Pent Up Demand

Mistress and Slave missed their Monday morning wake-up sex because we had to drive our cute Co-Ed to the airport early yesterday morning.

That can put us into a cranky mood. On the drive back to our hideaway, Mistress pointed out how much she was hoping our other house guests would be off the premises when we got home, so there would be no need to stifle her expressions of passion.

"I'm looking forward to some walking around the house naked, ride your cock action, Slave".

But what were the chances?

When we got home my other daughter and the son-in-law were all curled up on the couch, fire blazing, working on their computers. Despite the blazing sunshine, and my offer of the car keys in case they wanted to visit a local museum or gallery, they were settled in and inclined to go no where fast. They were camped out only about 8 feet from our bedroom wall.

What to do?

Mistress took her laptop out onto the patio, and I joined her for a while, catching up to some work emails.

But the sexual tension could no be denied much longer.

By about 4 pm we announced we were "taking a nap". And to dampen any ambient noise, we turned a CD on in our bedroom. Hopefully the mellow folkie notes covered up the sounds of our fucking.

After I worshiped away for a few Mistress cums, she gave me the long awaited permission to fuck her.

"Wow. Slave. That's a very hard cock!"

"What did you expect, Mistress.... it's been almost 36 hours!"

Mistress and Slave Undercover(s)

Here's the view from our backyard, on the edge of the Sangre de Christo Mountains.

We've been enjoying the sun, snow and family time these last few days. But since our little hideaway is a compact affair, Mistress and slave have had to squelch our more robust sexual activities, due to the close proximity of two daughters and one son-in-law.
Yesterday morning, as I slid out of bed to fix coffee for Mistress and myself, I discovered the son-in-law not far from the other side of our bedroom wall, reading a book by the fire in our "living room". So when I went back into bed with Mistress, we had the choice of either having our wake up sex with the radio on, or trying to stifle our natural enthusiasms and engage in stealth fucking.

The radio was the first option. But somehow doing it to the Grateful Dead and a 10 minute version of "Trucking" was not working for me. (I suppose Dark Star would have been more mood enhancing, but I didn't want to take the time to phone in the request).  So we kept things on the QT, Mistress whispering that she'd better not ride my cock because she gets too noisy when that happens.

So, we're enjoying the holidays, but also looking forward to the de-infestation of our cozy nest later in the week.

Hope all of you are enjoying your holidays too!

MIstress Closes in on Her Mountain Man

We had a very lovely Christmas here at our SW hideaway, with our two daughters and one son-in-law cluttering up the nest.  On Christmas Eve, we all headed out to the nearby Pueblo, for their annual ritual, that has been going on in its basic form for centuries, complete with blazing bonfires, costumed dancers and an amazing sunset. And frybread too.

After that, we had some friends over to share Mistress's mystical chili. On Christmas day, after the presents were opened (and after our wake-up sex), we headed up to the ski mountain to get in some turns under the cloudless blue sky before the holiday tourist rush arrives in earnest.

It was up there that Mistress finally got some in person charm from her "dream date", the local ski patrol guy who in his spare time has climbed Mt. Everest more than any other American. Mistress face book friended MM last spring, after we saw him give a slide show lecture on his adventures. So she's been cyber stalking him for nearly a year as he has gone from Everest to Kilimanjaro to Rainier these last few months. She knew that he was headed back from guiding a group in Antarctica this week, and shared a few conversations with him on facebook about when he'd be back on "our" mountain.

He even told her to "slap him up side the head" on the mountain (i.e. say hello) so he could meet her in person.  So it came as no surprise that Mistress and our daughter decided it would be nice to drop by the ski patrol hut at the top of the highest lift to "visit the rescue dogs".

Some pretext.

Sure enough, just as the two ladies stepped inside, Mistress found her MM, with the easy grin and smooth lines about dodging K-2 because in that part of the Himalayas the mountains are "too pointy and the drone strikes in Pakistan a little too close for comfort."

Fortunately, Mistress kept herself in relative check during their conversation, probably because our daughter was standing there. I even snapped a photo of the three of them, giving Mistress a chance for further facebook chat last night as she shared the photo with her MM and asked permission to post it. (Not on her sexblog, just on more conventional social media).

So it's fair to say that Mistress got a very nice Christmas gift in the fantasy fulfillment category.

We'll see if she can close the net a little further when we are back here solo next year!

Happy Holidays from Molly and Mick

Molly and Mick are enjoying the holidays here at our SW hideaway with two of four daughters and one son in law. It's a little more crowded than we typically like, but the holidays are for family right?  We do enjoy hearing the holiday tunes on our local radio station, including this one. It made us think of Tammy, Suzanne and her family in their family gathering.

Does Tammy still get to wear his more lacey undergarments with all that family around. And does Sherry get a fashion show when the other "in the dark" family members aren't looking?

Merry Christmas to all!

Banking Sex for the Holidays

Mistress and Slave made it safely to our SW hideaway just before sunset on Saturday evening. And with a houseful of daughters and a son in law jetting this way, we've had to take our sexual opportunities while we have them.

We had some hot and juicy sex in a Holiday Inn in Abilene KS Friday night, foregoing a dinner of fried chicken and blueberry pie at the family style restaurant next door, for a dip in the hot tub and some cock riding by mistress in our King Size bed. Somehow having torrid zex in Kansas seems all the hotter. I think Ike and Mamie would have blushed.

Then, on Saturday evening, we unpacked our provisions and headed to bed before heading out for dinner. But Mistress had a surprise:

"Go get the riding crop, Slave...."

I wasn't sure what had provoked Mistress's "wrath", but I knew not to ask that question.

Sure enough, Slave was on the receiving end of about ten sharp slashes with the leather crop tucked away in the closet for such occasions.

Afterwards, Mistress directed me to insert my "device" (the aneros), presumably because she was concerned that that long drive might make her work-a-day cock a little lacidasical. It turned out not to be something for her to be too concerned about.

This morning, before we headed up the ski mountain to take some turns on the bright sun, I "tortured" Mistress a bit with her favorite power tool.

Then, this afternoon, after enjoying some cold sunshine on the slopes, we did it all over again after a short nap at sunset.

But our privacy comes to an abrupt end late tonight when family invades the empty nest.

While there should be some opportunities for private time, my guess is Mistress will have to keep that crop parked for the next week or so..

Mistress Sets off Sex Tornado

Mistress and Slave are heading across Illinois now, bound for our SW hideaway. It's a two day trip, and we started early this morning. I took the first shift and Mistress is now behind the wheel. We have our mobile wifi humming and are hell bent for the Mississippi and beyond.

But the topic of today's blog is not the vast flatlands before we hit the front range tomorrow, but Mistress's afternoon delight yesterday as slave was putting in his last work day before the end of the year.

