What's Better than"Make-Up" Sex?

Here in the Collins household we are still licking our wounds from a virtual head stomping on election night. After a long campaign, helping some friends run for state and local office, it all came crashing down for them Tuesday night. And we had ring side seats at the scene of the disaster(s).

Of course, losing an election is hardly like a hastily arranged appointment with the guillotine, or being left for dead in a roadside ditch, as political conflict has been resolved in centuries past.

But it can still hurt,

And have consequences.

Fortunately, some are sexual.

Mick and Molly got together in an election season long ago, working together for that short Greek guy who made the mistake of putting on a combat helmet and riding in a tank. With video cameras running.

We discovered something that others have known for as long as there were election (or coup) night parties: politics can be a powerful aphrodisiac.

A win calls for reckless, celebratory carnal excess.

Just ask (if you could) Jack and Marilyn.

A loss calls for reckless, “all is lost so please sooth my pain” carnal excess.

Just ask Bill and Monica.

On election day, after rising at 5 am, I actually slid away from my duties for an hour or so to meet up with Mistress at my office.

I closed the door.  She slid out of her boots and tights long enough for me to kneel before her and suction her little red bud with my lips. Soon she was quaking and softly moaning for me. When she was content, I was rewarded  with a long shoulder rub as my head rested between her thighs..

Ahhhh.

When she left, I actually crashed on my floor for 30 minutes. The maroon blanket that normally serves rests on her “throne” made a nice pillow. And I was comforted by the scent of her juices it has been marinating in for all these months.

On election night, after absorbing all that  cruel Tea Party kick ass, we got home way late. Numb and in denial, we actually slid into bed and passed out.

But when I woke the need was there. My cock was full and longing to bury itself in Mistress’s comforting folds.

I gave our readers short shrift, returning early to bed to wake Mistress and exchange the comforting fluids that we needed to share.

After nearly 36 hours without release, the explosion was, shall we say, considerable. And Mistress seemed to be particularly pleased as I lavished her cunt with attention from lips and tongue as a prelude.

It was a long day of catch-up and commiseration yesterday. (What do you say to a candidate who thinks overly fatigued donors will respond to a request to help pay off his foolishly incurred debt?) But when I got home, Mistress was clearly in need.

“Time for worship, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress….”

After dinner, as we sat on the couch, forcing ourselves to watch talking heads itemize the carnage, Mistress had some news.

“Bad news Slave….we can’t drive together tomorrow…. I have a date with M in the morning.”

“Errrr…. That’s OK, Mistress …. I am sure M needs some solace too….”

“And I have rules to follow …. I can cum tonight, but no cumming in the morning….. though you are allowed to tease me.”

“Well then let’s make the most of it, before your embargo begins, Mistress…..”

We soon found ourselves locked away in our chambers.  I was instructed to insert my little white probe…. Mistress wanted a very hard one. Not that it would be a problem.

I lavished Mistress’s cunt with more attention from lips and tongue. She was patient, dragging out her orgasm until she was thrashing about on the bed, forcing me to pin her thighs with my arms as I brought her over the edge.

Then she was toying with my cock, teasing it with those magical fingers, taking me to the very edge before she relented to my pleas to fuck her.

“Yes… Slave,,,, you can fuck me…. But I’m going to ride your cock tonight.”

Oh… and she did. Relentlessly.  With a cold determination to drag as much pleasure from my firm appendage as possible.

Of course I was throwing some fuel on her fire.”

“How does it feel to give up the right to come Mistress….”

“It’s hot, Slave….”

“When he lays down the law, Mistress…. Says you are cut off, does that make your cunt get all wet, Mistress?’

She’s close now. Moaning. Frantic as she rides me.

“Yes, Slave…. It’s kind of humiliating isn’t it….”

I imagine her talking to him in her office, or maybe on her drive home, and her hips getting all twitchy as she contemplates her denial, and what is in store for her when in the morning.

And then she comes crashing down on me, groaning through a mighty one, then abruptly rolling off me, so I can mount her and take my own pleasure.

Which I gladly did, begging, of course, when it was finally time for me to come.

Spent, holding her, I thought we were done. But no….

After all those losses, and contemplating her upcoming embargo, Mistress still needed more.

“I think I want the Hitachi, Slave.   But I’m going to use it on myself while you watch.”

“Are you sure M would approve, Mistress? I mean …. Haven’t you had enough?”

“That’s for me to decide, Slave….”

Mistress is always right.

Arghhh.

Molly and Mick had a long and ugly election night.

No, nothing bad between us.

Just saw too many of our friends go down to ignominious defeat.

It may take another 24 hours or so for us to get back into our upbeat and sexy mood.

But we will make it.

I guess we could just accept the new world order.

Start smoking cigarettes.

Work on our tans and golf games.

Stop paying taxes.

Now there's a plan.

Gone Electionering

You won't be hearing much from Mick and Molly over the next 48 hours. Mick has some election duties here in River City, and my day will start around 5:30 am and end who knows when. But I thought I would leave you with this image of Molly, after I led her from her ordeal bent over that table, and before I proceeded to take her from behind.

Afterwards, on our drive back home, Mistress got a call from our Western Correspondent.



