Molly and Mick's Toy Store Stories

SFP, I promise: I will dump out the toy box (or in our case, boxes, bags and drawer) soon for their photo op. Mick and Molly have a lot of them, hidden here and there. It will make an interesting tableau.

This shot is one from the annals: taken a few months ago when our Western Correspondent wanted to know which toy to have Molly insert in her virginal little bottom to provide a little preview of what it will be like when he elects to take her that way.

Mistress is quite anxious for the opportunity. The very thought of it gets her all juicy and wanton, doesn’t it, dearest?

 These days most of our shopping is done on line. The Stockroom had a great selection and nice, prompt service. Plus you avoid all those moments of potential embarrassment as you pick out your supplies. Though I suppose there might have been a cock twitching moment of humiliation if Mistress had told me to drop by the local “Hustler” store in downtown River City, and pick up that harness and dildo she uses  when she elects to fuck me in the ass.

As I recall, it was the Mistress perusing the Stockroom catalog about two years ago that had her selecting our little white probe, seen in the photo, called the Aneros, to break me into the delights of penetration.

“It might be good for you. Remind you who is in charge, and what you are: my Slave.”

This was about a year before the contract, when Mistress was just beginning to flex her Domme muscles.

And when I first lubed it up and slid it in, it was during a video chat session, with me in River City and Mistress down in Florida during the last few months of our commuter days.

Mistress was very impressed at how obedient I was, and how frustratingly large my cock became once I was fully penetrated.

Yow.

Good idea, Mistress. I was resistant at first. But Mistress does know best.

Our first visit to a Toy Store was before we discovered that Mistress should be in charge. It was probably back in the late 1980’s, when Molly and I were still “undercover”. (i.e., married but not to each other).

Somehow we arranged to be in San Francisco together. How we got away with that stuff remains a mystery to me. But there we were, alone together in one of the greatest cities on the planet, with little to do but eat well and fuck.

Mistress and I played our occasional tie up games in those days, and when we saw a funky little smut shop in that Italian Neighborhood in the north end of the City, we stopped by, and acquired some leather “handcuffs” that can buckle and lock. I recall using them in our hotel that night, Molly’s wrists bound over her head, as I took my time to extract a few orgasms from her.

We still have them: comfortable, secure, useful on either wrists or ankles. They sometimes get deployed on switch day to bind Mistress’s ankles together as I squeeze the Hitachi between clenched thighs.  Very effective. I’m surprised she’s not tried to use them on me. (hint, hint).

Of course, not all toy stores are the type of squalid, sleazy operations that seem to be the focus of Aisha and SFP’s experiences.

Two falls ago we were together in NYC. Mistress brought me along for a business meeting and we had a day for exploring Soho. We did some on-line research to find the best sex shoppes in the City that Never Sleeps.

Our first stop was at Kiki de Montpernasse. Kiki de Montparnasse

Very high end.

Muy Expensivo.

Big beautiful display windows, elegant lingerie, and all sorts of fancy “toys”. Click through some of the pages on their web site and you will see what I mean. Love the categories: “Dilletos”, “Butt-ins”. Cute.

Their retailing concept is that sex toys are now mainstream. Beautiful items to desire and deploy for discerning couples.

Or singles.

The staff are well dressed, younger women, not large guys with dirty shirts looking like they need a cigar in their mouths.

Why settle for a plastic or steel cock ring or butt plug when sterling silver is available?

We settled on our Crystal Cock, also seen in the photo.

It is Beautiful to look at and lovely to hold.

Fills Mistress quite nicely. Ad the ridges seem to have a cunning effect. It comes in a cute little coffin shaped box that slides open. It sits right on the table next to our bed for easy access. Fortunately, my cue grandson hasn’t tried to pop it open and play.

Yet. 

I can imagine the questions that might generate.

I’m thinking that Crystal cock is coming out of it’s box in about 20 minutes.

Some Reading for the Sub-Sisters....

 Thought some of my readers might enjoy this link.....

A Short History of Corsetry

Catching Up....

It was an eventful weekend here in River City, and I know I have been a little lazy in my reporting, so let’s try to catch all of you up on the ups and downs of the past few days. I don’t want to earn the WC’s reputation for sloth. At least not until I qualify for Medicare.

Sadly, that seems just around the corner now.

Friday did not bring an auspicious start to our weekend festivities.

Mistress and my family had gone out of their way to plan my “Mick’s Over the Hill” celebration. But our Friday date night turned into an unexpected trip for her in the dreaded MRI tube.

