House Guests

The surly teens suffered through their campus visit yesterday. Their primary factor in deciding whether a particular college gets thumbs up or down appears to be the presence or absence of a Chipotle.

This lovely campus apparently failed that test.

Afterwards, we hit the highway to our next stop: The summer home of Molly’s in-laws near the banks of one of those great lakes.

We had assumed that the sleeping situation would put us in close proximity to the teens, so planned on a vanilla weekend. I did not even bring any implements of bondage or torture for Switch Day (oops, there go our stat counts for Monday).

But instead we ended up in this sumptuous suite apart from the rest of the house, with a huge four-poster bed. My kingdom for some clothesline!

But, fear not, we were able to have some delicious post sort-of-three way sex yesterday morning, in that old campus mansion, while the teens slept in before their tour.

As Mistress read the blog, her Slave worshipped, kneeling on the floor to get the proper leverage. But…the poor dear was rather tender from all that abuse the night before.

“Owww…. Be more gentle Slave….”

I stopped sucking clit between my lips, and reverted to a softer laving with my tongue. That seemed to do the trick.

And, once given permission to fuck her, I used it as an opportunity to do some cross-examination about her college days’ encounters with her Journalism Prof.

“So who made the first move, Mistress?”

“I suppose he did…. We were spending a lot of time together …. In class. Working on the school paper… and I was in his office ….. and he just kissed me.”

I imagined Mistress, young, passionate, those long tan legs. Relatively innocent, but clearly open, even at 19, to a little adventure. Once she turned on the charm, gave that little signal of availability, this guy would not have had a chance, just like me back in the days of Mike Dukakis and Dan Quayle.

“Did he ask for permission to kiss you?”

“I don’t remember that… it was just one of those moments.”

“And was it hot, Mistress?”

“Yes, Slave…. He was a kittle quirky, but he was smart…. The older guy who seemed kind of cool.”

“And did you do it then with him?”

All the while, Slave is sliding in and out and against Mistress, listening to her little moans of delight as I take her down memory lane, early 80’s edition.

“No… it was a few days, maybe a week or two later.”

Good… patience. Planning. Anticipation. I imagined how hot both of them would be once they found each other in private again.

“And where did you do it?”

“In his office…. I remember that when he closed his door, there were all these academic robes hanging there… for graduation I guess. A weird thing to remember….”

“Did you do it on the floor? On his desk?”

“No… he had a couch.”

“Hmmm… How convenient.”

“And did he lick your cunt like I do, Mistress?”

“I don’t remember that… not as many men are into that the way you are, Slave.”

I guess it’s good to have a unique skill set in this tough economy.

“Did he like it when you sucked his cock, Mistress?”

“I am pretty sure he did Slave….”

Mistress must have developed those skills early on.

At this point the story line got lost …. Soon I was begging for permission to come, and Mistress was in a charitable state of mind.

Later, as we walked around the campus, Mistress pointed out to me the building where her illicit shenanigans had occurred. And she looked through the faculty roster. Her old Journalism Prof seems to have moved on. I wondered whether his “dabbling into female students” ( as a certain whacko Senate candidate might put it) had caught up with him.

The sort of behavior that was commonly winked at prior to 1985, one of the fringe benefits of academia, has long since become grounds for termination on U.S. campuses.

“Did you feel he had exploited you, Mistress? In retrospect was this sexual harassment?”

She laughed.

“No Slave…. I had a boyfriend who was pretty nasty to me at the time…. This was a nice outlet… it was fun. It made me feel good. ”

Mistress told me that he and the Prof “did it” a few times. He was married. She had the boyfriend. There were no expectations, she says. And she could not recall why they drifted apart.

Of course, I wonder how I would feel if my own daughter got caught up in this sort of teacher / student romance. Now that I think of it, I know exactly how I would feel. Pissed. Demanding retribution.

But sometimes a parent has to let go. Kids need to learn from their own experiences and make their own mistakes. For Molly this did not seem to be a mistake at all. But I am curious to know what some of you out there think about it.

Changing subjects….

