From the Cock-Pit

As this gets posted, we hope we will be winging East, back in the general direction of River City.

But at least we should share this photo of Mistress's in her replacement panties here in our plush room at the Airport Raddison -

See what you're missing WC?

Fortunately, Mistress is resourceful. If they cancel your flight, then she knows its time to take the controls:

Stuck

Mistress and Slave woke up in a charming little western town in Southern Colorado, in the shadow of these "Spanish Peaks", which out cracker jack Western Correspondent helpfully informed us are in the 14,000 ft. category. (We thought he was more familiar with Spanish Fly than Peaks, but I guess we are always surprised by Miguel.)

In fact, we had checked in with the WC on our drive Saturday evening north from New Mexico. We left our cabin after a final gloriously sunny ski day because of reports that snow was heading toward Denver, and we wanted to be on the ride side of that 10,000 foot mountain pass if that was the case.

Miguel assured Mistress that it was nothing to worry about.

"Only a few inches... DIA can sure handle that."

So we stopped for the night in that tiny old mining town at a quaint 130 year old hotel, with a cute little restaurant, planning to finish the drive to Denver this morning. And when we woke up at around 6 am the skies were clear, as you can see from this "on the road" photo.

But north of Colorado Springs the snow began to fall, and we got the word from an airline we will forego in the future that 1) our plane was cancelled;  2) If we are lucky they might be able to squeeze us in on an alternative flight in 3 or 4 days; and 3) there would be an extra charge to fly an earlier flight to a nearby City.

So much for our WC's meteorlogical skills.

I will give the WC credit though: he did invite us to move into his basement suite for the duration of our extended stay in the mountain west.  But work cannot wait for Southwest Airlines to find some room for us.  We braved an exit ramp in heavy wet snow, found a Starbucks, whipped out the laptops,  and made alternative reservations back in Colorado Springs.... for Monday morning.

We hopped back in the rental car, reversed course, dodged spinning pick-ups on I-25, and now find ourselves safely and warmly ensconced in a hotel near the airport. Sadly, the WC was unable to accept our invitation to join us for dinner. Nor would his Executive Editor expect him to risk the company car in this weather.

Mistress did complain to him over the phone that her Slave was unwilling to pull off the snow slicked, whited out  highway in search of a lingerie stores so she could acquire an extra set of undies for this unexpected stay. The WC advised that she "go commando" tomorrow, but she whined about the potential chafe involving jeans and tight airport seating.

But there was a happy ending of sorts.

The snow abated by the time we hit the Springs.

And Slave spotted a suburban mall with a Kohl's.  That would have to do.  Mistress selected the following from the meager selection:

"You like polka dots, don't you Slave?"

And we did find a cozy hotel room.  We've already had some nice "between the sheets" time, though Mistress expressed surprise when, after I gave her a nice cum with my hungry lips and tongue, I directed her to suck her "work-a-day" cock.

"You're getting a little 'take charge' aren't you Slave?"

"Remember Mistress.... it is switch day."

Fortunately, Mistress did remember.

And tonight, while Mistress is watching the Oscars, maybe I can find some time to further organize the budding "Tammy Liberation" Movement.

FREE TAMMY!

Mistress and Slave are winding down our week at our SW hideaway. Over the last few days the snow gods have smiled on us here, giving us back to back Powder Days with the groomers unable to keep up with the dump.  Both Mistress and I took photos of ourselves knee deep in the light fluffy stuff yesterday.

But you will be relieved to know that we've also been able to keep up the sexual hijinks too.  Of course, Wake-up sex is never a problem. After a good night's sleep we are always "good to go", and the time change always gives us a little head start on the day. Early to bed and Mistress's work-a-day cock is locked, loaded and ready to discharge on command.

Yesterday afternoon, our legs were shot by around 1:30, so we came down the hill a little early. We had friends coming over for dinner, so Slave went into town to buy some provisions while Mistress set the table and tidied up. When I arrived home Mistress was ready for a lay down, with about 3 hours to go before our guests arrived.

She mentioned how sore her legs were, and I noted that she still had her black skiing tights on. Slave took this as a signal that Mistress was too tuckered for some afternoon delight, and I must say I was a little sleepy too. So after a little reading we both dozed off as the sun began its slow descent reflecting off the mountains through our cabin window.

