Scraping the Bottom of the Ashley Madison Barrell

We are back in River City, grateful our drive through the (very) Smokies was a day before all hell broke loose. We have gotten back into our daily sexual rhythms, with wake up sex and evening worship.  It's a good life!

But on the cuckolding front, Mistress is about ready to give up on AM as the way to identify a back-up sidedish.  Maybe it was the whole security issue that has limited the choices available.  Or maybe Mistress has just become more discerning (or more cynical?) about the guys who turn to AM in an effort to "find the passion lost" in their marriages, relationships, or life. After all Mistress just wants someone to have a little extracurricular fun with.... she doesn't want to be a therapist.


As her designated corresponding secretary, it's been my job to act as the filter on her AM account. I try to show her only the missives or photo requests that could possibly draw her attention, or at least get a good laugh. That means in excess of 90% of the potential applicants end up "trashed".  The grounds for rejection are multiple and varied: too short (should be at least as tall as me, 5'11"); too large; too old (Mistress already has one mate in his 60's) ; too young (no 20 or 30 somethings); too whiny about his sexless marriage; too far away ( rejected if you come from more than 50 miles away); too likely to be a pussy grabbing white supremacist Trump voter.

After Mistress takes a look at the profiles or photos of the remainder, another 90% of the remainders get rejected.  She is picky, as she should be.  There is one more "date" set up for drinks after work tonight with a single guy recently moved here. After that.... well maybe Mistress's profile goes dark once again, at least through the holidays.

The only downside will be missing the applicants who generate some blog fodder. Like the late 50's guy from KY who recently tried a contrarian approach to get Mistress's attention....the "you're too old for me".  Here is his message:

Good morning!  Although your profile sounds very interesting I am finding that women over 42 years of age cannot keep up with me I'm not saying we could not have a good time Just that usually older women have a little less stamina and  with my conditioning I do have a lot of endurance and stamina if you know what I mean :-)  if you check me out and you're interested let's at least chat your town is a very easy drive for me if you're available in the afternoons ?  Who knows we might become best friends both in and out of the bedroom ! 

To summarize, this guy's come on is "even though I'm older than you, you're probably too old for me"!  You can imagine how that went over with Mistress.  And she didn't revise her opinion when she caught a glimpse of the selfies this scrawny old fart sent with his message.  Here's an example:

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Is that a scar, or a centipede crawling up his "6 pack"?

I guess one thing I will miss if we go dark on AM is the blog fodder it generates!

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CENSORED!

Mistress and slave went into family exile for the holidays, leaving the Dowager Domme, our whiny sisters, and various and sundry other extended family members back in River City for a weekend on the lam in sunny Savannah. The excuse was a visit with our daughter and her boyfriend. But it was certainly liberating to spend a few nights in a very plush historic Inn and avoid the hassle of serving yet another big meal to an unhelpful crowd that has become too accustomed to our hospitality.

Rest assured that there has been lots of R&R time in our upgraded suite, so that slave has delivered Mistress more than a few cums these last few days. And slave has hardly been denied himself!  It turns out that not preparing a meal involving turkey and stuffing may be the ultimate Thanksgiving aphrodisiac! That and some of the local oysters!

The only downside has been the local internet service provider used by our Inn. Can you imagine my shock when I pressed the button to get to our Blog page only to learn that it was blocked as PORNOGRAPHY!

Moi, a pornographer?  Say it isn't so! I think we run a very R rated blog here!  We never cross the line into appealing to purely prurient interests. And I always discretely cover Mistress's clean shaven folds with a delicately placed zebra tail or something equally artsy! Add in the occasional political commentary and we have at least some redeeming social value at UCTMW, don't we?

