When International Media Celebrities Collide

Mistress and slave have been agonizing over the last 24 hours over our impending abandonment of our idyllic lifestyle here in our SW hideaway. Of course, there has remained plenty of time for wake-up sex, cock riding, and post afternoon nap worship. And a few nights out on the town too.

But on Monday afternoon there was one of those rare moments of intersecting celebrity that I felt important to document here on the pages of UCTMW for our expansive, devoted and world-wide audience.

Our little village has a tiny organic grocery store - the kind that offers home made pesto, gluten free pasta, frozen free range chicken thighs, ground bison, locally sourced greens, and "free trade" coffee beans from obscure towns in Central America. Plus the long haired dude in charge will make you a smoothie on demand.

Slave stepped into our little grocery to pick up some tomatoes and coffee Monday afternoon, noting that there were a small group of other customers in this tiny, three aisle market. Two women in their 40's and three cute little kids, all with with really expensive haircuts.

There was one lady with reddish brown hair swooping to her shoulders and oversized, black framed glasses. Our eyes met briefly, and I had one of those "oops" moments.

Was this another one of those embarrassing incidents where one of our vast public recognized me as an internationally renowned sex blogger? I quickly averted my eyes, hoping that she would not recognize me, let alone make some sort of provocative, overly personal  comment that would "out me" and make others in the store take notice.  Like....

"Aren't you Mick Collins?  Is this a cage day, Mick?"

Fortunately, she was discrete, just giving me a vague nod of semi-recognition as she felt up a hand picked, chemical and additive free avocado that retailed at $5/piece.  I suppose it could have been a little odd if she questioned me in front of her cute little kids about how Mistress's hunt for a part-time Dom was going.

Slave fumbled with the plastic bin that dispensed the locally roasted chocolate and pinon infused coffee beans (only $15/lb.), letting them dribble into the unmarked brown bag.  I figured 4 oz. could last until the end of the week and kept my head down.

Of course, I recognized her too.

She was dressed down, sporting a "plain folks" modified Erin Brokovitch look, presumably to avoid recognition by the riff-raff. She has a second (or maybe 5th?) home across the pasture from our house that we've known about since she married that C&W crooner, Lyle Lovett,  about 15 years ago. Now she's married to some camera man named Danny, with whom she's had those 3 cute kids.  We've seen her about town from time to time, at the bookstore, on the slopes, or dancing side by side with her on a New Years Eve as the band played "Drift Away."

What's nice about being an internationally renowned media celebrity, is the bond that exists betwixt all of us other inhabitants of the celebrity bubble. So when we run into one another at a tiny little organic food market, we tend to give each other a little nod of recognition in order to  minimize the threat that the little folks will take notice of the vertitable gods or goddesses among them.

But I'm not so sure Julia could have contained herself so discretely if Molly had been shopping with me.

Easter on the Mountain

Unlike so many Easters past, our Easter here in the Sangre de Christo Mountains did not involve baskets and Easter egg hunts with our cute girls. Instead, it turned out to be a rare "adults only" Easter - with a fresh dusting of snow to smooth our way across the mountains.

Of course, no "adults only" Easter would miss some "fucking like bunnies" as a substitute for watching the little ones discover the goodies in their Easter baskets. Our version involved the deployment of Mistress's favorite power tool as a good way to launch the fun in our sun dabbled bedroom with it's mountain views.

And while the daffodils are certainly blooming back in River City in our tiny little yard, here the cold nights have kept the blooms off the trees. The only real sign of spring in our yard here so far  are the plump little prairie dogs  that can be seem scurrying about conspiring to dig up our yard yet again.  Argh!

So while skiing and the renewal of Easter may seem incongruent, it was certainly fun for Mistress and her slave to enjoy the sunny mountain trails before heading back down for some late afternoon sunning on our patio.

The only semi-downer on our day was my alma mater's  unsurprising loss to the Tar Heels last night in the round of eight. I was fortunate that we had already scheduled an Easter dinner here with some friends, so pouring drinks and grilling some salmon forced me not to focus on the slow but relentless beat down of the Irish by the clearly superior team from NC.

Sometimes a Number 1 seed deserves the ranking. And over-achievers come back to ground.

But back here in the Mountains, we all know who the Number 1 seed is, don't we?

Ride, Mistress, Ride.

Mistress was in a feisty mood yesterday morning.

I had risen early, catching up in the news, writing yesterday's blog, and brewing some coffee. When called back to bed, I made sure to utilize my tongue and lips to provide her with a little starter cum, than apparently only whetted her appetite for more.  While her work-a-day cock was already primed and ready for action, she insisted on having a little appetizer before the main course.