She and Jay had planned lunch, and I figured that's when Mistress would get her sexual appetites more completely satisfied for the day. But then she reported that their lunch date fell through because of a meeting Jay had to take. She seemed a little disappointed, stuck with only her work-a-day cock  through the holidays. The last thing I heard was that she was heading to a hair appointment, and I was going to pay my respects to my cranky, aging Mom before hitting the road.

At some point, as I was trying to furtively dispose of my mother's accumulated collection of old newspapers while she was otherwise engaged, I got a call from Mistress.

"Well Slave.... in case you are interested, I stopped by Jay's house after my hair appointment, and well.... let's just say Jay decribed it as a sex tornado."

Well, I was a little distracted by that, but my mother was shuffling back into the room, so I had to put that thought on hold, at least until I got home around 8:00 pm last night for a more complete debriefing.

"I was just planning to stop by to say good bye before we left.... but then, things got a little hot and heavy, Slave."

"I am not surprised, Mistress...."

"Jay seems to think you can't have sex unless you take about 2 hours, Slave..... but I've been trying to explain to him you can be a little more efficient than that...."

"We have perfected the art of the quickie, Mistress...."

Actually, you have to when you're dealing with kids and jobs and still want to have sex.... a lot of sex.

"So when he said he'd like to have sex, but there wasn't enough time until his son came home, I suggested we try something more expedited...."

"And how did that turn out, Mistress?"

"It was intense, Slave.... we did it all sorts of ways, standing, on the bed, him taking me from behind....and all in about 20 minutes...."

Bummer there was no videographer to take it all in for a slow mo replay.

Later, as Slave did some packing, Jay called Mistress for a little instant replay. She tastefully slipped out of the room to take his call in a little more privacy, but one could tell they were both reliving the highlights.

ANd later, as Slave did some post tornado worship, Mistress summed up Jay's reaction to her prescription for a more expedited encounter.

"He said it was epic....like he was in a zone, Slave.... comparing it to a day when he had about 6 birdies in a row on the gold course...."

I suppose that's a fitting comparison,  if you go for sports analogies. But I kind of liked the meteorological analogy myself.

One Reason to Welcome Cold Weather....

Mistress and slave are down to less than 24 hours before beginning our great end of year escape to our SW hideaway. We've been cramming lots of work and family activities into these last few days, almost at an exhausting pace.

On Tuesday and Wednesday, Mistress was locked up in some marathon meetings with a client, involving not only her Grand Dommish Mother but also that neighbor we've written about from time to time, who "discovered" that a certain sex blog he had been reading was authored by some sexually overactive suburban neighbors down the street.

Mistress and he must have had a little time for a private chat during these meetings....

"He says he's still reading the blog, Slave....."

Let's hope he's still enjoying our relatively mundane adventures.

And while its been unseasonably cold in River City over the last two weeks, there is one advantage:

Mistress had been in her sexyt tights and boots when dressed up for work, which always presses slave's buttons..

"An older black minister at my meeting came up to me and said I look like Bett Midler, Slave...."

"Is that a good thing?"

"That's what I asked him..... he said he always thought Bett Midler was hot...."

Well I said he was older, but I suppose it's good to know that "men of the cloth" find Mistress as appealing as I do.

In any event, Mistress did stop by the office late yesterday afternoon before we headed to yet another holiday reception. And after a long day of "brain storming", it was only natural that she would want some relaxation therapy.

In fact, it seemed to be the first thing on her mind when she stepped into my office.

Of course, I was happy to accommodate, sliding the chair against the door, and laying that absorbent blanket on the seat. She quickly wriggled one leg out of boot and tights and panties, giving her kneeling slave an all access pass to those immaculately clean shaven folds. And nibbling and sucking away for a  few minutes until she had her little late afternoon cum was realizing for me too, getting my mind off of some tedious document review I had been buried in for a few hours.

When the juices settled Mistress reassembled her wardrobe and I slid the chair back where it belonged, only to discover that my assistant had slid two letters I had dictated under my door while we were otherwise engaged.

Let's hope she was not listening too hard when she discovered her boss's door was inexplicably closed. And her discretion in not knocking makes me inclined to enhance her Christmas bonus.

Does Sex Make You Prettier?

How Having Sex Makes You Prettier

In lieu of actually blogging, I thought I would toss this out there: an article I noticed that describes how lots of sex can enhance one's outer attractiveness. And all of this seems to apply to my beloved Mistress, who is, even as I type, getting a nice beauty rest, though I am not sure whether her ability to sleep long and hard most nights has anything to do with the worship she received last evening in the executive suite here at UCTMW World HQ.

But how does this apply to guys, one has to wonder?
Well, it hasn't given me long and bushy hair. Slave's lid is increasingly sparse these days, which seems something that is inherited rather than keyed to my sex life.

But I do think I look relatively spry for a guy who just turned 63 otherwise. I am truly a pampered house Slave.

But how does this theory of sex related youthful appearance apply to you poor guys who's Mistresses subscribe to long periods of abstinence, maybe cock cage enforced?

Do you start to develop premature lines? Droopy skin? Hair loss? premature dementia?

Maybe someone needs to do a study.

Yuletide Blitzkrieg

Things have been quiet on these pages over the last few days because Mistress and Slave have been too harried to engage in much more than maintenance sex..... Slave even had an unscheduled abstinence day on Monday, what between Mistress having to wake up early for one of those crazy 8 am meetings that only old guys with no sex life schedule, and a busy daytime and evening schedule that got us home later than normal.

I suppose we were a little overoptimistic when we decided to take that long weekend at our SW hideaway, and then plan to head back there for the holidays  this coming Friday. That left us with about 11 days to finish up our year's work and cram in all those familial and social holiday rituals that are the cost of doing business for children, parents, grandparents, friends, etc. Over the weekend alone our older cute Co-Ed passed through the house before heading off for a holiday with a friend and her family to the South, and my daughter and cute grandsons came over for dinner and an early Christmas celebration.

So it seems like since last Tuesday we've been on an endless cycle of present wrapping, dinners, lunches, and work related meetings that won't end.

Yikes.

Luckily, Mistress was able to stop by my office yesterday afternoon, after she joined a luncheon I have each year for some of my long suffering clients. There was even time for her to wriggle one leg out of her black boots and tights so I could perform a bit of mid-afternoon worship, the door closed to my potentially nosy colleagues bustling up and down the hallway. With my head pressed between those firm thighs, it seemed to be the first moment of the day Slave could relax and contemplate what makes life special, rather than just hectic and crazy.

And as she sat in my office working on her computer as I caught up on some emails between social engagements, she also checked in with Jay. It seems they have a final "lunch" scheduled Thursday before we hit the road for our year end trip to the SW. 

I'm sure Jay will appreciate an appropriate holiday celebration with Mistress too.

Slave Put on Hold

Mistress and Slave did finally make it home after a long travel day on Monday, finally hitting the pillows back at the UCTMW World HQ at around 2 am on Tuesday morning.