Fortunately, I was able to retrieve our mobile wifi device from the car in order to connect with our demanding audience to assure you that we have not yet been interned at Guantanamo. Apparently Verizon doesn't have such discerning standards

Unscheduled Abstinence Day

Mistress and slave are passing through the very smokey Smokey Mountains. on a journey to visit our cute daughter and her boyfriend in GA for Thanksgiving.  Anything for an excuse to dodge to tired ritual of the big family dinner with all that cooking, whining, and slackering by  extended family members. So many  love to chow down at our table but always find ways to resist any impulse to pitch in when it comes time to clean up.

 This is a particularly good holiday to dodge the ritual big family feast. No doubt there will be plenty of bickering and finger pointing at Thanksgiving Tables throughout America over the results of the Presidential election here in the US.  Did you support the bigoted blowhard? Did you not embrace with sufficient enthusiasm his entitled, prevaricating and seemingly disengaged opponent? Did you "waste" your vote on one of the more idealistic third party candidates?  The options of blame are endless.

We are  anticipating dining out with two young ones not particularly focused on the political havoc, and visiting a town along the shore that is steeped in history. I mean, can the ascendance of Trumpism rival the mayhem of the Civil War and Grant's March to the Sea?

I guess we will find out soon enough.

In the meantime, lets clean up some missing details following Mistress's sleepover date with Jay on Sunday night.  I left you hanging with Mistress locked away in our bedroom with her lover early Monday morning.

As it turned out, Jay had to leave very early. Once he was gone, Mistress invited me to return to the marital bed.  But there was no nookie to be had.

" After all that hard fucking I'm pretty sore down there, slave.....you'll just have to wait until later."

Fortunately, she was willing to accept some morning worship before I headed for work.  Some soothing attention from a skilled and attentive tongue couldn't hurt, could it?

And the up side for slave, despite stirrings from below the belt that could not be immediately satisfied, was savoring the tangy mingled detritus of Mistress arousal from the night before and what her lover left behind.

Yum.

I went off to work a tad horny, but with the expectation that satisfaction might be on the horizon at the end of the day.  But it was not to be.  I had scheduled dinner with my daughter and cute grandkids, while Mistress did some work and packed for our trip.  When I got home around 8 or so, we adjourned to the bedroom.  But there was no hanky panky beyond some additional palliative worship.

"I'm giving you a rain check slave.....I have to say I am still tender from last night."

"Sounds like Jay had some pent up demand after all those weeks of hiatus, Mistress>"

"Definitely. He did that thing where He fucked me standing up with me at the side of the bed.  I'm surprised you didn't hear us."

Not to self: next time go to bed early and turn off the TV.

But don't feel too sorry for this pampered slave.  By Tuesday morning, Mistress was "good to go". And slave was more than ready to break that long, horrific  48 hour abstinence streak.

Switch Morning and Date Night

Mistress got plenty of "action" Sunday. Consider her "tag teamed" by both her slave and her extracurricular lover, Jay.

WE started with a rare exploitation of slave's "switch day" privileges. Mistress was bound face down on the bed attached with those red leather bondage cuffs locked on with tiny pad locks.

"I can't believe I just let you do this to me, slave....."

Maybe it's because she likes it?

I had been wanting to try out a new implement of "torture" Mistress brought home from her trip to Africa last summer..... a flogger made from zebra tail hairs.  With her in no position to resist, I discovered that what first just tickles evolves into something more complicated....

As I applied the flogger to Mistress ass and thighs she began to squirm and thrash quite attractively.

"Owww.... it's staring to sting, slave...."

I got a rise from her as the tail teased and slapped at those naughty bits between her legs...

"Ouch.....that kind of hurt, slave....."

But this wasn't a punishment. Not at all. I slid Mistress's favorite power tool betwixt her spread thighs as I continued to lash her with the tail, producing some delightful squirming and clenching of those strong yet supple butt muscles of hers.  But pleasure seemed to quickly turn to frustration.

"Oh....I don't think I can cum this way, slave....."

"Poor Mistress..... are we getting frustrated....", I said as I applied a few more strokes to her ass and thighs.  She really was working herself up into a lather of arousal, humping the Hitachi, with relief apparently just beyond her reach.

