Bon Voyage Sex

Slave came to ground today just west of Abilene, Kansas, the home of  Dwight David Eisenhower, who no doubt would be labeled a RINO by the scary remnants of his Grand Old Party. Mistress was supposed to be jetting to the far east as we speak, but a series of snafus by United "Airlines" left her, our daughters and my very pissed mother -in-law standing at the gate as the plane backed away. Hopefully they will have better luck tomorrow.

Suffice it to say that Slave could have driven them to Newark in the time it took them to get there from River City. 

But you didn't come here for travel whining, did you?

No, you want to hear about what instructions Slave has been given for this long separation.

First off, we did have some epic getting ready to say goodbye sex on Saturday. There was your robust wake-up sex. Then, after we had both done some chores and errands, we reconvened in Mistress's executive suite for a little more ritualized departure frolic. Mistress dusted off her strap-on and gave Slave a nice "so long for now" pegging, then allowed me to take her in more conventional fashion. Of course, Slave had to beg for permission to cum, which Mistress generously granted.

It was after the dust cleared that Mistress gave me my protocol while I am solo at our Southwestern Hideaway.

"Slave.... I know Suzanne will be disappointed, but  I'm not going to make you wear the cage for two full weeks.... You need to get your exercise, and the long drive would be too excruciating with the cage on...."

"But....?"

"I want you to wear it for any socializing.... when you go out to eat.... or hang out with our friends.... I don't want you to succumb to temptation.... I know how you can be...."

Well, if course Slave will not do any "succumbing", but I happily agreed to wear my cage for any outings where the opposite sex might be engaged. I suppose it's a shame Mistress has no trusted friend out there to act as "key holder" the way Suzanne's sister does from time to time.

And no, Suzanne, "Mattress Mary" does not fall into that category. At least not yet.

But what about the traditional "no touch" rule, you may ask?

"I know this may sound odd... but I want you to take things into your own hands once... but no more than once... each day. Send me an email everyday to explain how that is going....I don't want you getting too horny while I am gone... who knows what trouble you might get into.

"Uhh... yes, Mistress....", I said with a little surprise.

I think I am a pampered house slave, don't you?

After dinner we settled into a night of veging together, watching some TV, and clinging. We're not used to such a long sabbatical from our daily routines with one another.

And this morning, though I planned to leave at 7 am, we made sure to have one more session, with me worshiping Mistress, and, after she was pleased, me fucking her slow and hard for the last time for two weeks.

Now I'm all by my lonesome in some sleazy Super 8, and Mistress is sharing a room with her mom in Newark, hoping to leave tomorrow.

I already miss you, Mistress.

Banking Some Orgasms

Here at the UCTMW World HQ, we've been mentally prep-ing for two whole weeks of sexual solititude, starting Sunday morning.

Fortunately, our younger Co-Ed has a house sitting gig this week, which has left the nest slightly emptier, and given us a little more time and privacy o play.

Two nights ago, we somehow egged them into going out to dinner together (amazing what a Visa card will do), leaving us at home for a little mid-evening fun. And last night, I made sure to worship Mistress's clean shaven folds after she returned from a bike ride and I mowed the lawn. It was her second worship session of the day....

"I may be a little gamey down there Slave...."

"No problem, Mistress.... I'm not on a salt free diet...."

In fact I kind of like giving her a slow and sensual tongue bath after she's had some exercise in our hot and humid River City summer weather.

Mistress still hasn't decided on the protocol for our time away. Let's hope she does not go for Suzanne's suggestion of keeping her work-a-day cock locked away for two straight weeks.... that would be a lot of uncomfortable squirming on that long car trip out and back, and definitely cramp my ability to go on long morning bike rides. I mean.... she wants me to stay in good shape right?

On another matter, is there a chance UCTMW will disappear while she is gone.

Google sent our some ominous mail advising those of us with "adult" content that we may be cut off starting June 30th if we have elements attempting cash in on our smut. We have some commercial links here, but who knows how aggressive they might get. Are they going to look at all the blogs we link to? If some of those have commercial links, will that cause us to get the old heave ho? 

Some folks are migrating to their own web sites. Sounds like a lot of trouble to me. But clearly Google must be thinking they are tired of hosting all of us bloggers if there is no cash in it for them.

I've saved our "valuable" content, just in case.

Let's keep our fingers crossed and see what happens.....