So it should be no surprise that when Slave struggled out of bed to get to work a few short hours later, wake-up sex was not the first order of business. I figured I would let Mistress sleep in. And by the end of a long work day on Tuesday, the energy level was also a little low, though no so low that I forgot to worship Mistress's freshly shaven folds.  At least she deserved some attention by then.

Wednesday morning was a bit of a repeat. Slave was ready for some action before climbing into the shower, but Mistress was fast asleep when I came upstairs after soaking up some coffee.

I figured it would be rude to wake her. Later she called me at work to reassure me that she would have been happy to indulge her Slave's carnal needs.

"But you were asleep, Mistress.... It would have been like date rape or something...."

But what I had overlooked yesterday morning was that Mistress had arranged a lunch date with Jay, her back on again "side dish". Sure enough they ate out (down the street at a local chile joint) and then "ate in".... back here at the UCTMW World HQ.

"I wasn't sure he'd have time Slave..... but.... well, I think he missed me...."

No doubt.

All this action, combined with my "long" period of abstinence  had gotten Slave more anxious to climb into the sack with Mistress when I got home from work.  But there was more...

"our cute co-ed says she's coming home to drop some things off in 15 minutes, Slave.... so no sex just yet....."

Dang.

So instead of a Mistress starter, Slave was whipping up some gnocchi for the three of us last night.  But the filling dinner and a glass of red could not deter me once the little darling headed back to campus.

Mistress was very obliging, even though I have a feeling that an hour in bed with her athletic lover at lunch time probably had her a little tuckered out.

Now that is devotion.

Mistress and Slave Diverted

It seems that whenever Slave foolishly books our flights through Colorado there is a foul up.

I deserve to be punished, don't I.

On the way out there was a 6 hour delay due to a snow storm in Donkey land.

Then today, we were doing fine, heading to Colorado Springs. We even saw some beautiful wild horses, grazing at the side of the road. Maybe that was an omen that we should slow down and admire the beautiful views, the way those horses  were.

But as we approached Colorado Springs, the little automated voice for United kept calling that our flight from COS was delayed. By the time I turned on the rental car, it was so delayed that there was no way we were making our connection in Houston to River City.

Not to be deterred, I talked the United rep to book us on a direct flight out of Denver later this evening. But how to make that 92 mile trip to DIA?

I remembered that UCTMW Enterprises has a leased Hummer used by our western correspondent to suss out fast breaking stories of prurient interest to our world wide readership.

Mistress was immediately onto it via text with the WC/

Could he bring the UCTMW Hummer down I-25 to rescue us?  There was plenty of time.

But the news was not good.

As the WC tells the story, the UCTMW Hummer is in the shop being "detailed". Apparently a drum of his high end lubricant burst in the back seat during the recent cold snap.

"He says it's quite a mess, Slave."

No doubt. But that got me wondering ..... Why is UCTMW also paying for that heated garage for the Hummer if the sucker's parked out in sub-zero weather with a drum of overpriced lubricant? Late night at the ranch?

So we were forced to rent a car, and make our own way up I-25. Now we're waiting for another delayed flight, but at least no connection to make. If only all the shops weren't filled with all that PFM stuff!

Drone Fail

Here in the Land of Enchantment, Mistress and Slave have our "two - a - day" rhythm going, made easier by the fact that we skedaddled down from the mountain after only a few runs yesterday due to  subzero, windy, foggy conditions. Thankfully, the fire and other "pursuits" not requiring hand and foot warmers kept us more than engaged.

Then, in early evening, we headed down to our little "downtown" where the galleries and museums were lit by bon fires and farrolitos kicking off the holiday season. A light snow was falling, carolers were singing, and the scene created one of those idyllic  Christmas Eve panorama that makes you think of old Bing Crosby movies (at least if you are an old fart like me).

We didn't stay out too late. The snow was coming down in earnest by the time we pulled into our drive, and it is still falling. Should  be a good day on the slopes before we head home tomorrow.

I understand from Suzanne's blog that she and Tammy are headed to the Patriots game today, and she mentioned that Tammy will be wearing his CB for the occasion. Ouch. I hope he steers clear of the beer. My big concern about a cock cage at a sporting event is waiting in line to take a pee. He is certainly a better trained Slave than the old pampered one behind this keyboard.

And the WC? Sounds like his daughter declined the generous offer of tickets to today's Donkey Game in mile high city. So he's off to freeze his body parts off. Their was hope that Donna would get him one of those custom made "cock cozies" to prevent dickbite. Such a festive look too:

But alas, the delivery drone she had borrowed from Jeff Bezos and Amazon had an unanticipated problem:

Here's the thing about the drone, WC. 

While I worked out the weather situation, air speed, filed a flight plan, and arranged for careful packaging for your cock warmer, I neglected to consider the mental instability of the people living in this area. 

The drone hadn't even make it out of the county, when some local yokel blasted it out of the sky with his bazooka that he brought home from WWII. It fell from the sky leaving a flaming trail and caught a local evangelical church's Christmas tree lot on fire. The old gents minding the tree lot may have been imbibing a bit while trying to keep warm while standing outside waiting for people to stop and buy a tree. Their interpretation of events is that the Christmas star reappeared in the sky then fell in a blaze of glory to the grounds of their First Self-Righteous Church, marking their church the only true church on the planet. 

The yokel who shot the thing down isn't going to come forward because he's been warned before about shooting that bazooka, and I'm not saying anything since drones get bad press around here. I understand word of the wonder has spread, and the church is expecting record numbers of worshipers on Sunday morning for the blessing of the special "cloth arrow that points to the heavens" that was found in a silver (aluminum foil) container where the star blazed out. Did I forget to mention that I had placed a dildo in the cock warmer to help set it's shape...which might be described as rather arrow-like.

Sad to say, I can't knit another one fast enough to get it to you before the game. You'll just have to wrap things up and avoid drafts. 

With apologies,
Donna

Bummer WC. Hope you, the special occasion cock, and PFM all survive today's titanic struggle. 

Sheltering In Place

It's a very festive time of year here in our little hideaway. And although it's colder than normal (gee, thanks Sin for shipping that Canadian cold air in our direction) we've been enjoying some time together - between the sheets and elsewhere.

Last night there was an event in town where local businesses decorated and sold Christmas trees with profits going to local charities. We both like this one, put together by a funky local lingerie store, decorated with ceramic skulls and death masks -- sort of a goth Christmas. There was a funky dance band, and a skinny guy dressed in a Santa Suit taking some of the locals for a spin on the dance floor.

Mistress and one of our friends even flirted a bit with the local Mayor. As with most folks here, he is a jack of all trades: He sings in an Hispanic band, owns a radio station and a local bar, and even a music supply store.

How could we tell he was the Mayor? Well he had a jacket on that said so.

Of course, we didn't stay out too late. We had been out on the cold slopes, and spent some time in the sack through late afternoon. We needed to preserve our energy for another day on the mountain.