But after about 30 minutes I noted some tell tale motion  next to me. Mistress was snuggling close, and her leg was draping over mine. I quickly got the message.

"Slave, I want you to make love to me now...."

No problem, Mistress, I thought you were tuckered out and  taking a pass."

"let me do the thinking, Slave."

She slithered out of those tights, and instructed her slave to insert "your device", assuring a particularly cock.  And by the time I slid back into bed I was more than anxious to graze her clean shaven folds as a little "starter" course before moving onto the main event.

Mistress indulgence of her pampered house Slave is a contrast to what's going on over in the realm of Suzanne at  All Mine . She and Jay are off somewhere in the West, where she is combining business with mucho pleasure this week. In the meantime, Tammy has been relegated to his cock cage, with no apparent possibility of parole until his Mistress's return.

Now I know some of you fans of forced chastity relish the thought of extended denial. But all I know is the cock cage I wear can get damned uncomfortable after 24 hour. I can't begin to imagine the pinchy pain and discomfort of a week of containment.  Yikes!

It sounds that Tammy's regular babysitter, Sherry, who typically enjoys "keyholder" status (as well as other privilges) will be checking up on Tammy this weekend. Couldn't she be allowed to at least take Tammy's "clitty cock" out for a weekend stroll before Suzanne returns next week?

Now maybe this cry for justice is impertinent coming from a lowly, and oft  pampered house Slave. Last night Mistress threatened me with a spanking in front of our guests when I inconsiderately gave her some instructions as we were putting dinner on the table.  (One of the female guests snickered at the thought, though I suspect she thought Mistress was only joking with me). It may be this blog posting will be interpreted as too "uppity" and make her follow through on her warning. If so, I am prepared to face the medicine for showing solidarity for a fellow sub.

But of you agree with me that its time to give Tammy at least a brief parole this weekend, with supervision by Suzanne's well experienced sister Tammy, please stop by All Mine today and add your voice to mine.

Snow Day

I know, when it snows like hell, and you're in a ski town, the first thing you're supposed to do is grab your skis and head to the mountain, right?  Sort of like Annette and Frankie in those old beach movies when someone yells "surf's up"?

Well I regret to inform you that Mistress and Slave have become fair weather skiers.  When the roads get slippery, and the snow gets a little too thick on the cruising runs, we tend to look for other things to occupy our time. Accuse us of being "fair weather skiers" and we are likely to break down and confess.

That was especially true yesterday, when we woke with some sore legs and backs after four consecutive days on the slopes, about 7 inches of new snow in the yard, and the gregarious Irish DJ on the local radio warning about a bad accident on the road up the canyon that had traffic stopped for the foreseeable future.

Well of course there was some grazing on Mistress's clean shaven folds to conduct, after which she indulged her cock with some compelling mouth to rod resuscitation before allowing me to fuck her.

Slave whipped up some scrambled eggs as we still considered out option of a later than normal trip up to the mountain. But ultimately we acknowledged the obvious -- our motivation to hip the slopes was just not there. So we resigned ourselves to a day of lazy. And though we did do some remote location work for a while, a good bit of the day was spent in front of the fireplace, reading or napping.

At around 1:30 pm we wandered down the street past some of our neighbors frolicking in the new fallen snow:

And we slid into the local ice cream store / breakfast spot / and wifi hot spot for a scoop of some locally made organic ice cream, purportedly free of the bovine growth hormones that the fellow above seems to gorge on. I noticed that the store is now offering a breakfast special named after Mistress:

Thoughts of that "bed of sauteed portabellas, spinach and red onion" had us heading home and back to our own bed. After inquiring whether I had packed my "device" (the aneros), Mistress made it clear she was interested in exploiting the particularly hard and needy cock it can contrive. 

And rest assured, she did.

All in all, I think we put our snow day to good use.

Bear Necessities

Yesterday was another perfect one here in the Sangre de Christo Mountains.

There was some robust wake-up sex in Mistress's home office away from home. She seemed to particularly enjoy the devotion of my lips and tongue to those clean shaven folds.

Then there was a day on the slopes, with some early morning cloud cover melting away on our very first chair ride to perfectly clear and azure skies.

Mistress even got in some flirtation time.  WE had agreed to meet at the end of a run at a small espresso shack at the base of a lift. Mistress took the direct route, and I must have meandered, so when I was arrived, she was sitting at an out door picnic table, helmet off, and the arm of a bearded man, about my age over her shoulder.