HNT / Pre-Lunch Lick

Mistress's office is not as close as it used to be, so our chances for a little mid-day nibble have been limited. But today.... she had a meeting not too far from my office this am, and a lunch engagement a few blocks north. So she stopped by between appointments to allow her Slave the privilege of grazing through those clean shaven folds.

Hopefully, she left her a little more satisfied than when she arrived.

Mistress Has Some Decisions to Make

We have gotten back to a more routine sexual rhythm here at the UCTMW World HQ now that the big wedding is over and all those out of town visitors have bolted. I've made sure to worship Mistress's clean shaven folds on our return from work, and we've enjoyed some robust wake-up sex this week as well.

But the next challenge starts Sunday - Mistress and the two Co-Eds are joining her Mother on a two week trip to Asia. Slave will be driving west, for some solo time at our Mountain hideaway. There are some chores to do, a prairie dog problem to "solve", and  Mistress figures I will get into less "trouble" out there than in River City.

But one issue we have not resolved is whether Slave will be taking his cage, how and when it will be worn, and what the protocols will be with respect to the conventional "no touch" rule.

"Two weeks is a long time, Mistress."

"True, Slave.....one thing for sure.... Saturday you are going to get some serious ass fucking to remind you who's in charge."

So as Mistress contemplates how we will handle this two week separation, I (somewhat reluctantly) solicit any reader comments or suggestions on what the protocols should be.....

Shipping Snafu

We've been so busy with the nuptials here this last week that your Managing Editor let the UCTMW company credit card go unpaid which has created somewhat of a crisis. It seems our Western Correspondent, Miguel had ordered a replacement vat of his favorite lubricant and, as typical, put it on the company plastic.

But when it came time for shipment, Mon Dieu! The company that Miguel was relying on ran the card and.... well ... No cash, no slippery good times for the Western Correspondent. Maybe that explains why the WC has been a little miserly with his words this last week or so.

But hang in there, dude. Relief is on the way. A barrel of your favorite friction reliever is now in transit. No doubt you've got a little pent up demand. Direct the discharge properly and  you can help those firefighters quench those western forest fires!

The Deed is Done

Mistress and Slave returned to the UCTMW World HQ at around midnight last night, the accumulated weight of that Big Fat Celtic family wedding off of our load bearing shoulders.

Fortunately, there were no major social conflicts through a long and (ultimately) enjoyable evening. Despite my anxiety about thunderstorms interrupting an event that was staged outdoors, the dark clouds that loomed throughout the ceremony never opened on our little corner of the heartland last night, and Dad, who had lobbied unsuccessfully for a tent, could be safely dismissed as an old worry wart.

Maybe the deities do still smile on young love. Either that, or the Obama administration really does have a secret way to manage bad weather to its political advantage, as some Tea Partiers were muttering in the wake of Super storm Sandy last fall.

By the time a blazing sun had finally set, and the "Super Moon" was rising over a patio full of 20 and 30 somethings, incredulously dancing and singing along to 80's classics, it was clear the night was a great success - a nice mixture of an earnest tribute to the power of love and general silliness. It could even make a cynical old fart like your executive editor shed a tear.

As predicted, Mistress and our two daughters looked lovely and drew many comments of admiration. There were only a couple of old crones among the crowd who remained grumpy and distant, based on grievances now 20 years in the past.  They could easily be ignored. My grumpy mother made her appearance, and was surprisingly pleasant, though she headed for the exits not long after dinner was served. Maybe she had another engagement?

Once I got through my toast to the newlyweds, I was able to change from my sodden dress shirt and (finally) enjoy the comforts of the bar and a little Jameson.

Sunday starts with a sense of relief for the FOB, and, I am sure, for the newly weds.  Let's hope they enjoy the adventures ahead of them as much as Mistress and I have these last 20 years.

But of course, our adventures have many chapters ahead of us..... so, back to our regular programming.

15 Hours to Go...

Here in River City we have a big family wedding on deck this evening.

Seems like it's been years in the making, and Mistress and Slave have been counting the days and months until it's finally over.

It's the sort of event that can drag a whole group of people back into a swirling vortex of memories and  behaviors rooted in the past, and not all of them good. Like a mountain popping up out of the high desert, an event like this can create its own climate. So far its been mild and seasonable. But there is always the chance of a pop up thunderstorm or other hostile weather event. And there may even be some storm chasers on hand to record the event for posterity.

