Stress Relief

Sometimes this blog gets hijacked by breaking developments, not unlike the front page of your local newspaper, if you still have one.

Maybe the editor figures at the noon editorial meeting that the big story of the day will be how many cops will get laid off in the latest budget crunch. But what if, around 6 pm,  the local NFL team fires the head coach for too much on-line naughty. Then the scandalized coach becomes the headline you read over your coffee in the morning, and the out-of-work cops are lost below the fold.

So it went for this managing editor yesterday. I had a few good ideas for storylines, particularly yesterday’s morning ritual. You know, when Mistress is reading my blog, and I am favoring her naughty parts with much devotion with my well practiced lips and tongue. After she finished UCTMW, she casually says:

“Stay down there, Slave…. I’m going to read a few more….”

(Maybe my Justice League for Sex Bloggers theme was an insufficient inspiration?…. Point noted.)

I suspect she went through “Nilla, SFP, Suzzanne, maybe Aisha, before she set the laptop aside and proceeded into a rather dramatic series of orgasms that had her modus hiving and shaking and rising off the bed. Who knows what lascivious thoughts were intertwining that all of you inspired, and  that gave her that delicious wake up treat.

You all get an assist.

I was planning to spin that episode out a bit longer, and talk about how nice it was to be permitted to give her a few more orgasms with my “work-a-day” cock, before being permitted to come. 

But then there were further developments here in our little UCTMW remote location that moved that story below our cyber fold.

We spent the day on the ski mountain with the teens. Down here it’s scarily warm. All our snow has melted under the influence of the evil La Nina. But up on the mountain, about 2500 ft. above us, it was a winter wonderland of snow. 

We ignored the whining from the teens and skied until our legs said, “no mas.” 

Apres Ski, we were looking forward to some special “cuddle” time on our return, but duty intervened for both of us.

Each of us had nagging clients with their own pre-holiday emergencies. I dealt with mine via laptop and cell phone. Mistress was also on the phone, giving some well deserved back sass to an ornery client, and giving support to  staff member the client had unfairly berated.  I could tell she was agitated.  It was all in a day…. But…. Stressful.

By the time we were done, our R&R time was pretty much shot…. Old neighbors were coming over for dinner in about an hour, and Mistress had to primp.

As I climbed out of the shower, Mistress was glancing at her I-phone. 

“M says to tell you that Rex Ryan (bombastic Jets’ Coach) is in trouble over some on-line foot fetish videos, Slave.”

I laughed.

I’m going to tell him he can call us to tell you about it.”

Sure enough, M was soon on the phone, sharing the amusing details. It made us glad that we are not “public figures” who can be sucked into a public controversy over some on-line excess.

But before I handed the phone to Mistress, I mentioned to M that “our girl” may be in need of some stress relief, after an unpleasant hour on the phone with that impatient client.

He got the idea.

Mistress was on the bed, slathering moisturizer onto her lush body, while chatting with M. I went to my knees prying her legs apart.

There was not much resistance. 

Mistress’s  side of the dialog went something like this:

“M, the Slave’s on his knees and going at me, and I ‘m just trying to moisturize.”

“Mmmmm…. Yes, M…..”

“I understand…. M…”

At this point the bottle of moisturizer seems to have disappeared. Mistress is focused on M’s voice and what’s going on between her legs. I am suctioning her moist folds with my lips, my tongue pressing it’s advantage against her ripe clit.

“He’s really going at me M… “

Within moments, Mistress is bucking against my mouth, moaning into the phone.

I eased up a bit, but did not cease attending to her as she laid back on the bed, phone still pressed to her ear.

“It’s funny…. I always like it when Mick told me stories when we have sex…. but of course he can’t tell a story when he’s worshipping me like this…But now I have you telling me the stories and him worshipping … what more can a woman ask for….”

After that, another M story must have kicked in…. Mistress was doing her sexy  …”Yes….M….. I’d like that M “ again. Then soon falling over the edge into another robust cum for him, as I picked up the tempo.

There was a bit more talk. Slave, not having been dismissed, kept up his attentions, It had become a bit of a blurr by now.

I do recall Mistress saying….

“He’s like a human suction cup down there, M….”

That was just before her third orgasm.

Sadly, we were now running out of time, Mistress relieved me of my duties, with a gentle shove against my head.

“That really is enough, Slave….”

AS she finished up her chat with M, comparing notes on snow dumps at some ski  resorts in his neck of the mountain time zone,  I dressed and lit a warming fire for our soon to arrive guests.

When Mistress emerged from our room to greet them about 30 minutes later, looking ravishing in black dress, cowboy boots and silver and turquoise jewelry, I must say that the stress of her client conflict seemed to have been fully relieved.

That always makes this Slave feel like his daily mission has been accomplished.

When Sex Blog Universes Collide

Over the last few days, some of us who follow one another’s adventures (or aspirations for adventures) in the sex-blog-o-verse, seem to have been popping up on one another’s pages at a furious pace.

Maybe it’s because the WC finally got his computer back in action at our Mountain Zone UCTMW satellite office. Or because Mistress has been more obsessive than normal in chiming in with her own comments. As she told me the other day:

"The trouble is that our vanilla friends are so darn boring compared to our sex blog friends."