I stepped up to the coffee shack, only a few feet away, and casually asked what her order would be.

The fellow, with a neatly trimmed beard seemed a little surprised when Mistress said, "oh that's my husband....".

Then she said to me "he asked if he could pose for a picture with me . . . you don't mind do you?"

"Of course not...."

The man added, a little defensively, "It's not like we're making out or something...."

"Well that would be OK too.... it's up to her.... she's got permission....."

The man, a handsome chap who turned out to be here from San Diego for some type of bachelor party weekend, seems a little startled, but settled for his photo.

Mistress later explained that he told her they were on some sort of "scavenger hunt", and a photo with a
"young wife" was on the list.

"I expressed doubt about that Slave....I mean, I'm not all that young...."

Maybe it was the MILF category, Mistress...."

After that we took a few more runs, and then, legs getting sore, we retreated down the mountain at around 2 pm. Slave had an errand to run.

On Saturday afternoon, on the way down the canyon, a front tire had blown out. Slave did some "field slave" duty and changed the tire on the muddy shoulder, impressing Mistress with the fact that I had at least a few useful skills.

But that left us driving on one of those wimpy little spare tires, which the rental company helpfully explained that I should use for no more than 50 miles, at no more than 50 mph. Well that's helpful!
And, BTW,  when they learned how far  we were from "civilization", their initial offer to bring a new car and haul this gimpy one away was unceremoniously withdrawn.

"Just take it to a local tire store... maybe customer service will reimburse you...."

I look forward to that conversation.

So that brought Slave to the nearest tire store yesterday afternoon. And it was very "local".  Something that seemed the combination of auto parts and taxidermy shop, with a little seating area furnished with 40 year old couches and barca-loungers. And of course a full sized stuffed brown bear off to the side, where a flat screen might be at your local Goodyear store back in River City.

I toted my dead tire to the front desk where a rather grimy hispanic fellow took it off my hands and out the back door for a quick diagnosis. Someone on a cell phone asked if I wanted to wait or come back, since "treatment" might take half an hour. I elected to stay and soak in the atmosphere, which began to take on the dimensions of a sit-com set, sort of an Hispanic, Southwest version fo "Taxi."

But I got the bad news only a few minutes later. A sad shake of the head. "This one's dead, Senor."
I didn't spend much time in mourning, instead asking if they had a reasonable facsimile. It turned out they had something that might work, and would only put me out $120. Though Mr. cell phone warned that the rent-a-car company might argue if it wasn't an exact duplicate when I asked for my money back.

No doubt.

Of course, when they tried to mount the new tire the news got worse. They pointed to a bent rim, and the leak it produced.

"That's why it went flat in the first place...."

"Can't you just bang it back...."

"But it's aluminum.... banging might make it crack...."

They seemed impressed with  my cajones when I said "but what do we got to lose....."

Sure enough, a few wacks with a mean looking chunk of metal, and the rim seemed restored to something close to it's original shape. And the tire wasn't leaking. Will it hold for the week and the ride back to Denver?  Who knows.

 After I settled my tab, Mr. Cell Phone had no problem with me taking a photo of their bear.

"My Dad shot it up near Eagle Lake. When it was legal. They say that bear tore up a whole lot of kitchens."

I'm glad I never had to grab my corn flakes back from that bad boy.

Back at home, Mistress was laying out in the last of the day's sun, wrapped in a blanket, taking some work calls.  But soon I persuaded her to share some of her bodily warmth back under the covers.  While she claimed her folds had gotten a little stubbly from neglect, I was more than happy to abandon my field slave duties for more intimate tasks.

Settled In in the Southwest

Mistress and Slave took their guests out for a nice dinner Saturday night, then saw them on their way Sunday morning, leaving us to our own carnal devices for the rest of the week.

It took a little adjusting with guests in the house though. I had to turn on some music to mask the sounds of Sunday morning wake - up sex, and Mistress got a free pass on Switch Day.

"If I used the crop on you do you think you could stifle those moans enough so as not to disturb our friends outside the door, drinking their morning coffee, Mistress...."

"I wouldn't count on it, Slave."

Well I suppose I could have contrived a gag, but then how would I mute the sound of the crop thwacking Mistress's delicious bottom?