At a  casual gathering after the rehearsal dinner last night, I had one seemingly ancient woman remind me that I used to have a lot more hair, but that I look a lot better without the Fu Manchu mustache and sideburns I wore the last time she saw me. Who is this lady? Turns out she was the sister of my former mother-in-law from a marriage that ended more than 20 years ago.  One was tempted to ask..... why the fuck is she here, or even alive?

Then there was the former sister in law, looking 25 years older and barely recognizable who "greeted" me with the look that still said. "so here's the asshole who had the nerve to dump my sister!"

Mistress is handling the navigation of all my former in-laws with impressive aplomb. There are those who are now pleasant to her, and those who, after all these years, still pretend she is invisible. Thankfully, She is letting it roll off like the beautiful and secure Mistress she is.

And the cute Co-Eds were dressed to their head turning best last night, making us both proud. The older Co-Ed's boyfriend drove into town from upstate NY for the affair, which no doubt made her happy, while once again complicating sleeping arrangements here.

Of course, last night was just a taste of things to come this evening, at a wedding scheduled for the outdoors at a local park in some steamy start of the summer river valley heat.

I'd better get to polishing the details of my toast, and then head upstairs to tend to Mistress's clean shaven folds,  grateful that by 11 pm tonight this will all be over and we can retreat to the relative solitude of the UCTMW World HQ and get back to what we do best....

Spanking in the name of Jesus?

AS predicted, Mistress and Slave have been slogging through a stressful week following our return from our little beach getaway. Work has been demanding, and we've got the much anticipated wedding of my 2nd daughter come Saturday. More on that later this week.... but all the planning, organizing and angst over colliding families and sensibilities makes me recall why our wedding (the 2nd for both of us) organized as a last minute surprise for a select group of family and friends was much more enjoyable than this type of formal set piece.

The saddest part is that Slave had an unscheduled abstinence day yesterday, because I had to get up way to early to drive one of our Co-Ed's guest from across the pond to the airport.  By the time the day came to an end - following dinner here for my getting married daughter and her fiance, Slave was way to fried for any nookie.

Luckily, I'm anticipating getting lucky in just a few short minutes, before we kick it into high gear for another brutally scheduled day.

I did want to leave you with this piece I stumbled on about a couple in a "domestic discipline" relationship who have somehow connected it to a Christian lifestyle. Spanking for Jesus.

Sounds as if these folks are not too far afield from the discipline that Tammy "enjoys" over at All Mine, or that others in the sex blogosphere write about. But instead of lending an erotic charge to their efforts, somehow they've based their use of the spoon, hair brush or palm on some notion that a good Christian woman needs to submit to her husband, and that the husband is free to use those means necessary to enforce that submission. The blog entry I read makes it clear that for these folks, it's not about sex, foreplay, etc. It's just to show who's the boss.

Yuck.

Why do we have to introduce God and mandatory gender stereotypes into what might otherwise have some erotic fizzle? Plus it  seems to remove  the consensual notion of the whole arrangement, which in my mind turns good sexy fun into bad and cruel abuse.

They have a blog, linked in the article, where they purport to explain their lifestyle. Am I missing something here?

Another Rough Day....

Two a Days. Bike ride. Afternoon in bed when the rain rolls in. Then back to the beach for a sunset al fresco dinner. We won't bore you with the details.

Have a good Father's Day, all. I know one pampered house Slave who will!

Corsets, Whips and Whiskey

Mistress and Slave had one of those decadent days that you try to file away in your memory banks to fall back on when the going gets rough, and the stress levels rise.

First there was some robust wake-up sex here in our little hideaway, after Mistress slept in and Slave wrote the blog and brewed some coffee.

Then a long bike ride in bright sunshine and cool temperatures in a gentle breeze coming off the lake. We pedaled through rolling countryside to a perfect little Midwestern town, oozing Americana, for a breakfast of some eggs, hashbrowns and thick, smoky local bacon to die for. (Well the pig died for it. All we got was a little extra cholesterol to work off on the ride back).

But as we left the charming old main street restaurant, with its red white and blue bunting, all decked out for flag day, I noticed this poster for an event we might want to come back for:

Is kink spreading to the heartland faster than we thought?