We woke a little early, indulged in some feisty wake-up sex, and discovered that the sun that had broken through yesterday at sunset was now hidden by another layer of snow clouds. settled down before the fire, eating breakfast, we debated whether to venture out.

Our sense of adventure overcame our good judgment and we ended up on the slopes at around 11 am. The wind was blowing, the snow falling, the air chilled with a cold fog obstructing what are normally stunning views. The lift operator confirmed it was minus 12 degrees as we slid into position for the ride up the mountain.

Dang.

We did make it through a few runs until our toes, fingers and faces began to numb up. (And never fear WC, Mistress's work-a-day cock was well protected from the perma-frosting).

The snow was nice, but then it's early in the season right? Plenty of turns left, and powder stashes to explore. So Mistress and Slave locked up their skis and turned tail and headed back to our little cabin.

The Keva fire place is now roaring. Mistress is spread out on the sofa with her kindle as Slave blogs this update, and we are wondering what the heck possessed us to venture out at all. I have a feeling we will soon be back in our bed, doing what a Mistress and her devoted slave are wont to do on a cold day in our empty nest.

Stay warm, compadres.

baby it's cold outside

Mistress and Slave are huddled up  out here at our Southwest Hideaway, where the Holiday spirit is on full display. When we pulled into our little town in the shadow of the Sangre de Christo Mountains Wednesday night the colorful lights on the old adobe buildings were shimmering in the cold mountain air. And through the day yesterday there was more snow to create a  winter wonderland scene straight out of Currier and Ives.

Yesterday we actually started this year's ski season in some fresh, fluffy powder, rather than the icy man made stuff that we are typically consigned to this early in the season. Though we are really only here for what amounts to a long weekend, we plan to make the most of the solitude: sex, skiing, some nice meals, and some pre-holiday celebrations.

We did here from the WC yesterday, who was whining that the cold weather will cramp his golf game and force him out into the frigid weather to catch his Donkeys this weekend. I'd make a joke here about tucking the Special Occasion Cock into one of those cock cozies that Donna knits, but that would just get Suzanne yanking our chain about the male obsession with frozen penises.

I hear the weather is turning nasty in River City and through the East this weekend - so use all depraved means available to stay warn and toasty!

Warning: Ancient White Male Ass on Display

Those of you with tender sensibilities need a "spoiler alert" about today's entry here at UCTMW. As in, I don't want to spoil your breakfast. (Or dinner for those of you in more exotic time zones). There- you are dutifully warned.

On our walk back from Thanksgiving dinner Thursday night - yes, we live in one of those idyllic American communities that most thought ended in the 1940's where "grandmother's house" is a 15 minute walk up a hill - Mistress gave fair warning that my days of pampering might be coming to an end:

"Slave, I think we've been a little too vanilla lately.... we may need to get a little more knky this weekend...."

"What standing do I have to object, Mistress...."

"Exactly...."

Yesterday morning, Mistress got a little more explicit. We had skipped wake-up sex so Mistress could make it to an early AM spin class at our Gym. On the drive over, she let me know what I had in store:

"It's been a while since I fucked you in the ass Slave..... "

"True, Mistress....."

So when the cute Co-Eds went off at around 11:30 for some of that much hated Black Friday shopping and lunch with their Aunt and Grandmother, it was clear that my ass was on the line.

"Why don't you get out our supplies, Slave...."

I dutifully retrieved her strap-on equipment, and our lube.....but when I came back to our bed, I noticed that something else had been added to the mix.

Her riding crop was laid out on the bed.

As she slid into her harness, she made sure I was in proper position -- on my tummy, ass available to her.  And as she struck me a good dozen times, directing me to stop my squirming to avoid even more, she reminded me of my need to  provide even more devotion and respect in the weeks to come.

"Yes, Mistress", was about all Slave could muster, as my bony aging ass stung, fading after a minute or so into a warm glow.  She took time to snap a photo and email it to me, with directions to post it here:

Mistress, of course, was not done just yet. She coached me into the proper position to accept the ass fucking she had promised, and seemed to have a nice powerful cum before she was done pumping into me. Then Slave was instructed to insert my aneros before she rode her work-a-day cock to another moaning cum. By then Mistress had her fill, and allowed me to fuck her until I begged for, and finally won permission to cum.

When the dust settled, we cuddled together in bed, enjoying the privacy of our temporarily empty noon-time nest.  Slave's attitude was well adjusted.

I wonder if this is what the Pilgrims had in mind when they created the Thanksgiving Day holiday?

A UCTMW Thanksgivakkah by the Numbers.

All that's left of Thanksgiving 2013  are a couple of turkey carcasses and the fond memories of family time together where no one came to blows or crossed that imaginary line of impropriety that becomes family legend.

Whew!

Plus we dodged the bullet for the first time in a few years and did not have to host our family and hangers on. So there is no cluttered kitchen for Slave to clean this morning.  Let's review the numbers:

8000- Someone mentioned at the table that this is the first time in 8000 yrs. that Thanksgiving and Hanukkah coincided. But was there really a Thanksgiving (or a Hanukkah) 8000 years ago?  And does anyone really believe that in 79,000 years, when it happens again, those who we leave this planet to will still be celebrating these events? Will Wal-Mart allow it?

13- People at the table last night at Grandma's house. (She had a cool silver bracelet on about 5 inches long that she must have bought from Wonder Woman. No, she's not your typical Grandma).

9- Pies driven in from Chicago. Yummy.

8- Times Mistress's sister used the word "Colonoscopy". At least when I was in the room. With two MDs and at least one hypocondriac at the table, it seemed we spent a lot of table talk time on medical procedures.

6- Bottles of wine consumed.

3- Dogs circling around, looking for scraps.

2- Dogs dressed  in leopard print hoodies. I mean, it was cold here yesterday. Where's George Zimmerman when you need him?

2- Times Mistress got to cum yesterday. (At least when I was around...one with our morning sex... once before our afternoon pre-pig-out nap, when Slave ministered to her clean shaven folds).

1- Times Slave got to cum. Once is enough for an overeating, pampered house Slave, don't you think?

We hope all of our followers state side had a pleasantly non-disasterous Thanksgiving too!

Thanksgivakkah Greetings

Mistress and her devoted Slave and in between social engagements right now... resting up a little before the big family dinner. There at least was time for some slow and sensual wake - up sex this morning, before a trip to the gym to burn off the calories from the pre-TG dinner with family we shared last night.... Why settle for one big family feast for Thanksgiving when you can schedule four in a row, right?

In any event, we wish all of our friends and followers well on this odd national holiday, that seems to have developed a bi-polar character these last few years: is it about spending time at home with family and friends, or is it about cramming into big box retailers to get a sweet deal on some household appliance?

I tend to think that there will be plenty left over at Target or the Mall the weekend before Christmas!

In the meantime, let's contemplate instead what kinky games the Indians and Pilgrims played all those years ago when the last bowl of yams was polished off:

Mistress takes a La-Snog-Na Break....