Once they were off, we had a nice semi-full day of skiing in some bright SW sunshine.  But we retreated a little early to enjoy our empty cottage, and Mistress even caught some sun out on the deck, wrapped in a warming blanket.

After I made a run into town to fill up the larder for the week, we settled into bed, for some more reading, a nap and some delightful pre-sunset delight.

It's nice not having to stifle. 

We are counting in much more of the same over the next six days.

Spanking Averted

Mistress and Slave made it to our mountain hideaway after a long trip last evening. When we arrived we had a full and dramatic view of the Milky Way on a moonless, cloudless night.

Amazing.

But Slave almost faced the possibility of two thrashings in one week.

You see its rare we travel on Southwest Airlines, with their infernal "festival seating" Q.  Several years ago, it was more frequent, and Mistress (who did not have that title in those days), knew it was necessary to check-in at the earliest opportunity to avoid being stuck at the back of the line and settling for a middle seat between two snoring, smelly lardasses.

But Slave had forgotten that lessen. I waited until yesterday morning at work to check in.  We were assigned slots B-52 and 53 in the line for a packed flight to Denver.

Mistress was not too pleased.

She gave me a withering look as we watched all the others load up in front of us.

"Slave, if we end up having to sit apart, you'll get a spanking tomorrow!", she whispered with an "evil" smile.

"I understand, Mistress."

Luckily, we did find an aisle and middle seat near the back of the plane. A little too close to a crying baby, but sometimes you have to settle, don't you?

And after a long drive, we've made it to our Nirvana,  the sun is coming up and we have a nice ski day ahead of us.

It's a little odd though, in that a female colleague and a client are also here for the next 24 hours or so, sharing the house. We'll enjoy a nice dinner with them tonight and then get our cabin back for the rest of the week.

But in the meantime, Mistress had some instructions.

"Slave, while the ladies are here, I don't want you going out to take care of your business on the snow."

It's a habit I've gotten into here.  I mean why waste well water. And the views are to die for.

"I Don't want any other women getting a look at my cock!"

Who could argue with that sentiment. Not this Slave.

Happy Valentine's Day from UCTMW

Here in River City Mistress and Slave will be celebrating a low key Valentine's Day, in anticipation of our journey west on Friday for a week at our mountain hideaway. An empty Ski nest awaits, and we will take full advantage.

I have strict orders:

"Slave, I want that spelt pizza -- mushrooms and goat cheese - and an evening at home with you...."

I am sure that can be arranged.

Of course, I do have a little tribute gift for Mistress for V-Day. Some sexy underthings that I may be able to persuade her to model for you.

And I suspect there will be plenty of opportunities for some worship this evening, just as there was last night when Mistress returned from her spinning class after work.

"I'm probably a little gamey down there Slave.... it was quite a work-out".

"Since when did that every stop me, Mistress."

Here's hoping that our vast handful of readers also find some opportunities for pleasure this Valentine's Day!

Cuckoldress in Training?

On Sunday afternoon we traveled up to our cute Co-Ed's bucolic college campus for a quick dinner to see how she's doing. We even brought along Mistress's mother, who dotes on her granddaughter and even made her some cookies to share with her roommate.

All very heartland, right?

But at dinner the conversation turned to her plans for Valentine's Day.

Her sorority, in a joint party with another sorority,  has rented out a local bar in this quaint midwestern college town for Valentine's Day. The cuties are getting all dressed up for the occasion. Apparently they aren't going to leave it to chance that they have Valentine's Day plans with their beaus. And I mean that in the plural.

"So do you have a date?", grandma asked.

She described some lad from upstate NY she had invited, but said she's having trouble coming up with another one.

This woke old Mick up.

"Isn't one good enough?"

She explained the rules.

"We're each supposed to invite two boys."

Huh?

It seemed that the sororities are flipping the lyrics from that old Beach Boys' song, "Surf City".  The objective is to have 2 boys for every girl.  If our daughter doesn't pick another one lad soon, her roommate (purportedly the daughter of a Playboy Bunny) may have to invite three.

I had grandma laughing as I joked about the need for back-up guys at crunch time.

So, friends, watch out (or look forward).  There maybe a new generation of cuckoldresses on the prowl.  Next thing you know, they won't be using those sorority paddles for purely decorative purposes.

Slave's Comeuppance

Sunday started out pretty normally here at the UCTMW World HQ.