Once back from our ride,  our mobile offices adjourned to  the beach, where we kept of the pretext of being "connected" to clients and colleagues whole basking in the early summer sun.  It's amazing what you can accomplish with an I-phone and no shame! Although I do wonder whether that one client could hear the sound of the waves in the background.

The sun was in no mood to set anytime soon, but we wandered back to our room at around 6:30 pm in any event, with a little more sunburn than I had hoped for.

After showering off the sand, we slid back under the sheets for another round of nookie, with Mistress riding her cock to a couple of cums before allowing her Slave to indulge himself. It was nice to get back into the ryhthmn of "two a days."

Yesterday Suzanne wondered whether we had packed the cage. Well, no, actually. Mick is like one of those free range chickens this weekend. Since Mistress can keep close watch on her cock, she has dispensed with it's containment device.

Soon we were off to dinner at a little Armenian joint up the highway, still festooned with the T-shirts and bumper stickers touting the immigration status of its owner. Will Ibrahim ever be freed? Tune in again next year.

Not bad for a Friday, particularly when you can look forward to a Saturday when the "mobile offices" can shutdown.

"I could get used to this, Slave...."

No doubt.

Mistress and Slave Slip Under the Radar

"Let's act like we're having an affair, Slave...."

That's our theme this weekend.

Cloak and dagger.

Surreptitious.

We've decided to slip out of town and remove our cyber-feetprints for a few days.

Well, expect for our kids, and you.... our mystery friends in sex blog land.

On the work front, Mistress has a rather insane boss who, no matter how well she performs, always wants more. A later than usual lunch hour this week produced a "where are you" text message.

"She stalks me on facebook and linked-in, Slave...."

Mistress does not like being tracked down.

For me its the extended family. After months of my nagging, my reluctant sister decided this was the week to deposit my cranky Mother in an "independent living" facility. I made it clear that my schedule for this weekend was set. I spent the morning at her place yesterday assisting the packers, and disposing of trash that should have been tossed years ago, learning that my mother never threw away a twist tie or jar top in 20 years.  Did you know that pantyhose once sold for $1.99. She has unopened packs to prove it.

That plus the upcoming theatrics involving a daughter's wedding next weekend.... well, we needed to escape, without the groans of disapproval and eyerolls that more facebook posts from the happy couple at the beach or in some funky restaurant would generate.

So while my sister is now seeking cyber back pats on facebook by posting about the joys of spending the weekend with my mother in her new digs, Slave has absconded with my Mistress to a secret hideaway, where no one but you, dear readers, realize that we are avoiding all responsibilities and wallowing in libidinous fun.

We slid out of Mistress's parking lot a little after 1:15 pm. I was planning on doing some rearranging, plugging in phones, etc. in front of her office, but no.

"Let's get out of her fast, Slave. I don't want anyone to see that I'm leaving."

"Yes, Mistress."

By 6:30 we were here. heading out on a short but lovely bikeride along the bluffs overlooking the beach.

By 7:30 we were in bed, Slave feasting on those clean shaven folds, and indulging in a long session of fucking Mistress to our hearts' (and other body parts) content.

At dinner, a little roadhouse around the corner from our Inn, I was tempted to take one of those pictures of my fetching Mistress, toasting with her Scotch on the rocks, that would be suitable for facebook.

"No Slave.... remember..... let's just pretend we're having an affair this weekend.... it's our secret."

But at least not from you folks.

Seeking Privacy

Here at the UCTMW World HQ we've had some problems getting the privacy to which we've become accustomed. And even though the boyfriend and the visitor from across the pond are now gone, there is still the cute Co-Ed around, just down the hall, watching netflix in the evenings, with or without her ear buds on.

Add that to the fact that we have a big family wedding coming up next weekend and the masses that will assemble in conjunction with that .... well, it seems like a good time for Slave and Mistress to flee for a little R&R for a few days before the unwashed and intrusive masses descend. We've reserved some chambers at a favorite Inn  just off the big lake to our northwest, and I've loaded our bikes on the car for a quick mid-day escape.

Of course, the theme of privacy - or the lack of it - has been all over the news this week. A 29 year old computer geek without a high school degree has fled his $200,000/ yr. job as a consultant for the NSA to the freedom loving environs of the People's Republic of China, from whence, over hotel room service, he's disclosed that his former masters  have been accumulating Multiple Zetas of data that might allow the government to figure out who we have ever called and when, ever  since the advent of the I-Phone.

