Showing posts with label black boots. Show all posts
Showing posts with label black boots. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Science Wednesday: It's In Her Kiss

As you can see from today's illustration, Mistress elected the boots and bare legs look yesterday when she ventured downtown for some work meetings.

"It was supposed to hit 60 today, Slave....that's too hot for tights."

But she acknowledged that it seemed a little colder than that for mid-afternoon.

"I notice that some of the ladies here have them on Slave...."

SHe gave me a hard time when I confessed I had noticed as well. You can't teach an old Slave new tricks, I suppose. And where's the harm in being "observant"?

Mistress camped out in my office for a good part of the afternoon, since we had plans to meet an old friend after work for a drink at a nearby bar. It's one of those things you can do spontaneously with an empty nest. And we enjoyed trading stories and speculating about an upcoming election with him, a former local poobah, and the other self-important political figures slumming at this particular  bar last night.

Of course, before we ventured out, Mistress received the sort of attention from my lips and tongue that she has become accustomed to. I wonder if the politicians we pal-ed around with last night could detect the musky juices that no doubt clung to my cheeks and chin as we bellied up to the bar? No, they were probably more focused on flirting with Mistress than any detritus in my 6 pm shadow.

But today's entry is not about randy politicians. I'm focused instead on a scientific study derived from an on-line survey about the role of kissing in our contemporary mating practices, courtesy of yesterday's Times. Here's the link :Now a Kiss Isn't Just a Kiss.

It seems that not all of us use kissing for the same purpose:


The participants generally rated kissing in casual relationships as most important before sex, less important during sex, even less important after sex and least important “at other times.” (To clarify: researchers defined kissing as “on the lips or open-mouth (French).”)
Past research has shown that three types of people tend to be choosier in selecting mates who are genetically fit and compatible: women, those who rate themselves highly attractive, and those favoring casual sex. In this study, these people said that kissing was important mostly at the start of a relationship.
That may be because for these individuals, kissing turns out to be a quick, easy way to sample a partner’s suitability — a subconscious stop-go light. For them, “The Shoop Shoop Song (It’s in His Kiss)” might not be far off the mark.
After that first kiss, these types are much more likely than other subjects to change their minds about a potential partner, researchers found. If it’s not in his kiss, forget about him.
But other people might use different criteria to size up their mates: men, those who rate themselves as less sexually attractive, and people looking for commitment. In the grand search for a partner, these individuals screen for people who seem to have the inclination and resources for the long haul. And for them, this study showed, kissing has a lower priority at the beginning of dating.
Particularly for men and women looking for long-term relationships, kissing serves other purposes, like relationship upkeep. They would use their orbicularis oris muscle to mediate, ameliorate and sustain their connections. They rated kissing equally important before sex and at “other times not related to sex.” For these participants, kissing was least important during sex.

So it seems that a woman who sees herself as attractive, and is open to a casual fling might use kissing as a critical way to do a quick inventory on the liklihood of potential partner's compatibility. You're hot, or you're not, based on that first kiss. Blow that chance and it's to the back of the line for you, dude.

A woman more interested in a long term relationship, or who might consider herself a little less attractive, wouldn't view that first kiss as critical as whether her potential partner's American Express card is Gold, Silver, or Platinum.

It got me thinking about my first kiss with Mistress. Actually, I had tried to muster the courage a few times, after we had come together as volunteers on a political campaign. For a while she dodged my clumsy advances in a way that made me think she did not even consider me in that way. (Since we were married to different people at the time, this might have been a very natural reaction on her part to the flirtations of some older guy.)

The break through came one day in my office, a meeting she took the initiative to set up. I should have known once that meeting concluded with a kiss  that my fate was sealed, and that it was just a matter of time before I would become her abject Slave.  

But I suppose I am a slow learner. 

In any event, I am eternally grateful that I seemed to pass that initial screening. It was just a matter of days before I was where I was forever destined to be: my face buried between those delicious thighs, accumulating musky juices on my late afternoon shadow.

That "kiss" must have passed her discerning standards as well.

Saturday, September 14, 2013

Black Boots Go With Anything

We're down to our final full day here at our SW hideaway, heading back to River City tomorrow morning.

It's been a lovely (almost) two weeks of sun, relaxation, music, and two-a-day sexcapading, with only a bearable amount of work and "field chores" thrown in. I suppose I shouldn't have mentioned the fact that I had a cord of wood to stack here, because that apparently triggered our erstwhile Western Correspondent, after much build up, the cancel his plans to visit us yesterday. Maybe he thought he'd be humping Mistress, rather than humping wood?  Either that or he was afraid we would use the opportunity to retrieve his UCTMW AmEx card.

In any event, Mistress and Slave somehow made up for his absence with an afternoon in bed, followed by dinner at her favorite local pizza joint and some music and tequila at a classic local Inn. How many pizza joints have a view like this:
On Thursday night, when some unusually intense rain cancelled an outdoor concert we planned to attend, Mistress organized an impromptu dinner party for four other couples here, doing an excellent job of preparing some homemade guacamole and her patented chile, while Slave was stacking firewood.  Before the guests arrived she was making sure all was in order, and confirming that her Slave had lit the fire, when I caught her in her black boots and matching undies, one of the few
moments she had any clothes on at all here on this trip. It was an image that had to be shared with our readers.

"Mistress, why not just go with that outfit tonight. I'm sure our guests won't mind."

"No need to shock, Slave....., plus it might get a little chilly out on the patio."

It was a festive evening, with plenty of libations and silliness. Something that would be impossible to replicate on a "school night" with our rather dour River City friends. And there was one odd occurrence, which was an odd reprise of an event that occurred this summer at a dinner party I attended when Mistress was on her exotic trip with our daughters and her Mom. You may recall that I handed my I-phone to a woman (she was here Thursday night too) to show a picture of Mistress and the cute Co-Eds on their trip, but she started thumbing through the photos and I had to quickly retrieve it for fear she'd see something more explicit Mistress had sent me.

Well on Thursday at the dinner table, our friend the Potter, a guy in his 30's,  started showing Mistress and me some photos on his camera of his recent work then - oops - suddenly there is a picture of a woman's ass, lying on her bed, the wisps of a thong barely visible between her firm cheeks.

I think Mistress and I simultaneously guffawed.

"Wow. Who's that?"

He seemed completely unembarrassed in explaining that it was just "some chick" who's been trying to get his attention. These kids today! Maybe I should have asked me to forward the photo so I could post it on our sex blog.

Maybe I shouldn't have been so fearful of our dinner companions seeing Mistress's naughty bits after all?