Because of an early spinning class, Mistress deferred out traditional "wake-up sex" until after she was nice and sweaty from an hour on the faux bike, surrounded by a variety of socially competitive work out buffs.

"Some people actually have spinning 'outfits' and come all made up at 9 on a Sunday morning, Slave..."

"You look better than them au natural, Mistress."

I eased up on my Switch Day rights,  simply treating Mistress to some time with the her favorite power tool wedged between her thighs.  Then, once she asked permission to cum, and I gave it, Mistress allowed me to fuck her properly, much to our mutual enjoyment.

After that, there was another round of catch up with Downton Abbey via the PBS website, and a trip by Slave for provisions at the local grocery store. (Slave used a lapse in the upper crust twit Downton "action" to pleasure Mistress with my devoted lips and tongue. She seems to enjoy laying next to me, on full display. And its hard to resist the temptation).

We even fit in a brief nap, before heading up to our cute Co-Ed's campus to share dinner with her, bring up a Valentine's Day gift, and find out how her semester is going.

It's a short trip, so we were back around 7:30 pm. We watched a little more TV and paged through the Times when Mistress had a surprise announcement.

"Slave.... I've been way too lax on you these last few weeks, and it's not been good. You've become too surly...."

Moi, an uppity, Slave?

"What ever could you mean, Mistress?"

I tried to look shocked, but she's probably right. I have taken my "pampered house slave" status a little for granted.

"I think you know exactly what I mean....it's been weeks since I fucked you in the ass...then you raised your voice the other night, and you know what I think about that.... and there's been a little too much sarcasm of late.... tonight you're getting a spanking before bed time."

While it wasn't exactly clear what had led to this revelation, I was certainly not going to defy Mistress. After all, our life together is as good as one man could ever expect. And I am pampered...spoiled even.... I'm the guy who gets to go home with (and fuck) the hottest babe I know. It's been that way for more than 20 years. Pinch me!

We watched a little more TV. But when we elected to head to bed, Mistress gave me unambiguous instructions.

"Get out the crop, and get into position, Slave.  I'll take care of you after I get ready for bed.

Slave did exactly that, laying the crop at the foot of our bed.

And when she was ready, directing me onto my belly, she wasted no time laying about 10 hard wacks on my ass that made me squirm and yelp.

I'll confess I don't take these "like a man".

"No more surly, Slave..... have I made myself clear....."

"Yes, Mistress....."

When she was done, I feasted on those clean shaven folds, making sure she had one more cum before bedtime.  I'd be waiting until this morning for my own reward.

"Nice, Slave....", she said as she laid back on her pillow, seemingly purged of her annoyance at me.

'Can I expect a better attitude this week, Slave....."

"I will do my very best, Mistress....."

And I will.

A Tale of Two Cities

Here in River City, things are reliably calm, if a little bland,  this weekend.

The weather is  damp and chill. But the few inches of snow we had last week are long gone.

Last night after work, Mistress and Slave shared some drinks at a local bar with a colleague she wanted me to meet. Someone who found her on Linked In and wants her to get involved in a "start-up" he has imagined. He's a smart but bland fellow, and short. Not Mistress's "type" in a cuckold sort of way.

And the odd part was that he would meet with the two of us only on an evening when his wife was out of town.

"The less she knows about what I'm doing, the better...."

Well that's one approach.  I politely made it clear to this fellow that Mistress has no reason to hide anything from me.

"We've been married a while. And Molly has free range to do whatever she's inclined to do. She doesn't need my permission".

The guy's eyes seemed to open a little wider than normal.  But I'm not sure that he fully understand that what I was conveying was not simply about finance and employment. 

After we finished our beers / wine, Mistress and I headed home.

"So what did you think of him, Slave."

"He's not a total charlatan, Mistress. But he does have delusions of grandeur."

Actually, he seemed like a nice and earnest fellow. But it's obvious he has a crush on Mistress. Shame for him that he's not her "type".

Back at home, we still had time to catch the last episode of Season 2 of Downton Abbey via Hulu.  Mistress is enthralled with this soap opera, circa 1920, featuring a cast of English upper crusters and their servants. Slave is a little less amused, though I do enjoy all of the accents, and the archaic phrasing and social conventions. And when things get a tad too melodramatic, I can always slip to my knees and savor Mistress's clean shaven folds, fully on display and taunting me as she splays across the couch next to me in her short nightie, sans panties.

Yum. 