Of course, slave is merciful, so I ultimately succumbed to her pathetic requests to be flipped over onto her back and given her due.  Once she was reattached to the bed, arms and legs spread, I used the tail on her thighs and oh so swollen clean shaven folds, producing a whole new range of gyrations. But by then I knew I was playing with fire.....Best give Mistress her release before she began plotting to turn the tables when she first had the chance.

Rest assured that once I applied the hitachi as she demanded the results were a rather incendiary sexual meltdown. And Mistress, still bound to the bed, was in no position to prevent her devoted slave from "piling on" and taking my own pleasure from her helpless and very well satisfied body.

But a slave's life is not all ice cream and bon bons.

Now I'm in our daughter's bed, while Mistress and her lover slumber in the "executive suite".  Slave had planned dinner at home last night, but when Jay arrived last night it became clear that after several weeks of separation, he and Mistress were more inclined to a private dinner out, sans slave.  No problem. The fish went into the freezer, we shared a pre-dinner beverage, and then the two were off to to local restaurant.  I was most content to make something for myself after a cold afternoon watching the Pussycats drop another one to a mediocre opponent.

Mistress and her lover returned from dinner at around 9 pm, and quickly adjourned to bed.  There was some catching up to do, and both of them had early morning engagements.  I suppose I could have been nosy, and gone to bed too.  That would have given me a chance to hear their late night machinations.  But instead I lingered downstairs to watch some bad TV.  They deserve their privacy after all.

And I know Mistress will be happy to provide a full after action report once Jay slops off into the dark this morning.

Back to the Drawing Board....

Here in River City, Mistress and slave have been slowly adjusting to the 6 hr. time shift and the notion that our nation will soon be under the thumb of a narcissistic blowhard with an itchy trigger finer and a penchant for locking up folks he disagrees with.

So at least one distraction has been dabbling in the quest for a new (or additional) side-dish to amuse Mistress and cuckold her slave.  There was a prospect- an outdoorsy type about Mistress's age who lives up the road a bit.  We had exchanged emails while we were overseas, and Mistress set up a lunch "date" with him yesterday.  But the report was not so good....

"He's nice enough slave....but a little dorkier than I would have expected...."

"Any spark?" (i.e. that de rigeur spark of attraction that must accompany any suitable side-dish).

"Not really slave....he clearly liked me... said I looked hotter than my pictures....but I must say there was no spark on my side of the table for him...."

"How did you leave it with him?"

"Told him that I'd have to 'think about it'".

Not what one wants to hear from the Ashley Madision hotty he's been courting, is it?

Ah well.....  there were a few "Plan B" suitors we may need to consider.  Then there was some 37 yr. old who got in touch via our "Slave on the Lam" twitter account... He asked if we wanted to "hang out" some time, and aspires to be a cuckolder. I politely responded to him that we were probably too old for him....But he was non-plused:

"Age is a number to me. I love older folks".

Why does that sound like he enjoys visiting the elderly at his local nursing home to sing Christmas carols?

In the meantime, Jay has made up with his Trump voting Mom and apparently has arranged for child care on Sunday evening.

"He asked if he could come over for dinner Sunday evening. Sounds like he wants to stay over...."

I guess slave has some menu planning to do.

Cuckolding Cums to PBS?!?

Mistress and slave have slowly re-entered the ugly brew of post-election recriminating here in the states. It's a pretty toxic mix when combined with jet lag and the sagging fortunes of one's local NFL team.  It means you spend a lot of time in bed, and avoiding the hard news sections of the papers or CNN all together.

The upside is that there's more time for sex. On Sunday we actually had a two-fer: with some robust use of Mistress's favorite power tool and some cock riding in the morning, followed by some more conventional worship and fucking in the late afternoon.

Sadly, the election has had some unexpected fallout for Mistress's side-dish hanky panky.

"I tried to get Jay interested in a little birthday action this week, slave....but he says he's not talking to his mother because of the election and now he has no one to watch his kid!"