"I want to suck my cock now, slave."

Who was I to object?

After teasing her little plaything to the very edge of an existential crisis that would have spoiled any further fun for her, she climbed on board for some enthusiastic cock riding.  And while the UCTMW staff videographer had the day off in honor of  Good Friday, this helpful pirated video gives you a sense of what transpired next:

Rest assured that Mistress took all the pleasure that some wake up cock riding could provide, and then generously permitted her passive slave to have his fun too.

Then it was time to stagger from the bed to handle some work chores and phone calls with clients back in the "real" world.  Bummer.

At some point, with the sun in full but the temperature still in the 40's here at 7000 ft., I sought out Mistress, only to discover that he had already settled down for some pre-skiing sun worship out on our patio. As you may be able to detect, Mistress already has added some bronze to her skin tone. As she emerged from the shower yesterday evening, her tan lines are already emerging after a winter of gloom in the heartland.

Nothing like a head start on summer while enjoying the final snows of winter.

It Takes A Village

Here in our high desert hideaway, Mistress and slave have been slowly bouncing back from our 3 am phone call earlier in the week, and the low level anxiety burn about our daughter in Brussels. She's back in the city now, trying to get back to her normal routine, and telling us not to watch the alarmist reports on US television news.

Good advice, no doubt.

Mistress and slave are trying to get back into our normal routine too, with our traditional wake up sex, some work on the phone or at our computers, then some skiing, then an afternoon nap followed by some worship to tide over Mistress's sexual requirements. Last night's evening activities involved Mistress participating in a local public radio "radiothon" to support the local county animal shelter. Being a "cat person" Mistress was more than happy to lend her deep and sensuous voice to the cause.

The "radio station" was actually an airstream trailer out on the Mesa - a flat expanse of sage brush and prairie dog villages that stretches out from the mountain range behind our house to the deep river gorge 15 miles to the south. And the airstream is parked in the backyard of a funky brewery and performance space that some locals have constructed in the wide open spaces.   It may be the micro-brewery with the vest view in America (though I've not been to Bend, OR).

The crowd last night at the brewery looked like a casting call for a movie set in the '60's about the Haight Asbury scene in SF. Apparently this is where all the hippies moved when the rents got too high in the bay area.

But today's headline is not about micro-brews and hippies, but was triggered by something that Terri over at A Married Sissy said yesterday.   His wife Diane got home late from work and bluntly informed Terri that he should mark down an orgasm for her on his daily "Chastity Report". (This slave would be embarrassed to do a chastity report because there would be so few entries reflecting my denial, but to each their own!)

Terri knew his place, so did not ask the "who, what, when and where"  concerning Diane's particular cum O' the day. But he speculated that her lover Paul had provided some oral pleasure at the end of the day in the privacy of Diane's office.

And this seemed to raise some jealous impulses. Apparently Terri believes that he should have a monopoly when it comes to providing oral sexual pleasure to his wife. As opposed to more traditional sexual intercourse, which he may consider to be the proper role of a cuckolder / lover like Paul.

Now it may not be unusual (and in concept it has a certain hot factor) for a cuckolder and / or wife to limit the cuckolded hubby to non-penetrative sexual services, I've never heard of any corollary, i.e., that the cuckolder should NOT be allowed to provide oral sexual pleasure to the wife. After all, don't some alpha guys enjoy the occasional opportunity to reduce a woman to a quivering mass by the simple use of lips and tongues? If the shoe was on the other foot, I certainly would!

Nor do I have that particular jealousy gene.

Mistress's own occasional lovers have always seemed to enjoy that privilege, and Mistress has reported her enthusiastic enjoyment of  their oral attentions when and if provided. She has an apparently bottomless sexual appetite, and sometimes it's a team effort to satisfy it. ANd those clean shaven folds are mighty tasty and tongue tempting.

I like to think of myself as a team player. And like any NBA "role player" coming off the bench  to spell a star player in foul trouble, who am I to object when said star gets to score from a variety of places on the floor while I am on the bench?

To pervert a phrase made famous by a certain Presidential candidate, it does take a village.

Night On the Mountain

Mistress and slave had a stressful day yesterday, commencing with  a 3 am phone call from a daughter "studying" in Brussels. In a shaky voice she reported to her half asleep father that  1) bad shit was going on; and 2) she was safe and secure. We admire her tenacity and "it's not about me" attitude. But it was a sleepless, scary night, which will no doubt lead to several more months of nagging fears about an off-spring far away in a dangerous part of the world. Luckily, she is safe, and now out of town for a few days as the dust settles.

So yesterday was a rather "fun-free" day for Mick and Molly (believe it or not, we didn't get around to sex until late afternoon). But we hate to let our readers down,  so let me roll back the clock to our Monday night here.