But it was particularly charming to see Suxanne’s Jay citing the WC’s tutorial on breaking in a virgin ass in yesterday’s episode of ALL MINE.
All Mine



Then the WC was egging Jay on, despite Suzanne’s apparent discomfort with the notion.


When Suzanne, who takes guff from no one without tossing it back with even more clever gusto, speculated about whether our WC would be willing to be on the receiving end. Both he and Mistress confirmed that he has expressed a willingness to turn those “cheeks”. if and when the opportunity arises.

Now that would be an interesting development. Mistress might have to go shopping for a “special occasion” dildo for her harness as a matter of symmetry.

There was some similar banter on PuppyTales earlier this week, when Mistress and Brooke compared notes on the risks of posting photos of their ling distance Master’s cocks.

Puppy Tales - Phone Sex

And Sin had a posting addressed to me talking about the challenges of a Poly relationship(s).

Finding My Submission - Dear Mick



All of this interaction among our blogging personas brings to mind my days in elementary school, when I was a comic book addict. And the biggest development that would make my little pre-adolescent jaw drop (other than the drawings of Wonder Woman about to ensnare some baddy with her golden lasso), was when a super-hero from the DC “world” would pop up with one of characters from the alternative Marvel Universe. Say…. The Hulk and Superman go at it to see who is stronger; or Green Lantern and Spider Man take on Sinestro and Dr. Octopus, while comparing notes on how their alter egos should handle their neurotic girl friends.

Our WC has sometimes suggested that our blog personas are sort of sexual super-heroes, out creating multiple orgasms in a single bound. And now our world’s are colliding all the more frequently –as Molly and Mick did a few weeks back with Aisha and D in their community dungeon.

Maybe we need to form a sort of sex bloggers Justice League with our own fancy high tech club house? At least in a virtual sense. The possibilities are endless.

We could share recipes and sex toys.

Compare notes on kinks and techniques.

Feud about which Slave's  job it is to clean the refrigerator.

Break into factions.

Hold elections.

Gossip about one another.

Trade costumes.

Ask Suzanne to show us the content of her diaper bag.

But if the WC invites his brother, let’s make sure he washes his hands frequently.

And from a Sub’s point of view, if we invite Ms. Marie, could we politely ask her to leave that dreaded rat trap at home in her own dungeon.



‘Nilla Mom --- I think this is another story idea!


you.

Full Moon Rising

Mistress woke yesterday in a troubled countenance.

I had a bad dream, Slave….”

Uh Ohhh..  I kind of knew what the subject was.

“I dreamed you left me….”

I wondered if all that talk about poly relationships and insecurities through comments on Sin’s blog the other day had reopened some subconscious paranoia for her.

“Of course, you know I won’t Mistress…. You are stuck with me.”

Then I tried to prove with tongue and cock that my devotion was still quite real. Hopefully it exorcised those demons, at least for a while.

After a morning of skiing, and some mid-afternoon R & R, the Collins clan headed into town for some grocery shopping, and to pick up some holiday gifts on order for us.

The little plaza was all lit up with farolitos and a full moon was rising over the dramatic mountain that  looms over this community, founded all those years ago as a staging area for ventures into the vast wilderness.

It’s the sort of scene that Molly and Mick swoon over. But our surly teens? Well…. From them it’s “when are we leaving…. It’s cold out…. And are we really going to have to drive all the way home?

I am a little concerned that they might conspire to poison one of us in order to get a Medivac flight back to River City.

We opted to drive this time because the airlines have rigged the pricing system for tickets so badly that holiday flights are absurdly expensive. And also to teach the teens something that they need to learn: life isn’t always about taking the cushiest solution to any specific problem.

But after we had filled two grocery carts with provisions for some big communal meals this week with visiting friends, we stopped for Pizza at a funky joint that makes a crust of spelt that Mistress is fond of, and  the teens were in a more chipper mood.  The elder teen even took some photos of Mistress on her I-phone between slices, scanning and responding to text messages, just like the teens do at many of our family meals.

“Who is texting you? “, they demanded to know. Mistress provided a cover story about her friend Sarah back home, but I suspected otherwise.

On the drive home, Mistress muttered to me, “Slave, do you mind if I call the WC when we get home…. He’s desperate to talk to me….”

Well it’s hard to imagine the WC putting it that way, macho dude that he is, but I got the point. Mistress was pleased to get the attention. And of course what sort of Slave would have the temerity to say “No”.  I did wonder if the girls had heard her call me “Slave” though.

So as one surly teen helped me stow our provisions, Mistress shuttered herself on our room. I put on some Christmas tunes to make sure her voice could not be heard on the other side of our door.

Once my tasks were done, I settled down in front of the fire place, with laptop and book. And soon Mistress joined me. She had some answers to the questions haunting our readers: how was it that M’s brother was able to slide his finger up the ass of not one, not two, but three suburban moms at that weekend party?