And then there's that whole internet thing: tracking the emails and web traffic of "foreigners" to see if we can discover what those pesky terrorists are up to, and where they might strike next.

It made me realize that as a world renowned sex blogger with a vast media conglomerate and an international following (of sorts), the NSA likely has somewhere in the bowels of its dingy data mine a detailed history of Molly, Mick and all of the commenters who have graced these pages.

Could it be that some of the comments have been coded messages from one "bad guy" to another?

Does the comment "nice ass, Molly", really mean, pick up the plastique at 3 am in the dumpster behind  the bar on Penelope Ave. in Fresno?

Do references to "vats of lube" really mean drums of depleted enriched uranium for a dirty bomb?

Could NSA "analysts" employed as independent contractors by some international consulting company like Booz Allen be spending vast quantities of  billable hours admiring Molly's ass?

Maybe we should all be paranoid about this  vast expansion of government data collection in the name of the war on terrorism.

But you know what?

I don't really care.

We already know that by setting foot in and laying tracks on the cyber-world we've opened ourselves to the prying eyes of corporate giants like Google, Verizon and Facebook, and to the cyber stalkers and lurkers who might like to exploit our freedom of expression.  It's no secret that Google's systems track our emails and pitch us ads based on their content. Facebook does the same. So do the pages of websites like the New York Times and the Washington Post that we frequent.

So the notion that our cyber-conduct is being monitored by "Big Brother" should hardly be a surprise to anyone.

Is it different that Big Government in addition to Big Corporate is doing the data collecting on us?

Potentially.

Certainly the power could be abused to monitor political rivals or punish dissidents, as happens in China where the liberty loving Mr. Snowden now hangs his hat.

But we've seen no sign of that abuse here, at least so far. And who can blame a government expected to protect us from the next 9/11 to use the tools available to at least try to do that.  After the Boston Bombing the political finger pointing - "why didn't the FBI prevent those losers from doing this" -began even before all the blood was mopped up at the Marathons finish line.

Finally, we all know what to do if we don't want to be tracked by the snoops at NSA, Google, Facebook and the rest.

Unplug.

Eliminate or reduce your cyber footprint. Cut the blogging, facebooking, and tweeting.

Reintroduce yourself to your local mailman, newspaper or book store.

They sure could use the business.

And that would free up a lot more time for sex.

Waiting for the Thought Police to knock at the door,

Mick

Executive Retreat

With a house full of Co-Eds, Boyfriend, and visitor from across the pond over the last few days, Mistress and Slave spent more than a few hours holed up in her Executive Suite. It gave me a good opportunity to do what I do best - graze amongst those silky clean shaven folds. And Mistress was more than generous when it came to opportunities to fuck her.

Sunday morning, Slave deployed Mistress's favorite power tool, figuring she deserved a respite from my avid lips and tongue.  It seemed that it took her no more than about 60 seconds to "power on" and over the hill once I applied it as intended.

"It's so efficient, Slave."

So true.

And later in the day, when the neighbor's obsessive power vac-ing drove us from our deck, we retreated again, with Mistress directing me to insert "your device", that little aneros, to provide her with a particularly firm cock for her amusement before we headed off to a graduation party for the daughter of a friend with our children and the one remaining guest in tow.

Last evening after a long work day and a stop at a political event, we got home at around 7 pm, with plans to hunker down and watch "Mad Men". We walked into kitchen bedlam: the Co-Eds had decided to make dinner for themselves at home (good - better than another night at Chipotle). But the bad part was the disaster zone that was disguised as our kitchen.

"Let's just hide upstairs, Slave...."

I grabbed two glasses of wine and followed her upstairs, leaving the chaos behind.

There we were, barricaded in the executive suite one more time..... what to do?

No doubt our daughters think we are incredibly boring

Never Trust a Woman With an Assault Rifle in a Bikini

Slave made it home late Friday afternoon, and the breaking of my long streak of sexual abstinence occurred at approximately 7:30 pm Eastern time here at the UCTMW World HQ. It had actually been since Tuesday morning, in retrospect, because of some ridiculously early wake-up and get home times last week. Hopefully the coming week will be much better.

