us, but he got sucked into helping his parents move this weekend. But that did get us into some "cuckold / threeway" protocol issues.
"J says he let slip to his Mom that he's seeing "someone", and now his Mom says he should bring that "someone" over to meet them, Slave...."
Dinner with the boyfriend's parents? Now that would be interesting.
"That's OK by me, Mistress....."
"The problem is, how to explain all this.... he says they are pretty conservative and might not get the 'she's married but it's ok with her husband' thing....."
"Ahhhh..... that could be a little dicey....."
"J says his Mom would immediately start asking all sorts of questions.... and it is a small town....."
Yes, it is. Too many connections that cam easily be made. As our kids would say.... "awkward."
Somehow J will have to finesse this for a while with Mom and Dad. Do any of our readers have any tips on how to deal with this delicate issue of social protocol? Is there a potential kinky version of "Meet the Parents" in all this?
Should I send a letter to Dear Abby? Or Miss Manners?
Saturday, August 11, 2012
Football Widow?
In the meanwhile, Mistress was spending the evening with her Lover, J. Plans for a bike ride gave way to an evening at a local bar, where apparently a woman who proclaimed she was "straight" was fawning over Mistress.
"Was she pining for a three way, Mistress?"
"That's what J said, Slave .... but we didn't take her up on it...."
No, instead it seemed they headed home for enough sexual action that Mistress came home with a sore back.
Poor Mistress.
In any event, it seemed that J was a little regretful he didn't join us at the football game.
"He sort of asked if he could join you for some games later this season, Slave.... "
But what will Mistress do on Sundays this season if both of her "penii" are at the Stadium rather than in bed with her?
I had an idea.
"I suppose you could go back to Ashley Madison with a new posting....something like "Domme available Sunday afternoons during NFL season".... I suspect you might draw some attention...."
"I think for now the two of you will keep me satisfied Slave....but don't press your luck."
Friday, August 10, 2012
Dad Behaving Badly
It was lovely to have Mistress back in the UCTMW executive suite last night after her Wednesday night sleepover with J. After one of those night's apart it seems like a little "re-union" when we settle back in bed together.
In the morning, I had woken early, went for a bike ride and texted her at around 7:45 am to "report in" before jumping into the shower. By the time I popped out of the shower she had responded.
"Engaged, Slave..... will call you later."
I suppressed my impulse to be a wise ass, and respond "But you're already married!", knowing exactly the sort of "engagement" that had her preoccupied. Instead I organized myself for the work day, and we talked on my way to work.
As might be expected, Mistress was a little tired by late afternoon, and the nice weather tempted both of us to leave our offices a little early. I stopped at our local green market to collect fixings for some mushroom risotto to accommodate our sullen teen, who announced upon her return from Europe that she is now a vegetarian. It's not easy to find meals that appeal to all of us here when meat is off the table, but it's the thing you do when you try to be a "good Dad", isn't it.
At home, we were quickly off for a bike ride, racing looming thunderheads. Then back at home, Slave had his first opportunity in more than a day to settle between Mistress's firm thighs for a little pre-dinner delight, an "amuse boche" before the main course.
"Am I a little gamey, Slave?"
After all we had just gotten back from a hot and humid bike ride.
"That's just the way I like you, Mistress...."
After she had been suitably "amused", Slave's plan was to whip up the risotto.
I announced to our picky daughter what I had planned to accommodate her diet and was immediately reprimanded.
"remember, no chicken broth....."
SHIT. I hadn't considered the broth when I did my meal planning.
"But when your older sister decided she was a vegetarian even she didn't mind chicken broth in the risotto."
"I'm a vegetarian, Dad.... no chicken broth...."
(This said with the tone of Mitt Romney talking to his Mexican yard guy about poorly trimmed hedges, just before firing him).
At that she announced that she would just go out to dinner (on our tab of course), rather than succumb to my suggestion that maybe she run off to the grocery - where I had just been - to get some f***ing vegetarian broth.
As you might suspect, Slave was just a tad "cross" over this, grabbing my car keys and running this wonderful errand myself. Mistress called me at the grocery, curious about what had happened to her Slave.
Had I hooked up with the Underground Railroad, and was headed to Canada. (No Sin, maybe next time).
There's nothing worse than allowing your entitled teenaged daughter drive you into a hissy fit.
In any event, the broth was retrieved and the little journey gave me time to cool my temper.
Obviously, it's time for the nest to be emptied for more than a weekend or a night, isn't it?