"M says that he likes that shot you texted him, Slave. It was almost as good as that one with me over that picnic table."

"Glad it amused him, Mistress..."

They caught up on their day for a while. But soon Mistress's chit chat with M took a different turn.

"Ummmm..... really.... Slave, he wants me to get myself off.... is that OK?"

"You don't need my permission, Mistress."

"He says it's OK, M..... but I have to take off my jeans...."

Mistress handed me the phone, and M and I caught up on our football's teams ignominious defeats as Mistress squirmed and wriggled out of her jeans and panties.


" She' ready for you now, M."

Mistress took the phone back form me. So, as I was navigating through through the highways of northern Indiana, Mistress was navigating her well manicured fingers through her slick folds, while murmuring over the phone to her long distance Master.

Of course, I couldn't hear what he was saying that had those fingers working so zealously, her musky aroma filling our little steel and glass capsule traveling past those corn fields.

But it must have been compelling.

Horniness is the Mother of Invention

We were tucked away in this old Victorian “rooming house” at the Lake Michigan Beach. Leaves almost gone from the trees.

Chilly wind blowing off the lake.

Winter coming on.

Our friends from out west were off with their team on the flight home.

So the apartment we had rented with them in mind was now all ours. And as I worked on yesterday morning’s blog, I reconnoitered the furnishings and fixtures to see what I could improvise for a suitable switch opportunity when my Mistress woke from her beauty rest.

As you can see, I settled on a the little 4 person dining room table tucked against the wall, repositioning it closer to a plug so that the mighty Hitachi, still tucked into Mistress’s bag from her naughty phone sex date in River City with M, could be readily deployed.

When Mistress finally awake around 8:45 am, I was ready to pounce. She read the blog and your comments.

(“My, Aisha and Sin beat me to the blog this morning Slave”)

Then I pounced. Black rope was ready to bind her wrists in front.

“Not so tight Slave….do you think I’m really going to try to escape?”

“It’s always possible, Mistress.”

Then I pulled her up and out of bed.

“What….. where are we going.”

“There is a nice balcony out front, Mistress. Just think what the cool wind would do to your nipples….”

“You wouldn’t ….”

Well, I would actually …. But not this morning.

I pulled her into the little living room, over the table, onto which I had positioned a thick cushion. Fixed her hands to the front legs. Then roped her thighs to the rear legs in that nice and available position illustrated above.

There was then a photo opportunity. One shot was on my little cell phone. A Text message to our Western Correspondent.

“Look what you are missing, M.”

Was that cruel? Maybe. But Mistress seemed very supportive of the idea.

“That will be a nice wake up for him, Slave.”

Photos taken to record the moment, I turned my attention to Mistress.

My probing fingers demonstrated how wanton she really is. All that Molly juice. All those little wiggles.

“Wet already, Mistress…..and I haven’t even started.”

I stated with my broad western belt.

“Owww…. That hurts Slave.”

“are you asking me to stop?”

“Ummmm ….. no.”

Of course not. My little slut for the day liked it. It got her ass all squirmy, witching back and forth as she made her pathetically unsuccessful efforts to avoid each slap from the belt.

once she turned a nice rosy glow, it was time for her to feed a bit on my cock. Which, once nicely firmed up, poked and probed at her…. The angle and height of the table did not really permit a good solid fucking from behind, but the teasing was nice for both if us. Well at least it was for me.

Then there was some hand spanking. Some more teasing with probing fingers.

Mistress was moaning a bit now, well Into her role as my Slave for the day.

That’s when I reached for the Hitachi, tucked under a nearby couch.

Mistress started when she hurt the low hum as I turned it on.

“Ohhh…. You found it Slave….”

“of course, Mistress…. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

As I slid it between her legs, pressing it home, Mistress was almost immediately begging ….

“DO you mind if I come now, Slave….. I really need to …..”

“I think what you need is to beg…..”

She was writhing now, tugging against the ropes that bound her thighs apart, and to the legs of the table.

“Oh…. God….. please Slave… please.”

I slid the device down her thigh a bit, damping her urgency. At least so I thought.

“Ohhh…. So mean Slave…. I need it…. Put it back…. Please.”

I am a pushover, as you all have come to know.

So I buckled to Mistress’s pleas. The power tool was quickly back where Mistress wanted it – pressed home against her twitching, soaking folds.

“Oh, yes…. Slave….. now please may I come..”

“Yes, Mistress…. You may.”

It took no longer than 5 seconds before Mistress was straining all the harder against the ropes, squeezing her thighs in a death grip around the business end of the Hitachi, crying out her passion, hips flaying against the table.

I could have relented then, knowing she had her wanton way, but I continued to press it home until she rode the cunning vibrations through another mighty cum.

As she collapsed against the table, she was making another plea….

“Turn it off now please Slave…. So sensitive….”

And of course I did.

Her legs were unbound then. But not her hands. I wanted to control her still, leading her by the black rope into our little bedroom. Spreading her on the bed, on her tummy.

Then I took my reward from behind, sliding hard and deep into her, burying my face in her long, fragrant hair.

But now I’m hearing Mistress’s footsteps upstairs. And I am thinking that this story may have to resume tomorrow…. I have some other plans.