We had skipped skiing for the day, to take care of some annoying client service matters. But we made plans for dinner and music up on the mountain with some friends. Of course, our dinner companions know nothing about our kinkier proclivities, which allow for the occasional tease.

Example: The lady of the couple notices a bruise on Mistress's wrist.  Mistress explained that sometimes the silver native american bracelets she wears will cause these sorts of tell tale bruises.  But slave interjected:

"Are you sure those aren't handcuff marks?"

Sadly,  my snarky comment went over the heads of our dinner companions.

Later we adjourned to the rathskeller of a charming mountain lodge, where one of our favorite musicians was playing.  It was his last weekly gig there this winter, with the ski season winding down. The crowd was varied and festive - locals and ski-weekers from out of town. 

For some of the guys there, Mistress was compelling bait.  But because I was not sitting next to Mistress but next to our male dinner companion, I apparently missed all of the attention Mistress was attracting.

I did notice the guy who sat next to Mistress, chatting her up as the music played. Later, Mistress informed me that he was an electrician who spends winters here, with a wife back in Chicago. he was a handsome guy, maybe in his late 40's.

"B ( a female friend who knew this guy) said he wanted to know who I was. I think he was disappointed when I finally introduced you as my husband, slave...."

"No doubt, Mistress."

As the hour approached 11, we knew it was probably about time to leave. We stood by the door, listening to one final Bruce Springsteen cover. I guess I was more focused on the music and the whirling dancers to notice Mistress's next come on. She reported it to me as we walked down the hill, back to our car, the trail lit by the full moon.

"Did you notice the big guy in the flannel shirt, slave? The guy standing by the door".

"No Mistress, did I miss something..."

"He said he was disappointed I was leaving, and had wanted to get me to dance with him...."

"Bummer. Another missed opportunity."

As my friends who share the "cuckold" gene can confirm, the sort of flirtatious behavior that might annoy the crap out of some husbands just seems to fuel the imagination here at the UCTMW World HQ.

Mistress Chokes.

It was another heavenly day of ample sunshine, warm temperatures and uncrowded slopes here in the high desert. And it's even better on a Sunday when Mistress and slave don't have to slavishly monitor their I-phones while riding the ski lift ,to create the impression that they remain attentive and engaged in that alternative work universe.

And of course before we hit the slopes there was sex. Slave even unwound the extension cord and plugged in Mistress's favorite power tool to give her a nice shuddering cum before taking advantage of her weakened state of consciousness.

But back to the slopes. The blue skis. the well groomed cruiser runs that make you feel like Spider Sabbitch or Suzie Chapstick. All the stars are aligned for an epic day.

And then, Mistress's big opportunity came. As we crested a rise at the top of the mountain and prepared to slide off the chairlift, there HE was -- casually strolling in his red and white ski patrol jacket, walking two cute mountain rescue dogs.  It was Mistress's fantasy Mountain Man, the guy who holds the USA record for "bagging" Everest. He works here in winters between guiding treks to Denali, Kilimanjaro, the Antarctic, and Nepal. Mistress and MM  are "intimate" facebook friends, and on our last trip here he even gave Mistress a little hug and kiss on the cheek when she chatted him up after his world spanning slide show and lecture.

Was this karma. A chance to follow up, maybe finagle an apres ski beverage?

This is how things unfolded:

Slave: "Is that him, Mistress...."

Mistress: "Uh....ummm.... I think.... uh, yeah.... that's him...."

(Chair hits apex where it's time to unload.... Mistress and slave slide onto the snow, dodging one cute dog).

Slave whispers an aside: "Say hello, Mistress..."

Mistress:  "Wow.... I....not sure..... ...."

(Uncertain, Mistress slides past MM, gaining speed on her skis as the window of opportunity slams shut.)

Slave:  "Hey [first name of MM].... nice dogs...."

MM: "Yeah.... great aren't they....."

(Of course, MM doesn't know who the fuck slave is....he's only talked to Molly in the past)

When I caught up with Mistress I politely asked why she didn't say anything to her fantasy MM.

"I didn't want to be a stalker slave...."

"But you weren't stalking, Mistress ... he was right there... in front of you.... you had to turn to avoid running right into him...."

By now Mistress was recovering from the jittery knees and flush that no doubt started somewhere betwixt her clean shaven folds. She was apparently too embarrassed to hike a little ways back up the hill. And MM was now bringing the cute dogs into the ski patrol HQ adjacent to the lift. Heading back to say "hi " would clearly have been stalker-esque at that point.

Poor Mistress.

Another missed opportunity!

Seed Swap?