Bringing Mistress a lovely cum is much more entertaining than yet another round of longing and denial for the luckless Anna and Mr. Bates.

Meanwhile, in Boston and environs, they seem to be in the midst of Snowmageddon. 

We've heard nothing more from the randy cast over at ALL Mine since last evening. But we are deeply concerned. With more than 2 feet of snow overnight, and hurricane force winds, could it be that their power is off? 

If so, how will they post a blog? Or avoid freezing for that matter?

I asked our Director of Security to see if he could hack into the surveillance cams at their Cuckold Compound north of the City, and Bill found some disturbing images for the last 24 hours.

This one appears to show Suzanne surveying her kingdom in the early stages of the storm:

Nice boots. But be careful in that ice. It might not be as firm as it seems. 

But images from later in the evening and this morning raise some concern about the common sense of this trio when confronted with such wintery conditions.  Is this Tammy on "fluffing" duty?

If so, he seems to have lingered a little too long in his task.

And when Jay was finally prepared to deploy the Trophy Cock to please Suzanne.... well, maybe they should have kept the fun inside:

Let's hope they've been gently thawed and survived the night. We don't want them to loose and crucial apendages to frost bite.

Blizzard!

Here in River City we have some Irish weather today.... chilly and damp.  And since Mistress was leaving the house a little later than normal, it gave us some extra time in the warmth of our bed for some slow and lazy wake up sex. It was hard to disentangle myself, but duty called.

But we are deeply concerned about the well being of our friendly competitors in the blog-o-sphere over at All Mine. According to increasingly alarmist weather reports, a blizzard of historic proportions is bearing down on their cozy (if highly secret) hideaway somewhere in scenic New England.

No doubt panic is setting in, as all those reputedly hardy, flinty souls of the Northeast scramble to clear grocery shelves of milk, bread, eggs, and duct tape. I'll bet Tom Brady may be picking up the last available Spanx and ballet slippers at Target even as we speak. And for extra warmth, a certain football coach is desperately looking for a hoodie without the sleeves sliced off.

Of course, anything that happens in the Northeast, with its hyper-active media and chattering classes,  is far more newsworthy than the mundane goings on here in the heartland. Doing a little research, I discovered a whole page of photos on Google images about the "Great Blizzard of 1978". There was even a picture book on the subject.

I can remember the winter of 1978 and a blizzard of seemingly equal "horror" here in River City the week my first daughter was born. We sucked it up and took the bus to work! Can you imagine that?

And Mistress and I hunkered down and through the blizzard of 2012 in Illinois and Indiana a few weeks back in our aging AWD Volvo.

But back to our friends at All Mine, in the eye of the storm. With the snow and wind bearing down on them, I suspect that Tammy, Suzanne, and Jay have taken the day off, and will be hunkering down  until the road crews figure a way to rescue them.

Presuming they want to be rescued.

This would seem like a good time for the three of them to engage in some boundry pushing, don't you think?

In particular, maybe Suzanne should consider exploring what surely must be a secret fantasy of any self-respecting Cuckoldress / Domme: fitting her otherwise Alpha lover Jay with his own chastity device.  With a full weekend with no where to go, what better time to get those tender guy parts accustomed to the friendly confines of a cock cage?

I just wouldn't let him operate a snow blower with one of those infernal devices on just yet, Suzanne. At least not until he gets used to it.

And Suzanne, if you decide to take some time off from deploying Big Blackie for some other spontaneous winter sports, please dress appropriately. We don't want you to catch a chill.

Only a Week Left for Your Valentine's Day Shopping

 I'm wondering if Bill, our Director of Security International picked up on this gift giving opportunity in his home state.

North Carolina Jeweler Offers Free Shotguns For Valentine's Day | TPM LiveWire

Our Senior Correspondent Pitches Concept For Next Year's Super Bowl Ad

Donna, our Senior Correspondent, passed this dispatch along to share with her devoted followers!

 Please notice the attached photo. You may agree there is great similarity in the packaging of these very different items, and that may help you to understand how I knew it was Monday morning, even without the help of a calendar.

It was my own fault. Yesterday, while I was cleaning out the drawers in the master bathroom, the phone rang. I became distracted and didn't get back to finish putting the last few  items back where they belong. Then this morning, before coffee, I reached for a few of my regular AM items and things didn't go exactly according to plan.