Both of out daughters have house guests this weekend. The older Co-Ed's boyfriend is here, but they've been keeping a low profile, with one night spent at a friend's house closer to the fun night life. And last night, they went out to dinner and got home after the old farts went to bed. If there was some bed sharing it happened while we were sleeping, because I noticed he was in the fold out bed solo on our ground floor this am.

Hopefully no one was too awoken by Mistress and Slave enjoying their first wake-up sex in here Saturday morning.

Mistress did "confess" that whilst I was out of town she spent some time over at her former lover Jay's house drinking some wine out on his desk while his son entertained himself inside.

"There was a little making out again Slave, when he walked me to my car.... but that was about it."

Jay seems a tad confused about how to handle Mistress.

But today's headline is not about Mistress, of course. It's about a woman who caught our eye last weekend, when news broke that some Texas man, former Army, had been arrested for sending threatening letters laced with ricin to the President and the Mayor of NYC.  At the time there was a link in the article to their respective facebook pages and we were amused to see their rather strange predilections laid out for all the world to see and "like". He was into guns and "freedom". She claimed she was an actress with roles in "The Walking Dead"and other bad TV shows. But what caught our attention was this photo of her:

This and other photos on her page had a very dommish look to them.

"Do you think she gets powder burns on her cleavage, Mistress?"

"Not sure, Slave...."

And I wonder how accurate you can fire off a few dozen rounds wearing those heels. Let's hope the recoil is not too intense.



We don't shoot much here at UCTMW, relying on Bill our Director of Security for any "wet work" of that type.

The story at the time was that Shannon Guess had gotten suspicious of her husband's activities, and contacted the FBI when she read about these nastygrams that threatened bodily harm if either the President or the Mayor stopped by to pick up his arsenal of firearms.

Now the story is that she's been arrested for framing the husband, and father of her 5 kids, even going to the trouble of planting a few extra castor beans (from which ricin is derived) in his trunk. And, even worse, it turns out that no one at "Walking Dead" ever heard of the lady. "Producers Never Heard of Ricin Suspect"

If the government really is snooping on our facebook pages as some now claim, they clearly weren't paying close enough attention to this lady. Or maybe they just got distracted.

At least I'm hoping that this photo provides a little fodder for the WC now that he's on the long road to recovery from the excesses of World Masturbation Month.

Desperately Awaiting Reunion With Mistress

We've been pretty quiet here the last few days because Slave has been off to our nation's capitol visiting   one of my older daughters who is leaving her current job for further life adventures.  They gave her an amazing send off, and she was nice enough to let her parents participate.

I'm lucky to be a guy who gets to see and watch a child do amazing things.

Before leaving town early Thursday morning Mistress and Slave had a particularly stressful 24 hours or so, so our normal dosage of sexual release was missing. Yes, I made sure to worship Mistress Wednesday evening after we got home later than normal, but there was none of the post worship fucking that usually follows.

So, by now, its been more than 2 days since the normally pampered Mick has the proper discharge of pent up bodily fluids. I know.... you're all feeling sorry for me....

Before I left, Mistress and I had the "cage talk". She would have liked to have me securely locked up here. She knows that in my earlier days, there was more than one babe here in the hothouse of our nation's political life that I was accustomed to calling on after a busy work day for a little nooky.

But that was many years ago. Slave's cleaned up that particular act.

It was also before there were metal detectors in airports and all these official buildings. And yesterday I was definitely in high security country. They even did something funny with my I-Phone at one entrance. Maybe they thought I was a spy?

Can you imagine what those guys would have done if the alarm went off as I passed through the metal detector and their wands found a big lump of steel wrapped around my privates?  I'm not sure my daughter would have been amused.

Mistress pondered whether  I should bring my cage, to put on and take off when security was not an issue.

Ultimately she gave me a pass. But it does make me wonder if I should get a plastic device for back-up on such occasions.

So Mistress simply imposed the no touch rule, which, despite some folks' scepticism, has been rigorously followed.

I just hope my flight gets out of here on time this afternoon, because I am already desperately anticipating this evening's encounters with Mistress once I finally get home.

Western Correspondent MIA?

Despite the fact that his seminal work here on such matters as ass fucking still continues to draw clicks at UCTMW, we've not heard much other than the occasional snide comment from our Western Correspondent lately.

(In fact, this post about Slave Positions from the WC is the all time leader here, with more than 7100 views; this one about taking a lady's behind comes in 3rd with more than 6200 views.)