Here in our little corner of heaven, Mistress and slave have been thoroughly enjoying the weekend. At about 3 pm on Friday - when the work day ends back in River City - we breath a joint sigh of relief knowing that whatever client demands there may be we can fob them off until Monday morning.

That meant a little more stress free time for Mistress to lounge in the sun, before our late afternoon nap time. And after the nap....well the freedom from work stress triggered a second round of love making for the day, with Mistress engaging in some rather rowdy cock riding to power through an extra cum or three before the dust settled.

Friday night was our "night on the town" for the weekend.

First there was dinner at a cute local Trattoria which offers Mistress's favorite - crispy crusted gluten free pizza, dressed "St. Patrick's Day" style, with green pesto rather than red sauce.

Then we headed to an ancient, low ceilinged  cantina, to hear a local rocker we follow when in town. This hole in the all joint attracts a rather scruffy but diverse crowd, that runs the gamut from native Americans to cowboys to lesbians, and a rather bizarre assortment of costumes to match. But the big surprise was that as the band was still setting up, the TV screen over the bar was tuned to the final minutes of my alma mater battling through its first round game in the NCAA tournament.

I have become so jaded about my team's "one and done" hex (last year was an exception) that I didn't even bother to set aside time to waste  witnessing their typical first round bust.  I had checked the score at halftime over our pizza to confirm my suspicion - yes, trailing once again by double digits to a lower seeded team.

So I was stunned to see that the score was now tied, and to watch my team build a lead with some timely defense and clutch free throw shooting as the seconds tick away. The luck of the Irish lasted to the day after St. Patrick's Day! That and watching the locals bust some rather unique dance moves in their unusual regalia (the super-sized native American lady in the neon red track suit was my favorite) more than made a great way to kick off our weekend.

But what about today's headline, which no doubt attracted the attention of Terri over at a Married Sissy and any of our cuckold-centric readers?

Driving into town the other day, the local radio mentioned an up coming "seed swap".

"Wow, Mistress, are they going all kinky here in the high desert on us?"

Our imaginations ran wild at the thought of those rugged local ladies bringing their submissive male partners in to some local venue, where drinks, dinner and a silent auction awaited, followed by an opportunity to sample  whatever exotic discharges might be "on tap". Variety is the spice of life, after all. And a little preliminary fluffing couldn't hurt, right?

But alas. When I paged through the local paper the next day, this city-slicker discovered that a "seed swap" was something much less kinky, and far more agrarian.

You can imagine my disappointment.  But the kinkier version a concept worth trying out for your next non-profit fundraiser, dear readers!

But remember, always engage in safe seed swapping!

Mistress Sets a Personal Record

Mistress and slave started the day with some early morning rituals here in the high desert: that started with slave sliding beneath the sheets for some sunrise worship, and culminating with some robust wake-up sex.

Of course, we did have to pretend to be in touch with our clients, sending out emails and conferring by phone.

Annoying.

It's certainly convenient to be able to work remotely. It allows us a lot of time away while keeping our checking accounts above water. I mean how do you pay for an internet connection (two of them) to write a sex blog, or children lolling about Europe for their final semester, without  a little gainful employment. But damn.  When the sun is out here, and the snow abundant, or even thin or non-existent, who wants to deal with clients?

After sluffing off a few "emergencies" to others, slave and Mistress headed up the mountain for a semi-serious day on the slopes. But after about 9 lift rides, with the sun still blazing, Mistress made her real desires known.....

"Why not just have lunch at home out on the patio, slave?"

her preference is a slave's command, right?  So we shed the skis, headed back down the mountain and within about 5 minutes, Mistress was stripped down to some cute pink undies and spread out on her chaise.

It may be a personal record for Mistress's first sun bathing day of the season (other than during our brief sojurn in Florida when it was a  year round exercise).  I mean, there's nothing that says St. Patrick's Day like a good schmear of sunscreen, right?

Mistress read her kindle a bit, but was soon snoozing in the sun, allowing slave to take this surreptitious photo for  Mistress's many fans. I post this risking some punishment, because it shows Mistress's tempting curves without their typical golden tan.

But you have to start somewhere.

Rising and Shining

Mistress and slave made it safely to our little SW hideaway by late afternoon. It was a long travel day and a nap was in store after we put away our provisions.

But we surprised ourselves with the energy we had for some post-nap sex as the sun set over our mountain.  Another abstinence day dodged just in time!  And this morning, well.... there is nothing like some leisurely wake-up sex before turning our attention to the slopes, is there?

But  today's blog is really a shout out to my ancestors who took to the Dublin Streets 100 years ago in the name of liberation from the royal boot. It's no accident that my nomme de sex blog here at UCTMW pays homage to  one of those legendary men who stepped into history on March 17, 1916 to begin the bloody "Rising" that finally created the Irish Republic.