Mistress's new self-employed gig gives her a little more flexibility during the day.  Somedays, she's driving from meeting to meeting, and going a little bonkers. On other days she builds in a little more "flex-time".

Yesterday, before I headed to my own personal coal mine, she gave me a summary of her day: spinning in the AM. Work on some written projects at home,  prepare some lasagna for dinner with our homeward bound girls, then pick the East Coast Co-Ed up at the airport.

So I figured I knew where I could find her - at home - when I called to check in at lunch time.

But, alas.... the phone rang.... no Mistress.  She didn't even respond to my text.

Hmmmm.

She was off the radar screen.

Then, at around 1:30 or so the text chimed.....

"Jay came over Slave, and well .... update you later."

The story as it ultimately came out via phone and a more complete debriefing later was that they had planned to meet for lunch, but then Mistress suggested he come over for a plate of the lasagna she had just whipped up.

I guess that is one way to a man's cock....

I wonder if Mistress was slaving away in the kitchen, dressed like this when Jay arrived?

Keep in mind that Jay and Mistress stopped being "fuck buddies" about a year ago. He had issues with the shared nature of this sort of relationship. Probably understandable, but it I always wondered, "what's not to like?"

Then they went into a "biking buddies" phase.

They talk on the phone.

ride bikes.

She goes over to visit when she is "in the neighborhood".

There's been a little kissing.

There was that shared shower one day.

But no sex.

So what happened?

"After we ate the lasagna, I was cleaning up and he just came up from behind and grabbed me Slave..."

The rest was inevitable, apparently.

Soon they were up in the UCTMW Executive suite, clothes frantically falling away, and Jay taking her standing up, Mistress laying on her back on the bed.

"Then he had me do myself with the Hitachi Slave... for some reason he seems to really like that."

No doubt.

"Sounds like you had a productive day, Mistress...."

"I did Slave...."

And she had that well fucked smile that comes with a little afternoon action with your "side dish" before an empty nest gets re-infested.

Of course, Slave got to taste the results of a busy day for the clean shaven folds once we finished our own lasagna with the girls.

But I had to wonder.

"After all those months of relatively platonic buddy stuff, what turned the page?"

"Not sure Slave.... it's complicated for him. He wanted to know if I was going to tell you."

"And you said?"

"Of course... what's to hide, I said . He just laughed."

Crazy. Maybe we just chalk it up to  the ricotta cheese.

Just What Mistress Needed...

On Saturday a box arrived here at the UCTMW World HQ.

It was an assortment of gifts from our Senior Correspondent Donna and her lovely daughter in honor of Hanukkah. (Or is it Thanksanukkah this year?)

There were some candies, hot chocolates and coffees. A few feathers which she said were for the cats, but could have a more diabolical use if in the hands of an uppity pampered slave on switch day.

But at the bottom of the box, there were these:

"Great for risotto, Mistress?"

I said a little dubiously.

"Or for the next time you get surly, Slave...."

Moi, surly?

Gee thanks, Donna. Just what Mistress needed to compliment her super sized shoe horn, bamboo cane  and riding crop.


________________________________

I did want to briefly comment on the events that unfolded last night in the frigid tundras of Foxboro, Mass.

I know the WC and Suzanne over at All Mine were at the edge of their seats over the renewal of the rivalry between "PFM" and Mr. Giselle, though my sense is that they never settled on appropriate wagering terms. Suzanne seemed to be  doubting the prospects of her team and their Glamour Boy QB.

She even offered a bet with some sexual consequences to Jay, I hear, but he turned down the chance to put his own ass on the line.... the prospects of which  all of us have been rooting for.

The game  turned out to be a Tale of Two Halves, on Ice. I turned off the TV with the WC's Donkeys up 24-0 before the half, and the Patriots looking like they had already checked out for the night.

When I awoke this morning and checked ESPN I discovered that whatever trance they had fallen into in the first half had dissipated, with Mr. Giselle shaking off his ass-fucked doldrums and leading a rally that ended in an OT victory for hoodie's team.

It left me wondering.... did Jay leave the game at half time, sulking back for the solace of Suzanne's bed. Or did he stay to the bitter, but ultimately triumphant end in that low 20's stadium. If so..... it makes you wonder if the so-called trophy cock succumbed to frost bite.

If so, the monumental Patriots victory will be of the Pyrrhic variety. But I hear they sell nice implants these days. Good luck Suzanne!

Girding for the Holidays

It's only a few days before our empty nest is re-infested with our two cute Co-Eds, back home for the Thanksgiving holiday here in River City. Mistress has family coming to town as well, and we will all be crowded around tables this week, force feeding ourselves, and no doubt picking a few unnecessary quarrels that are the by product of too many people, related by blood and marriage, crowded into too small a space for too long a time.

Frankly, we would rather be at our SW hideaway for the holiday, where we spent quite a few Thanksgivings when our kids were in elementary and high school. It was a lovely way to enjoy family time without all the extras and hangers-on, and their posses too. But with college schedules tight, and the hassle of travel these days, it's just too hard to pull it off.

To prepare ourselves for the forced festivities, Mistress and Slave scheduled a very low key weekend here. Friday night, a little picnic in front of the computer screen, watching an obscure BBC series courtesy of Netflix.

Some lazy Saturday morning wake-up sex time in the UCTMW executive suite.

Saturday afternoon, I took my grandkids to visit their grumpy great grandma, who seemed to appreciate their spirit of rebellion and their crayoned turkeys.  Mistress went to the gym, then visited her former fuck buddy Jay.

"I was all sweaty, Slave.... but I don't think he minded."
 

Well I know I wouldn't.

I got home just in time to park in front of the TV to watch my alma mater take on the team from Mormon land. It seems like a waste, sitting in front of a TV for 3.5 hours dabbling on the lap-top or scanning the Paper, with a football game on..... but its nice to have no more complex or harried an agenda than that once a week or so.

And Mistress spread herself next to me on the couch, enjoying our time together, though she is no football fan.

She was reading her kindle and napping, her feet in my lap, a blanket spread over her. Cuddled together, we were grateful to have dodged the temptation to drive up to the game. It was cold, blustery and snowing. Yuck.

Somewhere in the 3rd quarter, my left hand couldn't help but slide under the blanket to confirm what I suspected.... no panties under that nighty she had slid into after her shower.

So as my team held off a 4th quarter rally by the team from Utah, Slave used his highly skilled fingers to tease those clean shaven folds. Mistress acts like nothing's happening, keeping to her kindle. But within a few minutes her body tensed, and those little soft moans of hers made it clear that Slave had successfully multi-tasked once again.

Cock Cage Follies

With the cold weather upon us, slave's balls were very uncooperative once again yesterday morning here at the UCTMW World HQ.