So I will leave you with the following video suggesting what might happen here soon if we don't watch out:
Ikeas Commercial
In the morning, I had woken early, went for a bike ride and texted her at around 7:45 am to "report in" before jumping into the shower. By the time I popped out of the shower she had responded.
"Engaged, Slave..... will call you later."
I suppressed my impulse to be a wise ass, and respond "But you're already married!", knowing exactly the sort of "engagement" that had her preoccupied. Instead I organized myself for the work day, and we talked on my way to work.
As might be expected, Mistress was a little tired by late afternoon, and the nice weather tempted both of us to leave our offices a little early. I stopped at our local green market to collect fixings for some mushroom risotto to accommodate our sullen teen, who announced upon her return from Europe that she is now a vegetarian. It's not easy to find meals that appeal to all of us here when meat is off the table, but it's the thing you do when you try to be a "good Dad", isn't it.
At home, we were quickly off for a bike ride, racing looming thunderheads. Then back at home, Slave had his first opportunity in more than a day to settle between Mistress's firm thighs for a little pre-dinner delight, an "amuse boche" before the main course.
"Am I a little gamey, Slave?"
After all we had just gotten back from a hot and humid bike ride.
"That's just the way I like you, Mistress...."
After she had been suitably "amused", Slave's plan was to whip up the risotto.
I announced to our picky daughter what I had planned to accommodate her diet and was immediately reprimanded.
"remember, no chicken broth....."
SHIT. I hadn't considered the broth when I did my meal planning.
"But when your older sister decided she was a vegetarian even she didn't mind chicken broth in the risotto."
"I'm a vegetarian, Dad.... no chicken broth...."
(This said with the tone of Mitt Romney talking to his Mexican yard guy about poorly trimmed hedges, just before firing him).
At that she announced that she would just go out to dinner (on our tab of course), rather than succumb to my suggestion that maybe she run off to the grocery - where I had just been - to get some f***ing vegetarian broth.
As you might suspect, Slave was just a tad "cross" over this, grabbing my car keys and running this wonderful errand myself. Mistress called me at the grocery, curious about what had happened to her Slave.
Had I hooked up with the Underground Railroad, and was headed to Canada. (No Sin, maybe next time).
There's nothing worse than allowing your entitled teenaged daughter drive you into a hissy fit.
In any event, the broth was retrieved and the little journey gave me time to cool my temper.
Obviously, it's time for the nest to be emptied for more than a weekend or a night, isn't it?
So I will leave you with the following video suggesting what might happen here soon if we don't watch out:
Ikeas Commercial
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Torn From Today's Headlines
Let's hope she gets some sleep.
And while Slave got some nice, gratifying wake up sex this morning, the no touch rule remains in effect until we get back together here at the UCTMW World HQ Thursday after work. (I'm already hearing the whining from Suzanne about the absence of a cage, but I think Mistress was feeling a little guilty about abandoning me to dinner with my mother and our girls this evening, and was overly indulgent.)
So I'm left with sharing a few choice media items I've been saving for you this week.
The first one was something Mistress and Slave noticed on the way to work the other day, as we passed by the local convention venue.
"Uhhh... does it seem that the slutty clothing quotient is a little high this morning, Mistress?"
I was referring to large clots of foxily dressed women - tarty dresses and skirts and fuck me pumps - lining the sidewalk. More like Friday night than Thursday morning, 8:30 am attire.
"Yeah.... very strange, I wonder what the attraction is Slave?"
We figured out out Saturday morning from this article in the New York Times, profiling the convention of a local company's sales force, that peddle sex toys in a tupperware style house party format. Ladies rode charter buses from as far away as Bismarck, N.D. to attend seminars of the type where the rhetorical question was "if your man's penis could talk, what would it say?" (Somehow I doubt the answer was 'let me out of this fucking cage!", but who knows?).I do note that sales for this enterprise have gotten a boost from a "Shades of Grey" line, including floggers, nipple clamps and bondage swings. More mainstreaming of what used to me kinky.
Then yesterday there was another article article about a marketing campaign from the Trojan condom makers that will be distributing thousands of their new vibrators in the Big Apple this week via little street vendor carts. Rather than a kosher Wiener (errr... weener) for your squeeze, you can get her something in the same shape, battery powered, but without the protein.
As I was looking for illustrations, I found an update that shows the marketing campaign got off to a shaky start. Despite long lines looking for some cheap thrills, the cops shut down one of the carts because of a "permit issue".