Men and women  of a variety of nationalities will find themselves quaffing a few too many across Continents today in the name  of that Saint who has come to symbolize the Irish nation But  it's worth recalling that some courageous ladies and gentlemen had other things than sipping a Guinness or Jameson 100 years ago today!

Early AM Flirt

Even as the dust is still settling from the hotly contested primary season in River City, Mistress and her devote slave are heading west for two (hopefullY) blissful weeks at our SW hideaway. The snow has been melting a bit in recent weeks, and there may be too many spring breaking Texans on the slopes for our personal taste. But what the hell! It's better than the office.

We had a way too early flight this morning and are now languishing in ATL. But when you are a cuckold you take little bits of pleasure in what some guys might consider "fighting words".  Here is an example:

This morning at our gate Mistress noticed a group of guys who had "professional athlete" written all over them, from their designer sweats to their highly stylized dreds. We quickly surmised that (for whatever reason) several members of the Pussycats, our local never quite get there NFL team would be on our flight.  We aren't the types who ask for autographs, and simply kept our noses on screen as we waited to board.

We were in steerage, so as we stumbled down the aisle carrying our bags, Mistress preceding me, the First Class cabin was already full. Although it was early, Mistress was looking her best, in a black dress and black cowboy boots. Travel wear, but hot travel wear.

In the last first class row, sitting on the aisle was a vary large bearded AfAm guy, who I recognized as one of the Pussycats rather aggressive defensive lineman, none for his pass rushing ability.

Mistress's eyes met his, and words were exchanged. Mistress paused, and I could hear Mistress giggle a bit, and saw him smile, as she moved down the aisle. It wasn't until we settled into row 23 that I was able to ask Mistress what had transpired.

"So what was that about, Mistress?"

"Oh he was just flirting, slave."

"What did he say?"

"He asked if I'd rather sit next to him instead of the guy who was already there...(another team member, though built more like a D back)."

So how would all you other cucks (and non-cucks) react to this early am come on?

Yes, Mistress. She's Hot.

It was an abstinence day for slave yesterday.

It was one of those days when Mistress had a ridiculously early Monday morning meeting. No time even for some wake-up worship.

At the end of the day the sun was out and we opted for a nice sweat inducing bike ride before dinner. Slave did apply his lips and tongue to Mistress's clean shaven folds before preparing dinner. But Mistress considered it appropriate to defer any sexual release for her slave until this morning.

As is her right? Right?

We did engage in a little post dinner TV watching before adjourning to the Executive Suite, catching up on the latest episode of Billions, on Showtime. We've mentioned that show here before. It's the first mainstream show I can think of which somehow melds a Femdom marriage into an otherwise conventional plot line. Maggie Siff plays the psychologist wife of Paul Giamatti, an otherwise nasty and overly aggressive federal prosecutor. But when the doors close at home, the tables are clearly turned.

Last night had the couple out to dinner with a saccarine sweet, lovey dovey vanilla couple. At home, Paul whines about how tedious their dinner companions were. Then Maggie lowers the boom:

A nice hard cuff gets Paul back into the proper mind set.  Then Maggie parks him on the bed and tells him with a gesture to "stay":

I think he got the message.  Sadly, the scene is just a tease. The action resumes in the morning, with Maggie waking late in a bedroom with all the toys of a night of hardcore D/s sex strewn about. Handcuffs in the bed. Crops and rope scattered about the floor.
With that suggestion of what transpired while their kids were sleeping, it was back to the main plot line about sleazy hedge fund managers and the abusive prosecutors on their trail.

Obviously, slave was impressed.  And disappointed that  so much was left to the imagination. Mistress took note.

"Do you think she's hot, slave?"

"Well she is hot, Mistress."

This was not a subjective judgment.  Maggie Siff is objectively hot in this role, don't you agree dear readers?

"But she's hot like you Mistress.... always in black.... dark long hair.  She's you, without the darker complexion!"

Mistress looked at me very skeptically.

But it's true.

Breakfast With Benefits.

Saturday took an unanticipated turn here at the UCTMW World HQ yesterday morning.

It began like a typical Saturday morning.... some robust wake-up sex in Mistress's "executive suite". Then we were off to some of our typical activities.  Slave had time scheduled with my cute grand kids, then  visits to the grocery store and my fading mother at her nursing home.

Mistress had scheduled a breakfast meeting with her Lover Jay.... and I use "lover" somewhat conditionally these days. Jay's has a problem with his ankle, and ongoing problems arranging for child care for his son. So it's been a few weeks since Mistress and slave actually got together for anything other than a chaste meal or a meeting over some mutual business activities.