First, I grabbed the smaller tube in the photo, put a line of paste on my toothbrush and as I made those first few brushing motions, I realized the texture was wrong and the taste was way the heck off. It wasn't Crest toothpaste. No, it was Preparation H. Ew! I was rinsing and spitting hot water for several minutes trying to get the taste out of my mouth. The good news is that my gum tissue isn't swollen or bleeding and probably won't be for some time to come.

Still spitting a bit, I took my shower, shampooed and fixed my hair. The day was looking up.  But then, as I spread the Oil of Olay Regenerist across my face, it seemed a tad more viscous than usual and very, very slick. There was a reason why. It wasn't my Oil of Olay, it was sex toy lube. While certainly not the first sex related fluid to land on my face, the surprise factor was a tad overwhelming. The good news is that my face feels baby butt smooth today.

In reading  back over this account of the pre-dawn, pre-coffee happenings in our home this morning, I see that I have left out a few choice words that I may have uttered after each event of misplaced product. I'll leave my actual word choice to your imagination. Bill, however, doesn't need to imagine because he heard those words loud and clear. In fact, my garbled yelling while the Preparation H still clung to my teeth was the first sound he heard this morning. And sadly, he had just drifted back to sleep when I sounded the "Oh, Shit!" in response to the lube on my face.

I could say that Bill wasn't amused, but that would be a lie. He was as amused as he can be first thing in the morning...to the point of doubling over, pointing and snorting as he laughed! And when he stopped laughing and said he wanted to find a way to help reset my attitude and to also express his deep appreciation for waking him an hour before his alarm clock, I knew I was in trouble.

Mr. Bill grabbed the ping pong paddle and his favorite flogger, had me lay across the end of the bed, and proceeded to really warm up my butt. There were swats for not finishing what I started, a few for my colorful language, a few for the look I gave him when he laughed, and a few on general principle.

Being a good Dom, a very good Dom, he really did know what I needed. And as he lay with his body on top of mine, his front to my red hot ass, I knew what he needed, too. I moved my butt against his penis just right, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist, and we continued on to the point that we both experienced an even better start to the day! Gotta love that!

Hugs,
Donna

Donna, maybe you can story board this for a Super Bowl Ad next year! I'm sure the folks at Preparation H could get some buzz going! 

Family Secrets

It actually snowed here yesterday... only a few inches, that the road crews handled by noon - but Mistress and her devoted Slave used it as an excuse to doing nothing much at all. Well, of course, there was some steamy morning sex before a trip to the gym.

And Slave did visit his cranky Mother at mid-day.  But the rest of the day was a blissful retreat to our empty nest, highlighted by some late afternoon fucking amidst the disheveled sheets of our bed.

And we even watched more of Downton Abbey. For Slave it's a bit more interesting in the 2nd season, with some of the characters off in the trenches in France. Maybe there are no vampires yet, but at least folks are getting out of the Manse a bit more, with the real world intruding. And it got me thinking about my own doughboy Grandfather, who drove an ambulance under General Pershing's command in the final horrific months of that war. We have his old WWI helmet sitting in our living room still.

Or did he?

Friday I was talking to a new acquaintance, who I discovered hails from the same musty Northeastern state capitol where I spent my early years. My family history is filled with tales of my Grandparents' minor role in an entrenched Irish Catholic political machine that ran the city for decades. The sort of machine that slipped easily across the border into what some of us now would consider organized crime in these more "transparent" days. Think Miller's Crossing if you are a fan of the Coen Brothers.

 The Party Boss who kept the city under his thumb from the 1930's until his death in 1977 was named Dan, sharing the surname of the famous Irish nationalist "Liberator" of the 19th Century.

This new friend and I started trading stories about our home town. He shared one I'd never heard before: that the machine's blue blooded front man Mayor - Erastus - who  held office over 42 years, from before WWII until the 1980's - may be the real grandfather, by way of a multi-decade mistress, of the blonde U.S. Senator who took the seat once held by a recently retired Secretary of State.

When I stopped by my Mother's Condo, I figured this was a better topic to chat about than which of her friends got sick or died this week.

"So Mom, is there any truth to the story that the old Mayor had a long serving Mistress, who's granddaughter is now a Senator?"

She claimed had not heard the name of her old State's latest US Senator, , but hardly seemed surprised by the yarn.

"All those guys had a girl on the side in those days...."