Yesterday, Sin and Aisha wondered how Molly could handle the conflicting roles of sub / Mistress in our 3M sex-capade Thursday evening.

It seemed confusing but rather incendiary for her.

She had trouble with titles. Was the guy on the phone whispering who knows what into her ears, “Sir” or “M”? Was I “Slave” or “Mick”?

It seemed at some times I was her Slave … responding to commands about when to lick or fuck her. Then again, in her mind I may have been M’s surrogate, taking her in the way M was describing how he would take her.

And then, later, I was doing things that M had her tell me to do …. Like slide a finger into her little tight hole while the other one was impaled by my cock.

It was all very befuddling for poor Molly. And her orgasms kept on coming. Yikes.

The best comparison I can make is crossed jumper cables. If you mistakenly hook the red cable attached to one car battery’s positive knob to the negative knob on the other car’s battery ---- oops. Stand back and watch the sparks fly.

Mistress’s poles got crossed the other night and it was a wild and crazy thing to behold.

Welcome Back, Molly.

I’m reporting to you this morning from the campus of that small liberal arts college where Mistress matriculated back in the 1980’s.  We are on a short weekend road trip with the surly teens, who are in the college shopping phase. Mistress wanted to show them her alma mater – at long last – to see if she could pique their interest.

But of course they think they are far too special for this lovely pastoral place that, to them, seems to be in the middle of no-where.

I for one loved the campus tour that Mistress gave me last night, under a bright full moon. There was the frat house where she once fucked E, the cocky guy who discovered Mistress’ s penchant for being a cyber sub last fall.

And we speculated about whether Mistress might run into the Journalism Prof she had a brief, but incendiary affair with back in Sopohomore year. (We calculated that he’s probably younger than her Slave….so who’s the cradle robber?)

But so much for the travelogue. I suspect that you, dear  readers, are more interested in Sex-tourism.

One of our commenters yesterday cleverly suggested that the best way to begin a period of orgasm denial is to condition a slave to 6 or 7 orgasms a day, then pull out the rug. Damn.

If M decided to apply that technique to Mistress, today would be a very good day.

Yesterday morning, I worshipped her sopping cunt for a while as she read the blog, but elected to pass on giving her an orgasm, or fucking her myself. She had a telephone conference planned with our Western Correspondent for about 10 am, and I figured it would be unfair to him for me to prematurely discharge all that anticipatory sexual energy..

It was a “work from home” morning for her. And when she reported back to me later it sounds like she had been very productive.

“How many, Mistress.”

“Four, Slave….it was pretty hot.”

“And did M get some action too, Mistress?”

“Oh yes.  He kind of went wild, Slave.”

No wonder M had been generating fewer column inches lately. His hands have a higher and better use.

We hit the road with the teens around 3:30 pm for the long drive north, and not long afterwards, M and Mistress were texting back and forth. M was at the airport in his home town, heading to one of our Midwestern cities best known for its beer production, where he will be spending some time this weekend on the golf course with his brother.

And we were still driving when M landed, texting Mistress about his trip, and asking whether she could call.

The teens were in the back seat, all ear budded up. And Mistress kept the talk very vanilla. But it was cute to see her light up and tease her big bad cyber dom about his flight reticence.

We finally made it here around 8 pm, and ate dinner with the girls at an old off-campus beer and pizza joint, still around after 100 years of serving  college kids with fake IDs and workers from the long shuttered paper mill.  A few of the guys who seem to have grown roots at the bar ogled Mistress and the teens as we slid into a booth.  I guess they aren’t used to much River City glamour in these parts.

After dinner, we collected the keys to rooms at an old mansion on campus, where returning alumna are entitled to stay… I warned the teens to be on the look out for ghosts. But they seemed more interested in the fact that their room had cable.

Parenting finally done for the day, Mistress and I took that walk, then hunkered down in our room.  I was looking forward to collecting my sexual IOU from the morning, and debriefing Mistress about her morning conference call.

But as I was emerging from the shower, Mistress’s text went off.