"He's dropping by at 9:15, slave and  we are walking up to [a local greasy spoon diner].  Then he's got to go pick up his son."  Mistress had lunch with her mother scheduled after breakfast with Jay.

I did my "fun with grandkids" routine. A trip to a local donut shop and then visiting a  playground downtown for a couple of hours. Then dropped them home and headed to my next stop. It was around 11:15 am when I called to check in on Mistress. But . . . no answer.

"Hmmmm..... I wonder if Mistress persuaded Jay to linger after breakfast?" I thought to myself.  That's the benefit of the empty nest. No daughter lingering around or potentially stopping by to interfere with unscheduled fun.

Confirmation of my suspicion came about 30 minutes later, when Mistress rang me back.

"Sorry slave.... but Jay and I were having a 'quickie' when you called....."

"No problem.... how did that evolve, Mistress?"

"He had a little extra time before picking up his son, slave.... so there was a little oral worship and then some actual sex before he left...."

"And where was all this happening, Mistress? "

"Up in our bedroom, slave.....I'm still a little disheveled....no pants or panties....just here in my top and bra."

"Poor Mistress.... that's a lot of sex for one morning."

"It was, slave....,"  Mistress conceded, with a little giddy giggle.

She explained the quickie unwound the way Jay like's it.... him standing and Mistress on the side of the bed, legs spread and available to him.

"I guess Jay's ankle is feeling a little better, Mistress?"

One does need some leverage using that position.

"It seemed to be working pretty well, slave...."

Later, once I was home, Mistress and her slave headed out for a nice bike ride on a spring like afternoon, and then lazed about in our bed before a neighborhood party.

But one thing was clear, Mistress had her fill for the day.

"I'm guessing that sex is off the table this afternoon, Mistress?  Sounds like you've had enough for one day."

"That was a busy morning slave....."

But she did allow her slave to gently  salve her well worn clean shaven folds with my skilled lips and tongue.

Yum.

Cuckolding in the White House?

Before we get to our provocative headline, let me pause briefly to mark the sad passing of this year's tights season here in UCTMW Land.  After (hopefully) a final blast of winter last week, warm weather has returned to our quaint river valley here in the heartland. Slave's been able to ride his bike to work, and Mistress has declared that her tights have been put away until next November.

It's a shame in a way. Slave certainly has a lingering fetish for Mistress in those smooth, silky black tights that she wears during the winter months. But when she appeared at my office on Wednesday before we headed to dinner downtown with some friends, she was back into the bare legs / black boots look.  Rest assured I made sure to provide a little late afternoon worship before we headed out into a warm, rainy night on the town.

Now, onto another subject....Mistress and slave have been binge watching the latest season of House of Cards, the dark political thriller starring Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright as a first couple so manipulative and cynical that they make our current crop of Presidential candidates look like characters from Sesame Street.

There have been a few choice moments of sexual adventure over the past three seasons: Frank providing some skillful oral worship while a young female reporter talks to her father on the phone; Claire in bed with a NYC artist lover; and a brief three way with a loyal secret service agent.

But this year, Frank and Claire have plunged full bore into the world of cuckolding, with Frank indulging his wife's flirtation with a much younger novelist / speech writer. The episode we watched last night ended with a tableau familiar on a few occasions here, and maybe in the homes of some of our cuckolding compatriots.

After getting "permission" from her husband, Claire has a White House sleepover with her younger lover. And there they are in the morning, in the kitchen upstairs in the Presidential residence, all quietly sharing breakfast:

Living the cuckold dream!

Accommodations For An Aging Slave

It's been a laid back and slightly dull week here in River City.

No early morning lover visits.

No ski break (at least until next week).

Just some work and a few evenings at home binge watching the latest season of "House of Cards", which, sadly, is replete of kinky sex this year.

Of course, Mistress and slave have enjoyed some satisfying wake up sex. And Mistress has been worshipped at the end of the day.

Speaking of worship, slave has noticed a persistent nag from his aging body.

Our typical worship position is Mistress laying on our bed, and slave wiggling down to align my face with her tender, clean shaven bits, my legs and hips off to the side.

What I find after my task is complete is that my right hip is tight and stiff, and a bit painful as I try to straighten it in order to exploit my opportunity to "have my way" with Mistress. Of course, one advantage of this position is that my cock gets to friction against Mistress's firm and shapely leg while I am doing my worship.

But boy, that hip gets ouchy.  I suppose it's time to look at alternative worship positions.  There is the face ride:
 But would that put too much stress on Mistress's back?  Obviously, we don't want to make her do the work.