And then she went on to add some details of a different a story she mentioned to me once.

"You know, when I was born, Dan (The Boss) sent 3 dozen red roses to my mother's hospital room... she always said that it had the nurses gossiping .... "

"And how did you interpret that, Mom?"

"Well would it surprise me if Dan was my real father?  What do you think?"

She added some more detail, about how the local ward boss was always attentive when she asked for money to support the school yearbook. And how her purported father always had some small role in the machine.

And when her father (my grandfather) died  in the early 1950's, not long after I was born and after years of  suffering from the lingering effect of "The Hun's" mustard gas, Dan came calling. My mother overheard some of the conversation.

"He offered to pay all the costs of the funeral.... but my Mother was stubborn... she said no...."

"But he did get her a patronage job after that, right?"

"Oh yes.... she had to live on something....."

Here's a picture of Dan with Erastus in the 1970's.  (Of course, Dan is the short guy in the hat):

(There are only a handful of photos of record of Dan, all with that same fedora!)

I do remember my grandmother "going to work" everyday at some office in the old City Hall, always wondering what she actually did there.  My guess: Not much. But she was "taken care of".

I noticed a thick biography of the Mayor on my Mother's shelf and paged through it as we talked. Sure enough, there was a reference to the Mayor's legendary Mistress, Polly, the current Senator's grandmother.  My mother recognized many of the names, including Polly's husband, from the old Irish South end neighborhood.

So I borrowed the biography and last night delved into the chapter on the Mayor's "unusual" family life.

Turns out that he, Polly and her husband may have been in a classic cuckold relationship, before there was a name for it. After the Mayor's death in 1982, Polly gave a long interview to the author describing relaxed nights at home, the three of them, their kids too, lounging about, sipping scotch and chatting.

The Mayor spent little time at his own home, where his wife focused on an elaborate garden, shipping their two children off to boarding school. Instead Erastus was typically seen out on the town and at political conventions over the decades with the voluptuous, frank and earthy Polly, who seemed to be the only one who could publicly give the Mayor a good "talking too."

Here's a shot of the two of them in 1937, both on the right, front row.  He was a 28 yr. old State Senator then. She was his 22 year old newlywed secretary, who got her job (naturally) through Dan.

The Mayor was so close to Polly's kids, that he bequeathed them his insurance business (which no doubt prospered through his political contacts and clout as Mayor), despite a legal challenge from his wife and her children.

So what's the real story? Was Polly some throwback dominatrix, who, not unlike Suzanne over at All Mine, had a submissive husband at home, and a more Alpha lover who ran the City as the classic big fish in a small town, and who also fathered her children?

  Or, as she insisted long past Erastus's death, was their relationship purely platonic and political, with the Mayor hanging about simply because hers was the type of "normal" family that he did not have back at his own mansion on the hill?

And what about my own grandmother and Dan, the boss of bosses? Was he really my mother's father, and my purported grandfather the willing "cuck"?

Some family mysteries are more intriguing when left unresolved.

Tool Time

Last evening at home after a long work day, Mistress and Slave were huddled under our blanket in bed, catching up on emails, and contemplating when and whether to go downstairs to whip up a light dinner.

Remember me saying that it was warm here in River City on Tuesday?

Well the climate changed again, the hot flashes ended, and we are back in the deep freeze here again.

It was nice under those covers. Mistress was still in those black tights she wears to work, but had slipped a short midnight blue velvety nightie on to complement them.

Realizing that I had not performed my worshipful duty yet, I tried to make amends.

"Would you like me to worship, Mistress."

Rather than reprimand me for being a little slow on the trigger, she expressed reservations.

"That would be nice, but then I'd have to take off my tights, Slave.... and it's so cold!"

I pondered a second. It would be a little hard to get her off via tongue and lips through those tights.

But then I became a resourceful pampered house Slave.

"How 'bout I use the Hitachi, Mistress.  That would work through those tights."

It did not take her long to come around to my way of thinking. I just reached for the power tool parked under my side of the bed, thumbed it on low speed, and put it to work.

"ummmmm..... that's nice, Slave....."

Soon she was thrusting up against the chruning bulb parked between those tighted thighs, and Slave was enjoying all those little moaning sounds she produces.

The resulting  cum seemed a nice appetizer  for the dinner we had planned.

"That was nice... Slave...."

"Glad to be of service, Mistress."