“It’s M, Slave… he wants to know what we are up to….”

“Go ahead and report, Mistress…. No rush on my end.”

There was more tapping and chiming for a  while, as I checked for email on the laptop.

“He wants to know if I can talk, Slave.”

“Of course, you can, Mistress.”

“I’m going to tell him we have other priorities now, Slave. That my Slave needs his attention.”

“It really is OK, Mistress.”

I could tell she was torn. But there was something compelling about his request. And sure enough, soon they were chatting on the bed. I took the photo above to record the scene. 

But soon, inevitably I suppose, I was drawn into their action.

“M says your mouth should be on my cunt, Slave.”

  Of course, Mistress. I was waiting to be asked.”

Soon I was on my knees, Devouring. And Mistress was murmuring into the phone. It was another one of those kinky Bob Newhart routines.

There was some conversation about titles… Mistress kept getting confused.

“Yes, M….I mean Sir..  Yes, Sir, I think Slave gets turned on when you make me call you Sir.”

And I got some questions too.

“M wants to know if  your cock is hard, Slave?”

“It certainly is Mistress.”

For a while M was doing the talking, whispering Mistress into a world where she was likely enjoying the full measure of his “special occasion cock”.

Soon Mistress was coming hard and long against my mouth, as I sucked and cajoled her with lips and tongues. She seemed to enjoy vocalizing it all for M’s pleasure and amusement.

And she was very fixated on what was happening at M’s end of the line.

“What are you doing, Sir…..are you hard…. Does this turn YOU on?... You know I like to hear about that….”

She was clearly trying to provoke him…. To make sure he was having as much fun across the lake in beer town as we were here in her little college town.

But then Mistress (or was it M) decided to ratchet things up a notch.

“Why don’t you fuck me now, Slave…. “

Well, I certainly was desperate to do just that. And I would not want to be accused of insubordination.  But doing it with an audience of sorts, was a new experience for me.

 I slid on top of Mistress, thrusting into her, as she continued to describe the action to her Sir.

“It’s a little hard to guide him in with one hand on the phone, M.,,, er,,,, Sir.”

Bu we overcame that minor inconvenience, and soon I was fucking her hard and with mucho gusto. And Mistress was coming some more, first with me on top, and then later, riding my cock, describing it all in great, smutty  detail for our Western Correspondent.

“You do like hearing this don’t you, Sir….”

It seemed he did. And I chimed in.

“I just hope that if you and M ever do get together, I get a phone call like this…”

“M says it’s a deal, Slave.”

As we continued to fuck there were some special requests thrown in.

“M wants you to stick my finger up my ass, Slave.”

We rolled over again, and I followed orders. More crazed Mistress coming sounds ensued.

But I could tell Mistress was getting near the edge of even her mighty endurance.

“What I’d really like is for both of my cocks to come at the same time….do you think we could do that?”

Well, as it  turned out, the answer was “no”. 

Within moments I could hear M’s mighty roar through the phone pressed against Mistress’s ear.  Wow.   Youthful exuberance. No wonder Mistress likes to egg him on that way.

And not long after that, Mistress signed off, wishing her Sir a loving sweet dreams, as I continued to piston in and out of her at a more leisurely pace. 

While I am not sure that I could have come with the distraction of those other ears, and Mistress’s running narrative for him, I certainly had no problems after the phone was put aside. And soon I was begging to come, and Mistress was more than happy to grant me permission.

She’s still sleeping now, just a few feet away.  She has a right to be tired. And I am wondering if in her wanton college days she ever had, or even imagined having , as many orgasms as she had yesterday with her Slave and her Sir.

HNT / To Deny or Not to Deny?

Between ‘Nilla’s latest chapter in her “Mountain” opus, and M’s suggestion on these pages that we poll our little claque of opinionated readers on whether and to what length Mistress should endure orgasm quarantine, we had a lot of chatter going yesteday in Collins-ville, and with our Western Correspondent.