This led our Senior Correspondent Donna to speculate that there may be some concerns about Miguel's health, as shown by this cute little e-card she just passed on:

But at least we know that if this is the WC's excuse for not sharing much of late, it's not because he's been doing too much keyboarding.

Sleeping Arrangements

Mistress and Slave tried to do our best to make up for a buys week, and an even busier week to come by lolling in bed a bit longer yesterday morning. There were morning papers to peruse, but it wasn't long before Slave deployed Mistress's favorite power tool to ply her clean shaven folds for a lovely mega-cum before I exploited my privilege of fucking her with robust abandon.

By the time we were done, it seemed our morning had been very well spent.

After that there was a nice bike-ride in unusually cool summer sunshine, breakfast out on our deck that Mistress prepared, and a variety of home and yard projects for me. We even crammed a nap into the late afternoon fun before I prepared dinner for Mistress and our two cute Co-Eds.

Both of them have guests coming later this week. The older one has his frat boy boyfriend coming for a weekend visit. The younger one has an exchange student from England coming in with plans to attend some huge music festival in Tennessee the following weekend.

Mistress is the consummate planner around here so she was already disclosing the arrangements she planned to make for our house guest.

"Georgia can sleep in the blue room upstairs. And I'll get linens out for Mike for the fold out couch in the room in the basement".

But this got Co-Ed No. 2 all a twitter.

"She's 21 you know...."

The implication was that our older daughter should be able to decide where and with whom her boyfriend will sleep.

I was a little startled, since We've never attempted to dictate sleeping arrangements with our teens, even when the oldest was still in high school. There were many nights when her boyfriend would spend the night in our lower level without any barriers placed to prevent a visit from our daughter after the parents adjourned to the executive suite. At the same time, Mistress made sure that she was fully contracepted. (is that a word?)

"No one's going to be checking on who's in who's bed.... just that .... well....."

Slave had a little trouble articulating our variation of the "don't ask, don't tell" policy with both of them sitting there, and the oldest, who was the purported subject of this conversation, making no comment at all.  I mean, I didn't want to say "If and when she so desires, your sister can sleep with her boyfriend downstairs, where they won't have to worry about waking up the boring parents in the next room."  But I suppose that's what I was saying. There are some details a father just does not want to know about the sex lives of his daughters. Just like the daughters don't want to know about the sex lives of their parents.

The younger sister wasn't getting it though... sticking with her theme that we had no business suggesting that Mike's "place" would be downstairs when he visits this weekend.

So, dear readers,  you have one more example why we miss our empty nest. Any thoughts on how Mistress and Slave handle this conundrum?

Former Lover Check In

Yesterday afternoon we headed home from work a little earlier than normal. But our plans for a pre-dinner bike ride were aborted by a big assed thunderstorm, the forward edge of those storms that have been barreling through Oklahoma and Missouri over the last day.

But that did give Mistress and Slave some time to rest in the "executive Suite" before we took our younger Co-Ed out to dinner at some trendy urbanista taco joint as we had promised.

"Do you mind if I get naked, Slave?"

Now that's a silly question.

"Of course I don't mind, Mistress...."

Just as she was settling down with her laptop next to me on the bed, her I-phone gave off that little buzz. Mistress seemed tempted to ignore it all together, but then she noticed who was calling.

"It's David....wonder what he wants?"

(David, as some loyal readers may recall was one of Mistress's "cougar week" lovers, last fall. He's the guy with the tatoos who lives in our older Co-Eds campus town, about an hour away. Tatoos. Compelling sex. But... a somewhat sketchy background that made Mistress a little cock-shy, shall we say.)

Mistress was curious, so picked up the phone.

Slave could only hear one side of the conversation of course.  But the gist seemed to be... "Hey, I'm coming to town this weekend, want to get together?"

Mistress's tone was sly and seduction in explaining... "Well.... unfortunately I've got a full house this weekend.... two kids back from college.... but maybe we should find another way to get together again soon...."

After she hung up, she commented that he probably wanted to spend the night here while going to some event in the City.

"It would be a convenient crash pad for him, Mistress.... but for our young and curious girls... might be a little hard to explain who the 30 something guy with the tatoos is that was sharing your bed."

But at least David's call gave Mistress a little something extra to fantasize about as I proceeded to worship those lush clean shaven folds.