But regardless, even if the Slave is shut out here at home tonight, it's nice to think that all those lucky ladies in NYC could go home tonight and try out their new toys.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Our Two-fer Tuesday
With kids at home and Mistress's job getting a little out of whack, I think we've let down those of you who see Mick and Molly as role models for profligate sex. No, we may not have the "marathon" sessions here at the UCTMW World HQ that occur over at J's "Love Shack". But in the past we have been none for our training camp two a day regime. Not so much these last few weeks though.
But for those of you concerned that old Mick may be sliding down hill, yesterday was a lovely example that I'm not quite on the far side yet.
Of course, there was the 6:30 am wake up booty call, before we climbed on our bikes for a cool morning ride on our neighborhood hills.
But then we had a little surprise last evening.
We arrived home planning on some quick worship, and then making dinner for our girls.
But SURPRISE: they had actually organized themselves into a trip to the movies with another friend.
Can you see our sad look of disappointment when we learned the little "divas in training" had decided to forsake their parents' company for an evening out?
We tried to hide our glee until they left, then settled into a perfect evening at home in our temporarily evacuated nest: I worked Mistress's clean shaven folds with my lips and tongue until she came with a moan and shudder of delight. Then she turned her attention to my cock, teasing and taunting it with her skilled mouth until she had me begging for the privilege to fuck her.
Fortunately, she was indulgent.
After that, a short nap, and the dinner we had planned, but just for the two of us, watching some escapist TV: Political Animals . Hardly Pulitizer material. More low brow Aaron Spelling material for political junkies. But plenty of guitly pleasure fun to watch in a post sexual buzz.
It was a nice, "night off" for Mistress and Slave, showing the potential for getting back into a more robust sexual groove once we have the UCTMW World HQ back to ourselves in a few short weeks.
It's also good Slave got his quota in yesterday because tonight Mistress will be spending the evening with her Lover over at his "love shack" while I take on the grim but obligatory task of taking my mother to dinner so she can see her two granddaughters.
"Is it bad that I'm abandoning you guys with only a two weeks to go before they leave Slave."
"No Mistress .... it makes good sense. You've paid your dues big time. Do you think J would mind if I tagged along...."
But for those of you concerned that old Mick may be sliding down hill, yesterday was a lovely example that I'm not quite on the far side yet.
Of course, there was the 6:30 am wake up booty call, before we climbed on our bikes for a cool morning ride on our neighborhood hills.
But then we had a little surprise last evening.
We arrived home planning on some quick worship, and then making dinner for our girls.
But SURPRISE: they had actually organized themselves into a trip to the movies with another friend.
Can you see our sad look of disappointment when we learned the little "divas in training" had decided to forsake their parents' company for an evening out?
We tried to hide our glee until they left, then settled into a perfect evening at home in our temporarily evacuated nest: I worked Mistress's clean shaven folds with my lips and tongue until she came with a moan and shudder of delight. Then she turned her attention to my cock, teasing and taunting it with her skilled mouth until she had me begging for the privilege to fuck her.
Fortunately, she was indulgent.
After that, a short nap, and the dinner we had planned, but just for the two of us, watching some escapist TV: Political Animals . Hardly Pulitizer material. More low brow Aaron Spelling material for political junkies. But plenty of guitly pleasure fun to watch in a post sexual buzz.
It was a nice, "night off" for Mistress and Slave, showing the potential for getting back into a more robust sexual groove once we have the UCTMW World HQ back to ourselves in a few short weeks.
It's also good Slave got his quota in yesterday because tonight Mistress will be spending the evening with her Lover over at his "love shack" while I take on the grim but obligatory task of taking my mother to dinner so she can see her two granddaughters.
"Is it bad that I'm abandoning you guys with only a two weeks to go before they leave Slave."
"No Mistress .... it makes good sense. You've paid your dues big time. Do you think J would mind if I tagged along...."
Monday, August 6, 2012
Cross Examination
The sad part is that I did have some "action" to report on.
I used my switch privileges to full advantage to "cross examine" Mistress about her adventures with her lover on Saturday over at the "love nest".
First she was tied to the bed, tummy down. arms spread wide in her red leather cuffs.
I applied some firm spanks to her ass, between some clever questioning techniques to get to the bottom of all the sucking, fucking and fondling that went on over there after their bike ride.
There was a shared shower -- Mistress no doubt having various body parts fondled by her lover.
Then a hour of cock riding, cunt licking, cock sucking and other activities that Mistress describes as "very athletic". J seems to enjoy the stand at the side of the bed and thrust aggressively stance, which no doubt sends Mistress into a frenzy.