I was able to schmush my "package" into that hard steel ring in the early morning hours, and enjoyed the special intensity it induces when Mistress finally gave me permission to cum after she had fully exploited my particularly rigid "Mick unit". After all, it had been nearly 48 hours since my last indulgence.

But when the dust settled and we proceeded to the shower I had an unwelcome discovery.

"Oh Shit, Mistress. One of my balls is missing."

Actually, it was still there, but had somehow escaped it's confinement and retreated to where the sun does not shine.

Once that happens no amount of poking and prodding on a cold morning, even in a warm shower, would not induce it to "come out of hiding" and return to it's proper place.

Mistress was not particularly happy with this turn of events, but I had an alternative plan.

"I think that new steel cage I ordered is supposed to arrive today. What if I put it on at work and send you a photo."

"I guess that will have to do, slave.... but no dawdling. Don't wait until you're about to come home!"

Sure enough the new cage arrived at mid-morning, and I had it on before lunch. t has a hinged ring, and things had loosened up enough that I could squeeze it around. But it was tight. tighter than my current ring. and the moving parts and mounting device that the cage slips onto was pinchy.... like the plastic cage I used to have.

Ouch.  Lots of tugging at flesh and pubes through the day at odd times.  Not comfortable at all.

I took a photo and forwarded it to Mistress, who seemed pleased when she saw it:

 

But when I tucked on my shirt and pulled up my pants I noticed an immediate problem, which I described to Mistress via text.

"It sticks out - makes me look like I've got a super-sized cock like the WC. Do you think the babes will notice?"

Mistress was horrified:

"Oh no.... we can't have that....."

I guess it's back to the drawing board. Do you think Amazon takes returns on once used cock cages?

 

Mistress Continues Her Crackdown

Slave made it clear Sunday evening that she was expecting me in my cage Monday, and, sadly, it was one of those Monday's when she had a very early morning meeting. So none of our typical wake - up sex.

Slave (it is alright to capitalize when it starts a sentence, "anonymous"?) was certainly not going to argue, so I made sure to remember to schmush that ring on first thing, before suffering that "tighten up" cold morning phenomenon. I'm still waiting for that slow delivery from Amazon!

So I was off to work, fully caged, no wake up sex.  Dang! Should I call the "abused caged cuckold hotline"?`

Mistress did stop by for some pre-lunch worship. But sadly the key was back at home. After wriggling back into her black tights, my work done, she did not show a whole lot of sympathy.

"Aww.... poor Slave.... are you a little horny now?"

I must say I was more than a  little horny after my sad denial that morning, compounded by  the stimulative impact of Mistress's musky juices smeared across my face.

So by the end of the day, I was more than ready for "release", in both senses of the word.  But Mistress had bad news. She was feeling a little flu-ish. So while she sprung her work-a-day cock loose, she proclaimed there would  be an unscheduled abstinence day.

(I might add that she did not object when I used my fingers to deliver a quick cum while we sat on the couch watching an episode of Homeland last evening.  So maybe she'll be feeling a little better this morning.)

At bed time, she reminded me that she expected the ring on again this morning when I came back to bed, hoping that our regular regime will resume.

"You may be in the cage all week, slave, after last week's issues...."

I hope those new cages come soon....

Slave Gets a Smack Down

Slave had a sore ass last evening after Mistress administered a mid-afterenoon cropping as a way for her to express her well justified displeasure about some unfortunate developments here in River City late last week.

Slave was asked to speak to a large crowd about a civic issue on Thursday evening. It was a bit of an ego stroke for this aging crank, and I probably enjoyed my brief moment in the spotlight a little too much.

 But that's not what got Mistress annoyed.

No... it was the rather overbearing presence of a woman we usually try to avoid around town. The one that Slave briefly got into some hot water with about 5 years ago, when Mistress and Slave were commuting from afar. That brief dalliance led, in a way, to our contract and this blog. Those of you who've stopped in here from time to time probably recall the sad the story. If not, check out the "back story" on the right.

Anyway....there she was, at the door when we arrived. And later she even showed up in the background of some random photos posted on facebook of Mistress chatting up some folks at the event.  Mistress didn't actually blame her presence on me --- I didn't know in advance -- but she was not pleased.

"This is why I make sure to come to these sorts of events with you, Slave....."

And I thought it was a birthday treat.

Then, on Friday night we had plans to go to an event at a local, historic hall under restoration. It was one of those deals with a reception first, some drinks and bites, followed by some rather tedious "fine" arts performances, which turned out to be rather lame.

But once again, there was that particular woman, lurking about.

"She's a menace, Slave...."

We successfully dodged her through both events, but it's never good to remind Mistress of her Slave's past transgression.

So yesterday afternoon -- following a nice nap-- and after I gave Mistress's clean shaven folds the full attention they so clearly deserved, Mistress was inspired to grab the crop tucked away in our bedroom closet.

"Roll over Slave....."

"Oops...."

"What did I do wrong, Mistress?"

I know, it's never a good idea to question Mistress's exercise of her contractual rights, but I suppose I was curious.

"You know exactly why you deserve this...."

Ouch. The first few blows landed on my ass. I couldn't help but squirm away....

"I couldn't help she was there, Mistress...."

Double ouch.

"Don't roll away..... I'm almost done....."

I did my best to take my medicine, leaving my ass at her mercy. In all, I suppose it was only 10 smacks on my twitching ass. Nothing a good Slave shouldn't be able to handle.

"This is just a little reminder about the behavior I expect from my Slave."

Soon my medicine was fully administered, with my ass glowing. And I was duly reminded to redouble my devotion to a Mistress who is firm, but fair.

In retrospect,  it's good for Mistress to vent that way, rather than brood about this annoyance. My ass can take it.

And in her post punishment mercy, she allowed me to fully deploy the work-a-day cock that remained firm as well throughout these disciplinary proceedings.

So there was a happy ending!

Crazy Week in River City

The days slid away from us here at UCTMW this week. Lots of running around for Mistress. Lots of performance art for her devoted Slave. In the middle of it we did take a little detour through our ever so flat state capitol. Slave had a presentation to make. And with our nest emptied there was no reason why Mistress could not join me for a brief respite in a Marriott bed and a romantic dinner to celebrate Slave's latest inglorious birthday.

That left time for some sex on the double wide bed before dinner, and some hot wake up sex the next morning before Slave was off to do his thing.

Yesterday I had another bit of bloviating to do at a big civic meeting in the evening.  Mistress could have just gone to the gym or visited her friend Jay, but I was grateful that she loyally stuck by my side.

Of course, there was the incentive of a little pre-meeting worship in my office. She even wore her black tights and boots, which were a bit of a distraction to me  later as I rambled on, and apparently to the long haired fellow sitting next to her in the third row , who seemed to be chatting her up during my warm up act.

After the dust settled and the rabble I had roused were heading back to their trouble making lives, we ran into said long haired dude down in the lobby of the building. He made sure to say good by to Mistress.

"It was nice talking with you...."