There is kneeling as Mistress reclines comfortably on the bed or couch:


And maybe a special chair:



And there is always the possibility of some custom made furniture, though this would seem pretty uncomfortable for the recipient of a slave's devoted attention:

I suppose one option would be to recruit a surrogate worshipper. But that would deny me the opportunity to enjoy the personal satisfaction of worshipping Mistress. I would be curious to hear how the rest of you suggest I handle my  tender hip while sufficiently serving Mistress' s needs.

Night On The Town

Mistress and slave have had a laid back weekend here in River City.
On Friday evening, slave came home at the appointed hour and made sure Mistress had some early evening worship.

Then we were off to a local watering hole owned by a friend that features a jazz vocalist on weekends. It is one of those romantic, well lit joints where Mistress could feel comfortable wearing some sexy black tights and a black dress that displayed her fit and shapely legs to best advantage.

We know the owner of this joint, who joined us for a while on a cozy couch not far from the music.  M is about Mistress's age, and has an Irishman's charm. Mistress has looked on M with an admiring eye in the past.

"He's kind of handsome, slave....."

"No doubt, Mistress...."

And for his part, M has never been shy to comment on how lovely Molly looks to him. Just polite complements, right?

In any event, M was sitting next to Mistress and we chatted on a bit about his new joint and local politics.  Mistress and M were clearly enjoying each other's company. At some point Mistress excused herself to go to the ladies room, and M said he would take the opportunity to follow along.

Now this is where slave's imagination can run wild.

What if J and M were now cornered in some back room, exploiting each other's mutual attraction?
I pondered the possibility that there was an owner's office in the back, where M might even now be spreading Mistress's firm thighs, his tongue and lips enjoying the privilege that slave had so recently exploited.

Or maybe Mistress was popping open M's trousers, and sinking to her knees to provide some pleasure of her own?

Slave's little bubble burst when Mistress returned, unrumpled, and looking freshened instead.

But of course I shared my little fantasy with Mistress.

"Oh slave, it's a nice thought, but I think M is happily married.  He's never come onto me other than some innocent flirting....."

"Well, it's the thought that counts, Mistress....."

"True, slave... true."

Tuckered Mistress

Slave quietly slipped out of the house yesterday morning, after consuming a bowl of cornflakes and strawberries.  I did not try to creep up the stairs or listen at the keyhole to catch any "live action" as Mistress and K went at it.

But rest assured that my cock cage seemed particularly tight as I dusted some light snow off my windshield and climbed into my car for the short drive to work.

I hunkered down at the officer and finally heard from Mistress at around 10 am.

"Well he's gone, slave.... and I really would rather go back to sleep now, but I have to get to work myself...."

Luckily, Mistress had scheduled a "work from home day", so she did not have to go through the transformation from well fucked Mistress to polished professional.

"How's the cage, slave?"

"Tight, Mistress."

When I arrived home at around 5:30 pm (I was not in the mood for late work) Mistress was back in bed, wearing her sleek, tight fitting black riding pants and jacket, though it seemed the damp, blustery weather had conspired to keep her inside all day.

Fortunately, the first order of business was to pop me free from that tight, confining cage.

"Poor slave..... were you frustrated?"

"You could say that, Mistress".  I mean it had been nearly 36 hours since Slave's last opportunity to enjoy his privileges with Mistress, and there was the extra stimulation of Mistress's early morning caller.

"Did you tell K I was in the cage, Mistress."

"I did.... he seemed.... amused.....and asked who's idea it was, mine or yours."

'What did you tell him?"

"That it was sort of both of our ideas, slave...."

(I guess she skipped the crowd sourcing part).

Mistress slithered out of her riding pants, and It was not long before I was in my proper position, tasting the sweet juices betwixt Mistress's firm thighs. And as I savored the mix of Mistress's natural flavors with those left behind by K, she downloaded a bit of her morning experience.

"It was actually pretty conventional, slave.... him on top.... but my body is pretty sore.  He really pounded me."

"Poor Mistress...."

"He did have a fantasy he recounted....something involving him arriving while you are fucking me, and then me sucking his cock...."

"Hmmmm..... I suppose we can get around to that, Mistress.... his wish is our command, after all."

But there was something else I wanted to get around to first.  Fortunately, and despite her tender body, Mistress was very accommodating.

Turning Mistress Over to Her Early Morning Lover

Slave is sitting here in our downstairs kitchen, eating breakfast, and listening to the Donald railing about little Marco Rubio on Morning Joe.

Meanwhile Mistress is upstairs in the UCTMW Executive Suite in the skilled hands (and other body parts) of her lover K.

Rest assured that slave delivered on his part of the deal.

Cage On.

Check.

Serviced Mistress with those experienced lips and tongue, up to the very brink of orgasm.

Check.

I showered and dressed before 7:45, K's scheduled arrival time.

And he was punctual. I saw his BMW pull into the drive from our bedroom window.

"Does he drive a BMW, Mistress?"

"Yes, a black one, slave."

"Well then, he's here."

Mistress had ordered me to keep the door unlocked for him.

"He'll let himself in, slave."

There was a little uncomfortable small talk about the day ahead as we waited for him to find his way up the stairs. I was standing beside the bed, dressed now, Mistress all tucked into our warm bed, with nothing on but a very see through black nightie.

The one I got her for V-Day, only a few weeks ago.

"Maybe next time I should tie you to the bed for him, Mistress....."

"Slave!"

But there seemed to be  a bit of a blush at the thought of it.


We heard footfalls on our creaky steps. Then K strode into the room. He's a tall (maybe 6'2") rugged looking guy in his 40's.  Still plays hockey and looks the part of a sleek aggressive forward on the ice.

It had been a couple of years since I had last seen him in person. There was a dinner and sleepover a while back, in our old house.

K and I  shook hands.  What else do guys do?

He seemed comfortable with the situation, an easy smile, dressed in "business casual", a waist length jacket over a button down shirt.

Mistress was in bed, giggling a bit.  Basking in the attention and the circumstances. Clearly happy to have her husband and lover in attendance at the same time.

"I got her ready for you, K...."

He just smiled.

"Mick wants me to give you his number, K. So he can send instructions."

"Actually, so you can send me instructions....."

"Not a bad idea", he said, eyeing Mistress in bed, presumably contemplating what lie beneath the covers.

I explained I was heading downstairs, eating some breakfast, then heading to work.

"So I'll leave you to it....."

As you might expect, I will be looking forward to Mistress's "read out" later this morning.  In the meantime, that cage seems mighty tight.

Deferred But Not Denied

Monday was a bit of a circus here at the UCTMW World HQ.

Mistress and slave had a regular work day, with Mistress out the door very early. There was no chance to have our traditional wake-up sex.

Then we also got drafted to host a family dinner for daughters, grandkids, my niece and her new child. So we raced home from work duties to prepare and serve dinners with smiles on our faces.

And we were also hosting said niece and baby for the night.

Plus I had agreed to accompany one of my older daughters to a concert downtown.

Lots of balls in the air and all those moving parts had both of us exhausted by the time we went to bed. It was one of those very rare days when poor Mistress had no chance for even a tongue induced orgasm.... a rare and very big goose egg on the cum calendar! (If there was one).

Slave slept a little later than normal on Tuesday morning, and Mistress had to get up earlier than typical, so there was a very tight window of opportunity for any wake-up sex. Slave barely had time to sip his coffee before heading back upstairs to make sure Mistress did not have another goose egg to start her day.

And things were going well.... Mistress was given her starter cum with slave's highly skilled lips and tongue. Slave's work-a-day cock was eager and fully deployed. . .  But.... the baby woke and was crying.  Mistress's alarm went off....  It was not to be.

"Sorry slave.....our time has run out....."

Oops.

Slave was left with a hard cock, and a long work day ahead.  I suppose I was fortunate that Mistress did not require me to wear my cage to prevent any "self-help".  But she had no reason to be concerned about a violation of the "no touch" rule.  I figured there would be some time at home at the end of the day before we headed out to a political event.

Sure enough, when slave arrived home, Mistress was back in our bed, and our two house guests were out at a dinner with friends.  The window of opportunity was re-opened and Mistress and slave took full advantage.  There was some robust cock riding, and slave was able to feast where he had famished only hours earlier.

So all things "came" out well in the end. Delayed, but not denied.

When the dust settled, Mistress and slave had a chance to talk about tomorrow morning's scheduled get together with K.  They've been texting about their plans, and Mistress was willing to share a little about their communications.

"So what are his expectations, Mistress?"

"I told him you'd be here when he arrives, but would be going to work thereafter, slave...."

"And what about your state of preparation?"

"He knows we will NOT be having sex beforehand...."

"But I do get to warm you up, right?"

"Yes, you do Slave...."

"Does he know about the cock cage?"

"Hmmmm..... I'm not sure I've mentioned that ..... at least not yet...."

I'll be curious to know whether that will be our little secret, or if Mistress let's know K that her husband will be on lockdown while he enjoys the privileges of her lush and sensual body.  If he is as pervy as I suspect, that might be an extra turn on for him, don't you think?

Now I'd better shut down here, and make sure there is plenty of time in bed this morning to avoid the tragic events of Tuesday morning.