(Jay voted for Clinton. Apparently his Mom voted for Trump, reversing the gender stereotype that the polls had predicted).

This sounds like a bad episode of "All in the Family", doesn't it?

With Mistress left to only her slave's work-a-day cock for solace, we found some amusement by catching up on some episodes of "Indian Summers" on Masterpiece theatre, which has two separate cross- racial cuckolding themes going this season ---- clearly it's not your grandmother's PBS anymore.

On the one hand we have your aspiring young Indian bureaucrat - dabbling with both the independence movement and the wife of some creepy and sadistic English dude who has a skinny moustache and plays the ukulele.

The husband does not actually know much about his wife's idealistic and earnest side-dish until the two lovebirds try to go on the lam to Australia.


Here is a picture of cuckolded husband # 1.  Any guy who wears an ascot all the time deserves to be cuckolded. right?









In the meantime, another more intriguing cuckold situation broke out involving the ambitious, aspiring English Viceroy wannabe, and his oddly foxy American wife.

The husband needs the political support of some Indian "royal" for his scheme to give the Indian people some sort of "democracy light". But the Majarajah, who controls some small corner of the country, doesn't like the idea of giving up any of his power, But he proposes a deal:

"Give me your wife for the night, and I can find my way to support your plan....."  On the left is the English twit and his wife before the deal goes down.



The Majarajah, an older and supercilious fellow,  has several wives. And one of them - an Australian - is there and apparently all in on the transaction proposed.

The aspiring Viceroy acts "shocked, shocked" about such an "outrageous" proposition, but finds his way to explaining it to his wife. The wife though .... seems intrigued. As the evening develops, she makes it clear to both the Majarahah and his wife that she is "available" as consideration for this political bargain, particularly after the old Indian royal throws in some flashy jewels he wraps around her neck like a collar over dinner.

Of course, this is "Masterpiece",  so there is no actual footage of the Majarajah collecting his prize... just the sounds of the wife's moans of passion heard through the bedroom door by the cuckolded husband.

Allister Cook must be rolling over in his posh, mahogany  grave somewhere.

Getaway Boat Available

Mistress and Slave made it back to River City Friday evening. It was a long travel day, made even longer by the dread of returning from our idyllic holiday to a land where our next President is an ancient, bigoted blowhard who brags about groping the ladies and not paying taxes.

So we are still trying to focus on the other things that can make life entertaining. There was some bracing wake up sex in Mistress’s executive suite Saturday morning, a robust bike ride before noon, and then some catching up with family and work before an evening at home, catching up on “Indian Summer” while Mistress allowed me to fondle her to another end – of – day cum.

On the cuckolding front, I have continued to maintain Mistress’s AM account while over seas, being fairly brutal with eliminating pretenders from a tiny portion of actual contenders.  For every one potential candidate, there are about 20 guys like the “gentleman” below, who clearly had trouble passing his 6^th grade grammar and spelling test:

 hello im divorced 4 years . im a granpaw of 3 , lLove boating , racing and playing in my hot rods . im well endowed , love sex , had vasectomy and can go for hours , if u like it quick and easy , dont contact me ! i need a woman with stamina that can rock my boat ,my kids are grown , I rent my houses to my kids and live on my huge houseboat docked in Cincinnati , love the Marina life , when I want go fast I jump in my speed boat parked outside my patio door in Marina

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While this “boating enthusiast”  may not be at the top of Mistress’s dance care, at least we know who to contact if we need a quick get-a-way boat should President Trump’s new deportation force comes knocking.  It may take a village to survive the next four years.

And if he have to go into hiding for a while until this passes, maybe he can lend us a spare compartment in that "house boat" of his at the marina.

Vamanos....

Mistress and slave are headed back into what one of my friends referred to as "this massive shitstorm...." Then there was the other correspondent reporting news from the front, who described the election and it's outcome as a "cluster fuck".  (You can say that in a sex blog, right?)