It's nice that she has lovers with different styles of love making, don;t you think.
And once I got the full tawdry story, I figured she deserved a reward for her candor.
The trusty power tool - our Hitachi Magic Wand - was within reach, under our bed. So it was easy enough to thumb it on and slide it under her luscious ass.
It's always amusing to watch Mistress squirm and writhe against that churning buld, building herself up to a frenzy where there is no turning back.
"Remember, Mistress... you need to ask permission...."
I think I surprised her, because she was oh so close.
"Can I come, Slave?"
"Not yet, Mistess...."
This was, obviously, a surprise.
"What do you mean....."
The oozing frustration in her tone was .... amusing.
"Just hold on a little longer, Mistress..... I bet you can."
There was a little moan of frustration. Her hips slowed a bit in their dance with the power tool. But not for long.
"Now can I come Slave.....?"
"Not yet, love...."
Another frustrated moan. So Slave got indulgent.
"Ok, Mistress.... gor for it...."
And she did.... cycling through one cum, backing off a bit, and then going off big time with another one. It was only after the "after shocks" rattled through her that she was begging me to turn the tool off.
Poor Mistress.... sexual overload.
Rest assured, before we were done, Slave made sure he took his own pleasure from his Mistress too.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Mistress's Very Busy Saturday
The schedule I discussed here yesterday was altered slightly. I went upstairs to wake Mistress at around 7:30 am, anticipating she would be off to J's by 8 am for their date of "Bike Riding +". I presumed that Slave would have to wait for his own sexual bonanza until later.
But I got a pleasant surprise.
"J texted to suggest I not get there until nine, Slave.... it's your lucky day."
Meaning there was time for Slave to get some action here in the Executive Suite before Mistress headed off to the "love shack" for some time with her lover.
"Everyday is my lucky day when you're around, Mistress."
Rest assured that I took full advantage of my opportunity. So if anyone got "sloppy seconds" yesterday, it was J!
Soon Mistress was off, and I had a full morning planned too, entertaining my grandsons with a swim at a friend's pool.
At some point Mistress texted me with updates. A certain amount of lollagaging was unfolding it seemed. A flat tire to repair. Breakfast. yadda yadda. My theory is that J likes having Mistress around so he tends to procrastinate a bit, extending their time together. And who can blame him? What are Saturdays for?
At some point Mistress texted that she'd be back by 3 or so. I was heading home myself, after visiting my cranky mother. I had a feeling they had transitioned by now to the "good part".
Sure enough, a little after 3 pm, Mistress staggered home. She had been "rode hard" both on the bike and otherwise. And while Slave had the opportunity to worship her fragrant and well exercised folds, it was clear that Mistress needed a little rest.
"My parts are pretty tired, Slave.... hope you don't mind....."
"Of course not, Mistress."
I suspect I can extract a more complete de-briefing later this morning. It is Switch Day after all.
But I got a pleasant surprise.
"J texted to suggest I not get there until nine, Slave.... it's your lucky day."
Meaning there was time for Slave to get some action here in the Executive Suite before Mistress headed off to the "love shack" for some time with her lover.
"Everyday is my lucky day when you're around, Mistress."
Rest assured that I took full advantage of my opportunity. So if anyone got "sloppy seconds" yesterday, it was J!
Soon Mistress was off, and I had a full morning planned too, entertaining my grandsons with a swim at a friend's pool.
At some point Mistress texted me with updates. A certain amount of lollagaging was unfolding it seemed. A flat tire to repair. Breakfast. yadda yadda. My theory is that J likes having Mistress around so he tends to procrastinate a bit, extending their time together. And who can blame him? What are Saturdays for?
At some point Mistress texted that she'd be back by 3 or so. I was heading home myself, after visiting my cranky mother. I had a feeling they had transitioned by now to the "good part".
Sure enough, a little after 3 pm, Mistress staggered home. She had been "rode hard" both on the bike and otherwise. And while Slave had the opportunity to worship her fragrant and well exercised folds, it was clear that Mistress needed a little rest.
"My parts are pretty tired, Slave.... hope you don't mind....."
"Of course not, Mistress."
I suspect I can extract a more complete de-briefing later this morning. It is Switch Day after all.
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Friday Night at the Movies
There was the usual whining about there being nothing suitable to eat in our wretched home (she should have seen the yurt!) for her delicate vegetarian sensibilities, but we noted that we had just visited the local market and picked up some fresh fruit, veggies, cheeses and bread.