“He says that his brother is the happy-go-lucky sort, who’s always buying the drinks and taking folks to dinner…. So it would not be unusual if, after a few drinks, he would ask a woman if it was ok to slide his hand down the back of her pants.”

Ok, so it’s a strange Midwestern social obligation playing itself out…. and it’s just a matter of manual dexterity and happenstance that a finger ends up the subject’s ass once the initial permission is granted.

I don’t think I will be trying this trick at home…. But you have to admire the audacity.  This guy needs his own blog!

AS it turned out, Mistress and M just had a chat …. No orgasms involved.  But Mistress did share something else.

“I told M about my dream, Slave.”

“And what was his reaction….”

“He said I need to stop worrying about you… that you are devoted to me and would never leave me…that the blog is a great love story about the two of us.”

“It’s all true, Mistress.”  And I was glad that our WC had my back on this.

Because Mistress had not broken out the power tool in her conversation with M,  I felt she needed some therapeutic attention.

After she completed her evening ablutions, I offered to worship.

“That would be very nice, Slave….”

She settled back on our bed, in a black nightie, sans panties. Spreading her thighs, her well groomed folds were on wanton display for me.

Yum…

Settling In.

Yesterday started like most days for Molly and Mick – I rose early, wrote my bog for all of you, then shared it with Mistress before some early morning sex. Mistress was wearing this sexy light green outfit, something I gifted to her several Christmas’s past. I love the sheer fabric of those panties, which allow me to taste her succulent juices, even before sliding them off.

We are still adjusting after the great drive of 2010, so passed on Switch Day. Mistress gave me a rain check for later this week, always something valuable to have.

After rousting the kids, we headed up the mountain for our first family ski day of the season. We’ve become fair weather skiers these last few years – spoiled by abundant sunshine and pristine snow. But yesterday was hardly “fair”. Overcast. Wind. Snow.

So I knew it would be a short day for my three Divas.

And that probably worked for the best, since M was interested in an afternoon “date” with Mistress.

“Do you mind if we leave a little earlier so he and I can “talk”, Slave.

“Of course not, Mistress. It’s too damn wet and cold up here anyway.”

M, M and M clicked over the audacious tales of his pre-marital sexual exploits that he began sharing with us via email about this time last year.

It turns out in runs in the family. As we were sliding into our boots yesterday morning in the locker room of our local ski resort, Mistress shared the latest.

“M sent me an email saying his brother was at a party last night and stuck a finger up the asses of three women there?”

Hmmmm. This seemed almost too fantastical, even for kin of the WC.

“We need to know more details, Mistress.”

“I suspect he will share during our date this afternoon, Slave.”

So after about 6 runs, and some spicey chili, the chilled Collins clan retreated back down the mountain. As I was arraying our gloves along the baseboard heater to help them dry, Mistress checked her I-phone and announced to me that it was “time”.

“Could you get out my equipment, Slave?”

Of course, Mistress.”

We had left our original Hitachi behind over the Thanksgiving weekend, in order to avoid raised TSA eyebrows as we travel to and fro. I pulled it and an extension cord from it’s hiding place and made sure all was in working order.

Then I kissed Mistress, wishing her a jolly good time.

Mistress shuttered herself in her room, the teens went to their room to watch videos and chill. Mick turned on a football game to help deaden the sound of the wanton moans of sexual release sure to me emanating from our bed at any moment.

Mick had a good book, football, a comfy couch … so what that his lovely wife was on the other side of the wall lavishing her cunt with attention at the urgings of our Western Correspondent.

I must have nodded off, so it seemed it was not long before Mistress emerged from our room, a smug and satisfied look on her face.

She sat down next to me, and I asked the question that had been at the top of my mind.

“So how did M’s brother manage to slide his finger up the ass of three women on Saturday night?”

She laughed.

“Apparently he’s ‘known’ for that, Slave…. It was some neighborhood party.”

It did strike me as odd. M’s bro lives in one of those stolid Midwestern cities known for making beer, not Las Vegas or San Francisco. I had trouble imagining a guy at some suburban holiday party in our hometown sidling up to a neighbor lady and asking “would you mind dropping your drawers so I can finger your ass?”

And then finding two other women who would say yes to that as well on the same evening.

Impressive. I think our Western Correspondent may need to do a tutorial on this strategy for breaking the ice with a suburban mom.

After that, Mistress and Slave adjourned to a hot bath, and to bed. Nap first, then a robust round of fucking during which I tried to remind Mistress that a work-a-day cock can have its merits too.

After dinner – steak, potatoes and veggies at home – we cranked up the Kiva fireplace and trimmed our Christmas tree. And the surly teens even helped.

But once the tree was done, the retreated to their room, leaving the roaring fire to us.

Mistress perused the sex blogs on her laptop, enjoying Sin’s “Dear Mick” posting on Poly stuff. It inspired her to get M on the phone again, and she chatted with him about various blogs we read during the long ride, as I rubbed her foot with one hand while holding my book with another. She noted that Brooke had posted a photo of her Master’s cock on her blog several months ago.

“But, you know M,” she said in that flirtatious voice she saves for him, “there’s no way I’m posting any of those photos of your cock on our blog…. Who knows who might start hitting on you.”