M even turned up briefly among ‘Nilla’s comments with a few choice, rare words, describing himself (quite accurately) as our underproductive and overpaid “Western Correspondent”. I wonder if it’s possible for UCTMW, LLC to collect a syndication fee from ‘Nilla as a way to recoup our investment in his lofty monthly salary.

First, on the subject of ‘Nilla’s little work of speculative fiction.

I confess that the thought of a certain Slave being taken that way by his Mistress in front of one of her male admirers sent a certain twitch through me. Is it the humiliation that I crave? Part of the whole cuckold thing? I do get a certain grovel-ly delight when Mistress asserts herself that way. The experiment with the cage on while being ass fucked over the weekend was …..Wow-ish.

So yes, ‘Nilla. That works.

But the last few passages. Involving the Slave’s mouth and M’s “special occasion cock”? That generated a big fat yuck among the three of us. Not to say that those who are into it, shouldn’t be into it. Who are we to judge when it comes to sexual behaviors not involving unwelcome conduct or kids?

It’s just that M and I both are pretty darn hetero; and Mistress herself likes to think that both his cock and my mouth would be attending solely to her should we ever find ourselves together.

Nonetheless, I certainly got a kick out of our fans’ interest in my well being over ‘Nilla’s posting.

On to the subject or orgasm denial.

Mistress thought it was oh, so nice of you all to suggest how she would benefit from 2 0r 3 days of denial.

When I texted her mid-day that “Everyone seems to be voting for days of denial, Mistress”

Her rather clear response was “No Way.”

Of course, I don’t have the authority to impose suck a sentence. At most my contract would be limited to our 24 hour switch day.

You sub-sisters will have to lobby the Western Correspondent if you want to see a longer sentence imposed.

And while it might be amusing to deny Mistress on Switch Day - to tease, torment, bring her tight up to the edge, and leave her hanging – I would lose the special thrill I get to watch her crash over and through that last barrier. So it would be self-denial as much as denial for her.

An interesting concept now that I think of it…. I suppose that might be kind of fun….. let’s think about it a while.

I agree with ‘Nilla who talked about how orgasm denial sucks, but when you have that first post denial explosion, it seems like it was worth the wait. Almost. When Mistress has denied me for a 24 hour or 26 hour period, I am crazy frustrated. And she seems to enjoy that clearly manifested need I have for her.

But she seems to have let our Abstinence Days fade away in the last few months. It’s usually 2 or 3 a day here in the Collins’ household for her devoted Slave. Maybe she’s going with the theory that lots or orgasms keep me docile and obedient. If so, it’s certainly working.

I would be remiss not to say that all that commentary yesterday did get Mistress worked up. When we got home from work, she was quite insistent on her pre-dinner worship, and then, after dinner, we settled in for a long and mutually pleasing session in our bed, with my little device required.

“Put it in Slave…. I like what it does to your cock.”

And so that she gets the proper balance, Mistress plans to leave for work a little later than normal, so she can fit in a phone therapy session with our Western Correspondent, assisted by her trusty Hitachi.

Now I’m heading upstairs to wake her. The question I haven’t answered yet is whether I should let her horniness build for her call with M, or get a little re-work action in for myself.

Tough call.

Fulfilling the Prime Directive

My hardwired prime directive is to keep Mistress content.

Sure, life presents continuous challenges that even a devoted Slave can’t control – demanding job, moody teens, needy relatives, shitty real estate market, yadda, yadda . But I like to think I perform satisfactorily when it comes to keeping Mistress amused and satisfied when it comes to meeting her sexual and emotional needs, particularly with the help of out Western Correspondent.

(To some extent I give myself a little credit for engaging his assistance, since M found Mistress through this blog).

The last couple of days provide some good examples of how M and I seem to work as one co-ordinated “ Mistress Satisfaction” unit to keep her happy and sated.

Our Monday morning schedule called for an early breakfast meeting for Mistress. She does not like to be rushed in the AM, so there was no time for early morning sex. But I made sure that she had a refreshing orgasm as we showered, using fingers to slide between those molten lips, as warm water ran down our bodies. Mistress did a nice little shudder and moan as she clung to me, letting the aftershocks settle as she rinsed the conditioner from her thick, dark hair.