She seemed to survive this harrowing abandonment for the evening.
Meantime, Mistress and Slave went about their business, doing our best not to feel too guilty.
Slave fell to his knees for some pre-bike ride worship, salving Mistress's clean shaven folds with my devoted lips and tongue.
Then a pre-dusk ride in the sultry summer heat.
After the ride, a cooling shower together, which led to some earnest fucking once we were dry and back to our bed.
A short nap.
It's a clever, funny, pretty film, set in Toronto, a place I've only been once. It made me want to visit again, to check out the funky neigborhoods and beach scene it portrays. (Though I also tend to think of Toronto as the place where James Earle Ray hing out after killing MLK.)
And it has a quirky plot about a 20 something wife who falls hard in lust for the hot guy across the street and struggles with the dueling compulsions of her "plight". You wanted to shake her and say, "honey, just ask your husband for permission.... he might actually like it!"
Speaking of which..... Mistress has an early morning "appointment" today, over at J's "love shack". A long bike ride followed by some time in the sack, no doubt. Slave will be busy entertaining my grandsons and visiting my grumpy mother.
With this early curtain call, Slave may not get his usual Saturday AM "wake up" sex.... Maybe I'll have to settle for "sloppy seconds" this afternoon?
Finally, in the spirit of potential cuckolds gone awry, fellow blogger Harry Haversackers passed on the following cautionary tale from the Canadian Press. Here's the link . So one more thing to put on the DON'T list:
Don't send naked photos of your wife, who happens to be a Judge, to a former client in hopes he might want to have sex with her! He just might report you to the Bar Association. Or try to blackmail you!
Thanks for the tip, Harry!
Friday, August 3, 2012
Biding Our Time
We've got two daughters at home with too much time on their hands. The projects and jobs that the cute Co-Ed started the summer with are spent and she does not go back for another two weeks.
The one who came back from Europe did not make plans herself, apparently on the theory that it was only a month before she left herself for College.
So here they are: loitering at the UCTMW World HQ, generating laundry and dirty dishes, and cramping their parents more exotic sexual stylings.
I'm sure it makes for a rather tedious "sex blog". Could UCTMW survive as a negligent parenting blog, or via low brow political commentary and movie critiques?
Moroni Forbid? (oops. see, now I'm lowering myself to Mormon jokes.)
Rest assured, Slave is still making sure I worship Mistress at the end of our work day. And there has been daily wake up sex here in the executive suite. But we haven't had a decent orgy, or a sleepover by Mistress's lover in weeks now.
She is going to drop by his house on Saturday morning.
"I figure a bike ride followed by sex Slave.... then home by around 2? Will that work for you?"
"No problem, Mistress."
She deserves a little "vacation" from her work and mommy roles, don't you think?
Speaking of work, Slave has handled some strange sex harassment cases over the years in my work role. Some have been very conventional: the dentist who can't take no for an answer from his hygenist. Others more exotic: the gay guy who's convinced that folks are discriminating against him, but then ends up with porn on his office computer.
But this week there was one I heard about that is sex blogable: the guy who gets fired for soliciting a co-worker to have sex with him AND his wife. The husband and wife worked together. And there was a collection of other "young things" (female variety) around the office. Sounds as if the wife would let the husband know which of the young things she would find appealing, then it was his job to see if there was any interest in a threesome.
Apparently some women who received the query were offended and reported the solicitation. So the husband was fired, but the wife kept her job.
Now that's what I would call "taking it for the team."
But it also turns out that other women in the office were offended because HE NEVER INVITED THEM TO PLAY.
What, are we chopped liver?
You just can't win.
The lesson here is that when you are looking for a third or fourth, don't do it at the office.
Now that I'm thinking about it, maybe my office needs to watch out.
Yesterday as I wandered through the lobby, where a big screen TV mounted on the wall is usually turned to CNN, there were images of women in bikinis frolicking in some sand, swatting a ball back and forth, and frequently embracing one another. As the Mayor of London described the scene, they were like "glistening seals", but with nice curves and tans.
Presumably one of our female employees could accuse us of creating a hostile work environment with these images of cavorting semi-naked women on full display in the work place.Drat. It was just the endless Olympics.
Why don't table tennis players wear bikinis?
Thursday, August 2, 2012
HNT / Evening Out for Mistress
It was before our Contract was drafted and executed, but while we were beginning to dabble in Mistress's dominant side. If I recall this evening correctly, Mistress deployed her riding crop before I was allowed to partake of the delights hidden beneath those fetching stockings.