Molly had been having some strange (for her) headaches the last few days. When they became debilitating Friday morning, I prevailed on her to stay home, then got her to her doctor. He checked her out, wrote some script, but prescribed the whole MRI experience to rule out some potentially ugly things.

So there she was on our normal “picnic and a movie” night, in that dark tube, hearing all those bangs, thumps, and rings for the next 30 minutes or so. Believe me, if you don’t have a headache when they slide you into that contraption, you are sure to emerge with a doozy.

So we headed home, Mistress in pain, both of us worried about what the word would be from her Doc after some Radiologist, probably sipping thick tea in some squalid apartment in Mumbai, read the results over the internet and gave her brain the thumbs-up or down.

What was comforting through this process was that our Western Correspondent was on the edge of his seat too – or at least appeared to be through the anxious texts he was sending us from some Tex-Mex joint in the Mountain Time Zone.

Mistress was bleary eyed and in no shape to respond to them, so she had me type reassuring reply messages to M as we waited at home for the Doctor’s call.

And he seemed almost as relieved as we were when we got the call that Mistress’s brain scan was “normal”. At least as far as the trained eye could detect.

The Doc, of course, was not including Mistress’s pervy wiring in that clean bill of health. But at least we knew that these headaches could be medicated away and did not portend anything scary.

Little emergencies like this do make you consider your priorities in life though. It reminded me how lost I would be without my Molly. How much I treasure her and rely on her to get me through the day.

And what was charming about M’s text messages that evening was the sense of their deepening attachment too.

Very nice.

By Saturday morning, Mistress seemed to be on the mend, and was in the mood to allow me to take her with my hungry cock – gingerly of course – before our morning bike ride.

Later that afternoon, while watching my alma mater put some whoop ass on an overhyped opponent on the gridiron, I got an unexpected surprise: my daughter from our nation’s capitol had sprung herself loose to visit her aging father for his birthday.

Lovely.

But because she was spending the night at our house – just down the hall – her presence put the Kabosh on too exuberant a “Switch Day” on Sunday morning.

I did take the occasion to “force” an orgasm or two from Mistress with her favorite power tool. I made sure she got a good taste of my firm and needy cock with those skilled, full lips.

Then I gave Mistress an order that took her by surprise.

“Ride my cock, Slave”.

She seemed a little stunned. These apparently were words she did not expect to hear. At least not from me.

“You just called me Slave!”

“Well it is Switch day….”

“I suppose you are right, Slave…..OK.”

She slid over me, slowly impaling her self on my firm, work-a-day appendage.

Divine.

And I love it when she picks up the speed, slowly working herself into a frenzy.

My hands were free to roam: pinching at nipples, pulling at her hips to deepen my thrusts into her.

And soon Mistress was moaning as she tipped over the edge, shuddering her release, as her fingers reached back to tickle my balls so cunningly.

I could tell she was tiring now, so pulled her down on top of me, letting her after shocks play out then building her up to another powerful cum.

“Why don’t you role over now Slave and let me finish the job on top.”

She did not protest.

The rest of the day was a bit of a blur. We had a long bike ride, which, fortunately did not re-trigger Mistress’s headaches.

When we got back I offered to worship. Mistress seemed inclined to accept my offer, sliding down those foxy black riding tights to give me access. I took the shot above before diving in to do my “job”.

Funny how switch day ends so quickly around the Collins household, isn’t it?

Later I collected my nearly 4 year old grandson for some hanging out time. He played with our toy collection as his mouldering grampy watched our local NFL pussycats blow another game.

Mistress snoozed on the couch.

At some point she woke and rolled onto the floor with us.

“My Slave’s not giving me enough attention this afternoon”, she whispered into my ear.

We kissed as the cute grandson focused on arranging stuffed animals and tiny furniture, while grazing on a bowl of fruit loops.

It was then that I realized that multitasking on my part was quite doable.

Mistress and I were lying there on the floor. I could shield her body with mine. Cute Grandson was oblivious as I slid my fingers into Mistress jeans, and proceeded to fondle and probe her as I have been trained to do.

Mistress’s eyes were scrunched closed. Her MRI certifiably “normal” brain was focused on something other than the large guys banging into one another on the TC screen.

Soon she was shuddering, gasping quietly.

“Ummmm…. That’s much better Slave.”

Words that are music to a devoted Slave’s ears.

On the 366th Day...

The blogger drove his 2o something daughter to the airport at 4 am. It was amazing that she surprised me with her visit for the big birthday....

But by the time I got home, around 6:15 am, I was more inclined to crawl back into bed with my warm, sleeping Mistress than devote my self to my "craft"... will catch up with you tomorrow, dear readers.