"Who's that Mistress?", I muttered to her in a little aside.

"Oh... he's T*****'s grad assistant."

"He seems to have taken a shine to you, Mistress...."

"I suppose he was flirting a bit...."

At least Mistress didn't get too bored at last night's meeting.

Now I better get back up to bed and show my gratitude.

Shop 'Til You Drop (Dead)?

Over the weekend, Donna, our beloved senior correspondent, forwarded an article from the Sunday Times that I had overlooked: Sex Toys in the Attack. The gist of this cleverly written piece is that us aging baby boomers are likely to have a stash of not suitable for our kids' viewing items tucked away around the house, that probably aren't getting as much use as they used to get. What happens when, on the occasion of our untimely (or even timely) demise, they are still there to be unearthed by those consigned with the burden of sorting through and disposing of our "estates"?

I can relate to this problem big time. Over the summer I spent many hours sorting through the accumulated detritus of my aging Mother. We had relocated her to a nice assisted living apartment. In her mind her "relocation" was akin to be shipped in a cattle car to a concentration camp. Under protest she had designated the things she wanted to move there, but that left behind a Condo crammed with what one can only refer to as junk - things she had been unwilling to toss away though she'd not used them for 20 or more years.  I did come upon some things that were decidedly creepy in  her dressers and closets - though only one could be marginally considered a sex toy, an ancient,  over-sized vibrator that I would like to think had something to do with her bad back.

But what if our kids had to go through the drawers and closets of the UCTMW World HQ? Presumably there would be no reason for them to find and sort through this blog, and its 4 year plus  documentation of their parents' peculiarities and misadventures. But there is a whole lot of incriminating evidence stuffed here and there in dresser drawers, bedside tables, and little wicker hampers in our closet:  cuffs, canes, collars, crops, clamps, crystal cock.

And that only covers one letter of the kinky alphabet.

I've been on a bit of a "down sizing" tear here since having to deal with all my Mother's crap. We hope to move ourselves into a smaller place come spring and it just won't all fit. But the thought of our cute Co-Eds, or my somewhat prissy and judgmental oldest daughter  finding Mistress's strap on harness makes me a little squeamish.

I suppose I'll be dead under those circumstances.  But, as the author suggests in that article, what if our sense of shame lasts for 30 days after our body goes cold?

Some of the most embarrassing items that could be unearthed are my cock cages, stuck on my sock drawer at this very moment. Could I be any more obvious?

"Gee....wonder what Dad used this for?"

And I seem to be adding to my collection. Like shoes, one cock cage can't be used for every occasion, can it?  With Suzanne's encouragement many of you chimed in with some suggestions over the weekend. Setting aside piercings, which Mistress thankfully vetoed,  the selection seems to have expanded exponentially since the last time I was on the market.  Better yet, the discounters have gotten involved, making products available at lower price points! The miracle of free markets has done its destructive work in earnest.

Now the folks at Amazon.com, determined to dominate in every conceivable market - why don't the Iranians get their nukes there? - have wedged their jack boots into the realhm of male chastity devices of various materials and configurations. Could it be long before you can pick them up at WalMart with your flat screen TV and cat litter?

The ones that really creaped me out involved steel needle like devices crammed down the tip of your cock.

 WTF! How could that be safe, and what strange kink does that appeal to?  It would seem like a cock on a spit ready to be roasted. Maybe we should get the WC to try one of these out and give it a consumer product review for these pages. He's been pretty unproductive lately.

There are now "woodies" to make sure a good Slave doesn't get one:

Maybe these are popular in Holland, as an accessory for wooden shoes, but  would seem a little clunky, and unsanitary too. The plastic ones are hard enough to keep clean.

There were a few steel models I may try out that have hinged rings to deal with that schmushing problem on cold mornings I've encountered:

That one also looks like it might be easier to take a pee in, something that needs to be considered.


But I settled at least initially for the good old CB6000, the Ford Fiesta of the product line. Cheap. Nothing flashy. May be dead at 40,000 miles, but gets the job done for that trip to the office, the Court House, or flight to Atlanta, as long as you use the plastic locks:

While this might eliminate some of Slave's lame excuses, it doesn't solve the problem of who gets to dispose of this stuff in the event Mistress and Slave get buried under an avalanche this ski season, leaving behind a house full of incriminating evidence of Mom and Dad's "sick" side. Any suggestions on how to solve that problem?

Slave Needs Some Cage Shopping Tips

I suppose it was inevitable. Slave's has a very secure steel cage, which once on, is impregnable, tight  and very very effective. It won't come off without the key.

The trouble is it is not the easiest to get on. The hard steel ring does not open and close. It's snug as hell too. To mount it I need to schmush my balls, then my cock, through a narrow and inflexible aperture.

That task requires optimal physiological and meteorological conditions: if it's too cold, my ball sack contracts as my testes seek their natural shelter, so as to keep my sperm warm toasty and ready to fertilize a female egg at the drop of a pantie.

In addition, after I've had sex, there seems to be a natural contraction of the ball sack too. Is this part of the "recharge" process? I guess I need to look that one up.

So what happened this morning to bring all of this to a head?

Mistress has evening plans tonight. Two overlapping work events where a spouse would neither be necessary or appropriate. But she forgot to remind me last night about her anticipated desire for her Slave to be caged "to make sure you don't get into trouble while I am out."

She realized her mistake in the midst of me taking her from above, following suitable worship, during our daily "wake-Up Sex" routine.

"Slave don't forget your cage today...."

"But....."

"Here go the excuses again...."

I was hoping that a warm shower might loosen things up down there, but alas.

"Here Slave.... check this out.... no way I can get that ring on now."

Her warm hands handled my sac as I stood at the side of the bed.

"I see what you mean, Slave....."

That's when she indicated that I had an assignment today.

"You need a new cage, one that you can put on without such advance notice Slave.... and come to think of it, I'm tired of this metal detector excuse you always roll out."

So I need some help here dear cuck and caged readers: what brands do you recommend? Are there any "cock encumbrance solutions" out there that are cutting edge? (Well I don't want any cuts or sharp edges, come to think of it.... ). My last CB brand product was always pinching and yanking pubic hair. And the rings kept breaking. Isn't there a open and close non-metal product out there that will work better?

I need your advice on this fellow cucks and enforced chastity afficianados. Pronto.

One More Election Night

Mistress and Slave spent another evening in the midst of the political classes at our local board of elections, monitoring the vote count for some friends with hats in the ring. That always reminds me that our first blog entry here...now four years ago, documented another local Election Day. Reading that entry makes me realize how the "voice" here has evolved, and the pleasant waters that have gone over the damn since wading into the blog-o-verse, and getting to know some of the characters that have haunted this page: The WC, Donna and Bill, and of course our friendly competitors over at All Mine. You too Sin.... though I am still waiting for illustrations!