Mistress doesn't wear hose or stockings this time of year, but her legs look every bit as good in her slightly short dresses this summer.
Yesterday we drove together, but on the way home it was my job to drop her off at her Lover J's house before I met the sullen teen and cute co-ed at the movies. It was my way to entertain them, while Mistress got in a little mid-week entertainment. I stepped into the house for a little chat before heading out. It's certainly cute to watch the two of them flirt and tease one another even while I'm standing there as the devoted Slave / Cuckold. But after a few minutes I figured that I should move on and let them have a little more privacy for their fun.
The movie the teens picked was "The Watch", the gross-out comedy with Vince Vaughn and Ben Stiller about a goof ball neighborhood watch committee taking on the spawn from the Alien movies. If you've seen the trailer you've seen all the funny parts, so don't bother. It's a lamer version of Wedding Crashers with more gore, fewer laughs and no kinky bondage scene. And there is something excruciating about watching a movie obsessed with various ways to describe a penis and the product of ejaculation when your two daughters are sitting next to you.
Yuck.
Mistress got dropped off by J not long after I got home with the girls. Her "cover story" for the girls was dinner with some clients. She seemed a little tired when she slid into bed next to me, but allowed me to sample her clean shaven folds before we drifted off.
It was good to have her back, her soft skin there to fold against into the night after a busy day for both of us.
Now it's time for Slave to creep upstairs for a little wake-up sex with my Mistress.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Kiss My Ass?
I will digress from our usual home grown smut for some probably unwelcome commentary ripped from yesterday's headlines.
Those of you not laser like focused on sex blogs and the potential for self-abuse they present may have noticed a kerfuffle yesterday in the media about a press secretary named Gorka who told representatives of the press that they could "kiss his ass" when they complained about their inability to pose questions to a certain Presidential candidate who has been on a European Holiday over this last week, attempting to impress the world with his diplomatic skills. If you missed the story there is a video link to it here.
Now some of the media coverage went full bore apoplectic. In fact it was the first time I'd ever heard the stuffy reporters at NPR actually use the phrase "kiss my ass." The television networks tended to bleep out the actual words, while showing them in writing in a crawl at the base of the screen.
Apparently the conventional view of this "incident" was that this Gorka guy (doesn't he sound like a scary monster in an old Japanese horror flick?) was trying to taunt or insult the uppity reporters from the New York Times and the like who presumed they had some role on this adventure other than taking snap shots of the heroic candidate laying wreathes and engaging in small talk with dignitaries.
But I insist on another take. Followers of our pals over at All Mine know that some tale great pleasure in having their asses licked, kissed, fondled and even invaded by slender foreign objects.
And it seems that Tammy enjoys doing the licking, kissing and fondling, for what sounds like hours on end. If Suzanne has just come back from a workout at the gym, all the better.
So maybe Mr. Gorka was simply talking up some potential recreational activity to engage in with the press -- sort of a team building exercise - on that long flight home from Warsaw to Boston.
Just trying to think positive here, my friends.
Those of you not laser like focused on sex blogs and the potential for self-abuse they present may have noticed a kerfuffle yesterday in the media about a press secretary named Gorka who told representatives of the press that they could "kiss his ass" when they complained about their inability to pose questions to a certain Presidential candidate who has been on a European Holiday over this last week, attempting to impress the world with his diplomatic skills. If you missed the story there is a video link to it here.
Now some of the media coverage went full bore apoplectic. In fact it was the first time I'd ever heard the stuffy reporters at NPR actually use the phrase "kiss my ass." The television networks tended to bleep out the actual words, while showing them in writing in a crawl at the base of the screen.
Apparently the conventional view of this "incident" was that this Gorka guy (doesn't he sound like a scary monster in an old Japanese horror flick?) was trying to taunt or insult the uppity reporters from the New York Times and the like who presumed they had some role on this adventure other than taking snap shots of the heroic candidate laying wreathes and engaging in small talk with dignitaries.
But I insist on another take. Followers of our pals over at All Mine know that some tale great pleasure in having their asses licked, kissed, fondled and even invaded by slender foreign objects.
And it seems that Tammy enjoys doing the licking, kissing and fondling, for what sounds like hours on end. If Suzanne has just come back from a workout at the gym, all the better.
So maybe Mr. Gorka was simply talking up some potential recreational activity to engage in with the press -- sort of a team building exercise - on that long flight home from Warsaw to Boston.
Just trying to think positive here, my friends.
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