We are still in denial, which has been aided by a 6 hour time shift, and our disciplined refusal to monitor the US news sites.  But time is running out. Here we sit at Madrid Airport, hoping against hope that Trump will close the borders and shut is out....but then I guess he can't do that until January!  Bad timing once again.

Fortunately, we did have time for some robust wake up sex this morning, before our desultory routine of packing up for the long journey to the new, post-election world, where "Pussy Grabbing" is now the sport of wood- be kings.

So let's just share a few more images from our travels and call it a day.  See you all on the other side.


It seemed that in Madrid there were fewer ladies taunting slave with their tights. Mistress specualated that it's warmer here than in Brussels.  Or maybe the town is more casual than Brussels. But here is an image I secretly copped at the aeropuerto.

The street life in Madrid is vibrant.  All those tapas bars and Cervezarias serving their customers late into the night.  So normally, I'm not looking up.  Surprisingly, it was Mistress who pointed out this roof top vision to her tights addled slave. 

It's a neck craning way just to get a glimpse of stocking tops.

So Adios for now, amigos. If you don't hear from us again, assume that the Trump deportation force has aprehended us as "social degenerates" and that we are languishing in a secret prision, awaiting our turn on the water board.

Kinksters in Exile

Mistress and slave have traveled from Bilbao to Santiago and now to Madrid in this last week of our journey. We absorbed the shocking news from state side in the middle of the night here like a bad dream, we would wake from in the morning.  We are still in the denial stage, avoiding mainstream media sources. But we can't avoid the howls of fear and recrimination from friends and family in our in boxes and on social media.  A soothing train ride across Spain yesterday morning with limited wifi access helped insulate us from reality a bit.

I suppose sometime on the flight home we will come to grips with the new reality, but in the meantime....we might as well enjoy our final days here on a Continent and in a country where so much worse has happened and yet the folks seem to have carved out good lives, right?

So last night we did a bit of a Ernest Hemingway pub crawl, enjoying beverages and tapas at some of his old Madrid haunts, from the days of Franco, one of the Donald's apparent role models.

And we've also stumbled on some appealing kinky images in the least likely places, like these from the Cathedral in Santiago, of an ancient threesome.  Can you spot the cuckold?

And there was this wood carving that took someone's pain and piercing fetish just a tad too far:



But what really surprised us was a gallery in the conservative old Santiago, otherwise dedicated to showcasing the unique culture of Galicia, that definitely was striking a dissonant kinky chord:

There was encasement in a cage  kink:




These strange metal restraints:




And lots of  chains too:



And while all this contemporary kink has it's odd charm, there's nothing like a little "old school" bondage to keep you grounded:


It reminds me of what I am tempted to say to my friends and family as the come to grips with the ascendance of America's new Caudillo:

"This Too Shall Pass".

Too Distracting?

Mistress and slave spent the weekend with our "studious" daughter in Bilbao - taking in the famous museum, eating at quaint pixtos bars, and getting wet in the interminable coastal rain.  But she had to get back th her "studies" so we tearfully dropped her off at the Aeropuerto at noon in Sunday, rented a surprisingly peppy diesel  fiat from an unctuous car rental guy who tried to up sell me on a Mercedes, then headed west along the Bay of Biscay.

Getting hungry, we took a flyer on an exit near the shore line, found an dramatic ocean view, and a bargain three course lunch at in a little town at a quaint bistro serving well dressed locals spending a couple of hours enjoying each others' company over a Sunday afternoon Comida.

Muy Romantico!

It helped soothe Mistress's angst over bidding adios to her "baby" for the next several months.

Rest assured, we did not get off schedule on our morning sex over the weekend, and Mistress received some lavish worship before we called it quits on the road last night at some odd ses side resort hotel barely open for guests in the off season.

But before signing off and waking Mistress from her slumber, I wanted to respond to Sin's question about this whole "tights" thing, which, it seems from the comments, is not just some unique Mick fixation.