And of course back in 2009, Mistress had yet to wade into the world of cuckoldry. While things on that front have been a little slow .... she's been a little preoccupied with her re-launch of her own practice.... she does have a "date" this weekend. It seems that her former fuck-buddy Jay, who has transitioned into a "biking pal", has invited to spend Sunday night at his place to celebrate his birthday.

"Not sure where this is headed, Slave...."

Has Jay's acquired aversion to involvement with someone who "belongs" to another given way to baser instincts? 

We shall see. 

The Election Night proceedings here were not as fraught with drama as they were back in 2009. There was no one about for Mistress to get paranoid about. Instead, the usual suspects were there, sharing stories about the good old days, and mourning a grizzled local political operative - someone I'd known since the days of George McGovern - who, naturally, picked an election day to check out on us.

Impeccable timing, Mike.

Mistress was as lovely as always, flirting with the reporters and local elected officials, while Slave chased the latest returns, called a despondent campaign manager who's candidate was out of the running with the first absentee reports. She had on a black dress and boots, black tights and leather jacket... very Dommish, come to think of it. But most of the guys there were too focused on themselves to pick up the signals, I suspect.

And when the tea leaves became clear, we headed home to our empty nest.... a little too tuckered to do much other than nod off.

'You don't mind if I sleep in the tights, do you Slave...."

"Ummmm..... of course not Mistress....you know how I love to snuggle up to your ass when you have them on...."

And I'm particularly interested in peeling them off this morning.....

"Love Nest" RIP

-->

Mistress and Slave had one of those rare days Sunday when we had nothing of consequence to do but entertain one another: I had covered the trip to my cranky Mother’s house in Saturday; My daughter and her grandsons cancelled on their visit for Sunday dinner; Mistress’s mother was off on another exotic excursion; and even the NFL schedule co-operated. The Pussycats had lost in “that only happens to the Pussycats” style on Thursday night (A safety in OT! WTF!) , giving fans their on bye Sunday.

Rest assured we put our free day to good use: Wake-up sex; a bike ride; Mistress whipped up breakfast; some yard work for me; then an entertaining Indie movie downloaded on I-Tunes, snuggled together on the couch. 

At some point, after the ride, Mistress appeared in some foxy nighties – just panties and a matching top – and asked if I minded her wearing such skimpy attire for the rest of the day.

“What Slave would object to that, Mistress?”

By the end of out first movie,  it was only 3:30 pm or so.

“How about sex and a nap, Mistress?”

“I thought you’d never ask, Slave.”

After adjourning to the UCTMW executive suite for a suitable respite,  Slave gathered his strength and grilled some Salmon. Mistress whipped up some of her patented acorn squash, loaded with a confection of brown sugar and walnuts that is to die for. And we watched yet another cute indie movie about a young London married couple destined to be with other lovers by the end of the reel, called “I Give It A Year.”

Cute.

Our day huddled together, the rest of the world shut away,  reminded me a bit of our “Love Nest” days, memories also dredged up by yesterday’s Maureen Dowd column in the Times: From Love Nest to Desire Surveilance

She focuses on the revived 1980's Pinter play “Betrayal” - about a love triangle in which a married woman and her husband’s friend have a secret apartment for their trysting - and ties it to revelations from the trial of Rupert Murdoch’s minions in London, who were carrying on their own secret affair while tapping the cell phones of celebrity philanderers.

The point she makes is that with our advanced communications technology, it’s almost impossible to carry on a proper (or should I say improper) clandestine affair these days.

Instead of a second address, modern philanderers are more likely to have a second phone. Love nests seem archaic, given how physical erotics have been somewhat displaced by digital erotics.

We virtually have another N.S.A., the National Sex Agency, given all the desire surveillance technology and the manic collection of preliminary information about conceivable partners.

The extension of information obsession to the field of intimacy — which is the slow revelation of one person to another — ruins the mystery, poetry and suspense. Instead of caressing, there’s posting; instead of kissing, there’s forwarding, sharing and sending.

A love nest also figures prominently in the new memoir “Johnny Carson,” by the comedian’s old lawyer and carousing buddy, Henry Bushkin. The Bombastic Bushkin, as he became known in Johnny’s monologues, first meets Carson in 1970, when he joins a stealthy team breaking into the East Side “snuggery” of the star’s second wife, Joanne.

After Carson, wearing a .38 revolver on his hip, got into the apartment, thanks to a bribe, he discovered scattered lingerie and other “evidence of his cuckoldry,” as Bushkin wrote.

“The whole living room, in fact, almost the entire pad — was furnished with discards from the couple’s UN Plaza apartment,” Bushkin recalled. “There were even some pieces Johnny hadn’t realized were gone.”

Carson confirmed the identity of the man he sneeringly called Joanne’s “Prince Charming” in the most low-tech way possible: there were six or seven framed photographs of sportscaster and former New York Giants star Frank Gifford.

I guess there’s one more reason for me to admire my boyhood Giants hero.

One dictionary defines "Love Nest" as "a place (such as an apartment) used for amorous and often illicit rendezvous". The first recorded use of the term in the United States was in 1919. I guess those dough boys picked up a few tricks "over there".

When Mistress and Slave first “hooked up” back in the age of Dukakis and “A thousand points of light”, we quickly found our own “love nest”, a cozy efficiency apartment a few blocks from my downtown office. We’d meet maybe twice a week – a long lunch hour, or a Sunday morning when we both told our spouses we were catching up on office work – for some hot and illicit sex on the futon we had found at Pier One. A bit like the "Joanne and Frank” nest that Johnny discovered, we had purloined some furnishings that would not be missed from home. A few plates and glassware, Mistress’s candles, some linens, a chair. Nothing fancy. And of course some “toys” to play a few bondage games.

(Those Pier One futon platforms have lots of handy lashing points!)

We had our own “love nest” for about three years before we pulled the plugs on our first marriages, and moved in together into a house we rented, while awaiting the arrival of  our now cute Co-Ed, who turned 21 last spring.

Looking back, there’s no way we could get away with that sort of thing with today’s devices making it so easy to track a straying spouse down. Our wife/husband would be all over us via cell phone or text message wanting to know where we were, what we were doing, and when we’d be home. And who needs to go to work on a Sunday anyway, when your "desktop" is so portable? Even worse,  the errant text or email from a “side dish” can quickly become incriminating evidence these days.

No we were from the last generation that could leave the house or office and be - as a practical matter - on our own remote island for a few hours.

Mistress mentioned that one of her Cougar Week lovers – confused about the whole “permission” thing – had asked her whether it wouldn’t be more fun to “just cheat”…. i.e. “Don’t let Mick in on it.”

“Seems like a lot of trouble when you already have a contractual right to stray, Mistress.”

“That’s what I said, Slave….”

It may be that for a while the “secret” can make an affair a tad hotter. But over the long term it’s corrosive. And, as Ed Snowden has reminded us from freedom loving Moscow, secrets just aren’t what they used to be.