It was one meeting after another for her that day. Then, at 5:30, we were off to a political fundraiser. We were sitting at a table listening to the bloviators run on far too long, when Mistress leaned over holding her I-phone in her hand.

“M was very attentive today, Slave, even though I probably did not give him enough time to talk.”

“How so, Mistress.”

“Well, I was sitting in my office and this picture of his cock popped up….a texted cock.”

“Would you like to share?”

“If you want, Slave.”

She fingered the screen for a moment, and there it was, thick, hard, veins protruding.

“Hmmmm. And how does this effect you Mistress…. What does he want you to do when you get the cock shot?”

“It’s a little ….disturbing….distracting, Slave. And I think he wants me to return the favor….go somewhere and take a cunt shot to send to him.”

“And did that happen today, Mistress?”

“Not today….too busy. Maybe only once or twice a week.”


I imagined Mistress off in some bathroom stall. Juicing up her naughty parts with her well manicured fingers, for the purpose of titillating our Western Correspondent. Then I expressed silent gratitude that I was not wearing my cock cage.

“It’s a little unfair, Mistress. Because of my “no touch” rule, I can’t send you hard cock shots.”

“But I get to see yours all the time, Slave….and those pictures I get of you in the cage…they’re just as much a turn on.

Hopelessly distracted by now from the self-absorbed blather of the candidates, we found an exit and headed home for some much needed worship time.

Tuesday morning, Mistress was not so rushed. So we had the opportunity to make love before heading to work.

And just after lunch, Mistress stopped by my office for some mid-day worship.

We have gotten pretty efficient when it comes to a Mistress drive by at my office.

She breezes in.

“Hello, Slave.”

I close the door, slide the “throne” against the door.

“Hi, Mistress. You’re are looking particularly good today.”

I spread the maroon blanket.

She sits, then wriggles out of her undies.

By now I am on my knees, and begin my oral devotions.

Soon Mistress is shuddering, her legs wrapping themselves around my neck, pulling me closer to her.

We chat a bit then.

“My, look how big I am down there, all puffed up and out.”

True, her clit was all red, swollen, popped up between those lovely lips.

“Maybe we could take a photo for M?”

“It’s almost too obscene, Slave.”

Instead, I went to work again with my lips and tongue, giving her one more orgasm for the road.

Later, on the drive home, Mistress said she heard from M as she walked back to her office after her mid-day frolic with me.

“He sent another cock picture, Slave. Then he called. He wanted to make sure I was well taken care of.”

Then she repeated their cute conversation:

“Let me guess, morning sex?”

“Check”.

“Worship?”

“Check. And then a cock picture from you….”

“Check….”

Mistress’s text message chime went off, as we were getting within a few minutes of home.

“It’s M, Slave, he wants to know if I can call….”

“Of course you can, Mistress…”

(It’s nice of her to ask, but she hardly needs the Slave’s permission).

They chatted and I could hear Mistress’s end of the conversation. They were talking about our readers’ comments on how Mistress should be handled on our switch days. M seemed to agree with those of you who propose more begging, more orgasms, just plain more.

Mistress was beginning to squirm.

Yes, squirm. Cute.

“Slave, M says maybe we should ask our readers if I should have to suffer through more orgasm denial …. Would they suggest 2 days, 3 days?”

“I don’t have authority to do that for more than 24 hours, Mistress…”

But I suppose M would, wouldn’t he? So let us know what you think.

By now we were pulling into the drive. And M had one more “request”.

“He wants a photo after you worship, Slave.”

So within few minutes, I found myself on my knees, yet again, snapping a photo of Mistress, fresh from a couple of orally administered orgasms, legs spread in her obscenely insouciant way. And then she texted that shot obediently off to her Master.

Not long after we got his rather pithy response.

“Fucking Hot, Molly.”

I think Mistress was pleased.

And so the sun set another day on the Collins’ household, with what I hoped was a satisfactory performance of Slave’s prime directive.