I suppose it goes back to my days as a lad in 8th grade, noticing the ladies for the first time, and being distracted when they first began wearing hose other than knee socks to class.  In retrospect, I am surprised the nuns did not ban the "distraction", recalling more than a few times Sister Beatrice calling out "Mr. Collins" why not keep your eyes on the blackboard" as I was craning my neck for a glimpse at the crossed, stockinged legs of the girl to my right. (This was in the early 60's, before pantyhose became readily available).

Of course, now schools are banning those sexy smooth "leggings" combined with short tops in elementary school, according to a recent Washington Post story ("Are Leggings too Distracting")
Girls and Moms are pushing back. Why should they have to accommodate the idiotic tendency of boys and men to get lost in a girl or ladies' long and shapely legs and ass?  Why indeed?  Am I can do is confess: yes, I get distracted!  Sometimes to the annoyance of my beloved Mistress.

But isn't it also fair to say that part of the fun for women is to exploit our idiocy and catch out eyes?  I don't think my high school girlfriend was acting too innocently when she would slide into the bucket seat of my Dad's thunderbird, and let her skirt ride up just enough to give me a flash of thigh above her dark "over the knee socks".   Or was she?  That was much more distracting than an errant text message is now a days.


Later I began to appreciate the soft silky texture of a thigh clad with nylon, as it rubbed against my own thigh. Ir as I stroked it with my clumsy inelegant paws.  And while Mistress scoffs from time to time at my obvious inability to ignore a lady as she strides or cycles by, she has cruelly exploited my fetish in her successful effort to enslave me,  If I recall correctly she had some very distracting pantyhose on combined with a stylish short dress the night we met way back in the 1980's.

So SIn, I don't know whether you think you look sexy on those colder days up north when you slither into some tights, but consider and be merciful to the sad victims of this dreaded fetish. Maybe consider reverting to pant suits.  Mistress says they might come back into style depending on the outcome of Tuesday's election.  (But despite that. I would still not suggest voting for the alternative.)

(P.S. - Sin, if you want me to opine on whether you are an unfair distraction when you wear tights, feel free to take a selfie. I would be happy to post it here and survery our readers!)

Tights Fetish Nirvava

Mistress and slave are still on our EuroJunket, having covered three countries over the last three days. We slogged thru the trenches in Loraine, spent a final night in Brussels, then toated our daughter down to Spain for a weekend of art and pinxos.

But the constant distraction for slave has been the preference of so many European women for tights, whether for work or a night out.

Brussels has a growing bike culture, and my head was turned more than a few times by lovely ladies rolling by - day or night - in short skirts and dark tights.


Theree were tights in the train stations:


And more tights in window displays:



Fortunately,  Mistress also got into the mood in the evenings for dinner:



Turns out the ladies of Basque Country have gotten the memo:



And while I've run into this movie star in the tiny grocery near our SW hideaway, she's usually in jeans, not dressed like in this window here:

,

Hopefully I won't get run down by a Tram while gawking!

Kinksters Still Abroad

Mistress and slave have taken their travel on the road, ditching our daughter back in Brussels and traveling south by car into France to visit locales where my Grande Pere fought in WWI. (Well he was in the ambulance corp, so I guess he didn't fight. And, no, he wasn't Ernest Hemingway).

While it was nice to spend time with our daughter - who always seemed to catch up with us at meal time- we are enjoying our solitude at a charming Inn along the Meuse River, where Quiche Loraine was born. And since I'm just a slave, I don't have to worry about that line that "real men don't eat Quiche", do I?

Rest assured that there has been some robust wake up sex and post-nap afternoon worship, as well as some tramping through the woods to check out the holes left by artillery shells 100 yrs. ago.  Romantic, right?

But of course we've kept our eye open for "blog worthy" items.  Like these lovely ladies at the Magritte Museum:



Apparently the lady above did not get the "clean shaven folds" memo.  Otherwise, she looks a lot like Molly with her hair up.



But as cute as they are, they really aren't that kinky, are they.  But don't worry, we did find something for those of you into breath play: