"Press It Up Against Me, Slave."

That’s what Mistress said last night when it was lights out here in River City. In fact, that’s what she usually says. She likes the feel of my cock pressed up between the cheeks of that delightful ass as she slips off to dream land.

And of course I try to accommodate, spooning up against her, an arm wrapped around her resting on a breast. 

Last night, the cock was all worn out, a little damp from some power fucking, the type that goes on for a long time, in part because after a long and busy day, Slave has the energy to get his cock nice and hard (with some handy provocation from Mistress) but not the energy and focus for a quick cum, once Mistress’s needs are “resolved”.

So Mistress had the experience of me taking a long slow and persistent time before I begged for permission. And I heard no complaints. In fact, Mistress seems to enjoy that long slow fuck, with a few additional orgasms tossed in to keep her entertained along the way.

Before the fucking part, we had been laying in bed, watching the uplifting if unnerving news from Cairo on my laptop (That Erin Burnett on NBC must have packed a lot of wardrobe for this story – I swear we saw her in 3 tops over the course of the evening).

Mistress was multi-tasking: trolling through facebook to check out photos of friends, while texting back and forth with our Western Correspondent.

M’s town, out there on the edge of the Rockies, was in the crosshairs of the weather Armageddon that the networks are obsessing about, and M texted Molly that the temperatures were supposedly headed for 17 below.

“Better warn him to protect the equipment, Mistress …. They say once a body part suffers frost bite, it’s even more vulnerable the next time….”

We sure don’t want to see  UCTMW Worker’s comp premiums spike. Profit margins are pretty thin already, and can barely keep Mistress in power tools and tricked out black tights.

Mistress must have passed on the message. When the little text chime went off, she snickered.

“He wants to know when Donna is going to deliver his cock cozy…. He may need it this week.”

A bit later, Mistress was texting some more, and mentioned that M was complaining that he’s getting “fat”…. Has all that rehabilitation  made him a couch potato?

“I guess we could adopt a wellness program, Mistress …. Don’t want our far flung staff getting too thick… that’s going to drive up health care costs.

When M got wind of this possibility, he began layering on the demands …. Gym membership …. Massage therapist …. You get the picture.  I’m wondering if we can outsource his job to someone in India, who won’t abuse the expense account, but can still keep Mistress entertained with the occasional rampant cock shot?

Something to consider when we update the UCTMW strategic plan.

It was about that time that Mistress signed off with M, and I shut down the news feed.

“I told him we’re having sex now, Slave.”

And so we did.

But at around 4:15 am, I heard from Mistress again.

“I’m having trouble sleeping Slave….”

Hmmm. I wasn’t. But I do live to serve her.  I stifled a yawn, and did my best to respond.

“Would you like me to deploy your power tool, Mistress?”

I wasn’t too confident that the batteries on my organic tool had recharged sufficiently, if you know what I mean.

No, Slave…. I think I want the real one….”

I tried to wake myself, then sidled up next to her. Fingers slid between those familiar folds. Already damp. Teeth latched onto vibrant nipples. Deep kisses were exchanged as Mistress’s lovely body wound itself around mine.

Soon my fingers were having the desired effect, as Mistress moaned and writhed her way through a seemingly satisfying cum.

Would this make her drowsy?

Uhhh, No.

“How’s my cock, Slave….”

Her well manicured hands sought it out… and, I was surprised to discover that it was …. interested. Soon, with some additional provocation from Mistress’s skilled fingers, it was very interested. So interested that I was begging for the opportunity to demonstrate it’s intended purpose.

Not unlike a few hours earlier, this turned into one of those long drawn out affairs. At some point I took a break to slide off my T-Shirt.

“It’s getting hot in here, Mistress….”

“Yes, Slave…. Very.”

And when we were finally done – after permission was granted and taken – I slid back to sleep for a while, having served my purpose. But Mistress  -- she was up and running – on her lap-top, responding to office emails, checking the weather.  Very focused.

No wonder she’s the CEO. And I’m the lackey.

Mistress Gets Her Squirm On.

As Switch Day dawned here at the Collins family compound, I really had no specific plan for Mistress, though my bottom still had the faint memory of the cropping I had received the afternoon before.

I suppose some Slaves with a switch option in their contract might jump on the opportunity to “return the favor” particular when sporting fresh, hard earned welts.

But oddly, when Mistress gets all dommy with me – wields the crop and deploys her strap on – it really makes me a bit more subby, and much less inclined to highlight her own, much more shapely bottom with some tender red stripes.

Oops. Maybe I should not have disclosed such a weak-kneed proclivity.

In any event, after Mistress paged me, I brought her up the Sunday papers. We perused them for a while, before I handed her the laptop for her morning blog read. As is typical, I feaster on her parts, got the juices flowing, while she read my morning homework and scanned a few other blogs.

But then it was time for her to face the music.

I reached into our little bed side table, pulling out the red leather wrist cuffs, and the companion locks.

This was the cue for Mistress to wrap herself tightly in the covers.

“But its cold, Slave.. “

She does like to whine and wheedle.

But ultimately she was a good sport. Though she expressed a little surprise when I locked her wrists behind her back.

“What are you up to Slave?”

Then she squirmed some more – more complaints about the “frigid” air, as I reached for her ankles, linking them together under the covers with some leather binders.

This is where my improvisation began.

I don’t recall ever having Mistress in the classic hogtie position.

But there is a first time for everything.

And since I had decided to give her a pass on any serious cropping or spanking, I didn’t have to worry about full access to her lush bottom, did I?

A length of rope stuffed into that bedside drawer would provide the proper link. SO the covers came off, her legs were pulled up towards her wrists, and the connection was made. Not too strenuous…. But enough to make those strong muscles in shoulders and legs strain just a bit… and how does she look dear readers, all vulnerable and bound?

I took a few photos then.

“Remember Slave…. I get approval rights before any of those get posted….”

“Does that really apply on Switch Day, Mistress…. I’m not sure you’ve read the contract carefully….”

“You know it does, Slave….or you will really be in trouble….”

Can anyone recommend a good ball gag vender. I do think that might be a good addition to our toy box.

After our little photo shoot, I slid down onto the bed next to Mistress, stroking her with my fingers, nibbling a bit at the lovely expanse of helpless flesh on display for me.

“You really are quite beautiful like this Mistress….”

She just cooed into the pillow a bit as I explored a bit. the squirming had begun.

But then I reached for the Hitachi, parked, as usual, just under our bed. I thumbed it on.

“Don’t put it on ‘Hi’ Slave….”

“Ohhh. Listen to you, still giving orders….”

But I had no reason to put it on “hi”…. Not hurray here.

The business end of the pwer tool slid nicely between her thighs from behind… probably not exactly where Mistress would place it if she was at the controls…. But then that was the fun part…. Seeing her wriggle, squirm and buck a bit to get just the right purchase….

Yum.

Her musky scent was beginning to fill the room. A slight sheen of perspiration was springing forth.

“Still cold, Mistress….”

“Uhhh… guess not, Slave….”

“remember, you must ask for permission….”

“Yes Slave….. “

She seemed to be in the spirit of things now…. Wriggling to and frow, straining to spread bound legs just enough to get her sodden parts just where that little churning machine could do its optimal work.

“May I come now, Slave… please…..”

Who could deny such a pitiful request. Well, sometimes I could… but not yesterday…

“Of course you may, Mistress…. Go for it…”

I could tell she had been holding back … just a bit…. maybe afraid that I would say “no”…

So it took her a good 30 seconds or so to get full cummy momentum and then plunge full speed over the edge…. Humping the mattress, and moaning into her pillow. After the aftershocks subsided, she suggested that had been enough.

“You can stop it now, Slave.”

But I didn’t. She didn’t seem so desperate for the end… not just yet. I “cruelly” forced one more out of her, her leg muscles straining, shoulder and arms stretching as she tried with a certain delicious determination to clutch at the tool as it took her back over the precipice one more time.

By now her body was nice and sticky with a combination of salty perspiration and her juices…

“Now Slave…. Please turn it off.”

“As you wish, Mistress….”

I let her rest a bit, cuddling next to her, as I untied the rope that connected wrists to feet. Then I took off the leather cuffs at her ankles, letting her stretch and rest a bit.

She wiggled her wrists.

“What about these, Slave?”

“Ohhh… not done yet, Mistress….”

My next little experiment was having her ride my cock with wrists bound….

It took a little more effort than you might imagine. Her body was a little tired and tight, but with some helpful pushing and prodding I had her up and over me, and her fingers were quite helpful in guiding my firm and friendly cock where it was destined to be.

Suffice it to say that Mistress, once on top, got into the sprit of things…

Her bound hands were at just the right position to toy with my balls, even as my fingers could tweek helpless nipples.

“I bet M would like this, Mistress making you ride his cock with your hands all helpless….”

“Mmmmm….”

Her eyes were shut tight… envisioning it no doubt.

“And I bet you’d enjoy that too, wouldn’t you….”

“I would, Slave…”

Make a note, M.

Soon she was coming again, with a loud moan of surrender to her desires, then collapsing onto me. As I hugged her close, my cock still sliding into her, but at a more relaxed pace, I realized that I had taken her about as far as seemed fair on our little Switch Day.

So I helped her roll over, unfastened her wrists, let her stretch out a bit, then took my own reward.

And it’s funny how, even on Switch Day, things always seem to end with me asking for her permission to come.

Mistress Gets Feisty

It was a busy Saturday here  at the UCTMW World HQ.

Carrying forth with yesterday’s Sit-Com analogy, this could be one of those back to back episode extravaganzas …. And yet, well, I have some Switch Day planning to do this morning.  Need to save some creative energy for that, don’t I?

So, roll the cutsey pooh credits, and let her rip……

Episode One:

Mistress was a horny little slut yesterday morning, if I may be so bold.

As she read the blog, and some of the comments that had already filtered in, I was buried between her muscular thighs under the sheet, lavishing her sodden folds with plenty of attention. And once the lap-top was set aside, she had a little amuse- bouche of an orgasm, complements of my tongue, sort of getting her appetite revved up for what would be served up next.

She pulled me up and next to her, grappling for my cock. It was already beginning to rise to the occasion, but with Mistress subtle (well, really not so subtle) grip, I was soon begging for permission to fuck her….and it took her a while to agree. She was amused by my pitiful pleas, it seemed.

But when she finally did agree to my entreaties, much to my desperate gratification, she threw a change up.

“Do me from behind, Slave….”

Hmmm… something that had been left off the menu for a few weeks. I was wondering what made Mistress want to go in this direction – some smutty little fantasy about our Western Correspondent I suspected – but I was happy to play my supporting role in it.

With some help from Mistress’s fingers I found my way in from behind, and made sure I pumped her with the type of fervid rhythm that seems to press the buttons for her in this position. And since it’s not a position that Slave readily comes in, well, all the better for Mistress, right? She knew I would not be annoying her with a request to come any time soon.

It was hard to tell if Mistress came that way, as I pressed her body hard against the mattress, sliding in and out with a good pace from behind….but after a while, it was another change-up from her.

“I want to be on top now, Slave….”

“Of course, Mistress….”

Hmmm….. more high energy from Mistress. 

I slid off and over, rolling onto my back…. Mistress commented on my rather prominent cock, pointing up at her at a right angle from my tummy, like an old Atlas rocket about to chase down Sputnik and put it in its place (or was it Spud-Nut? … DM Sarah P., she would know….)

Quickly Mistress mounted me, and it was not long before she was squeezing those sultry green eyes shut, moaning and quaking with one of those seismic cums that seem to visit her in this position…. She was reaching back now, fondling my balls, and I was so close, but not …just …. there.  

Arghhhh.

And I could tell Mistress was getting tired riding my cock, so I suggested we roll over…

She seemed grateful, sliding off me, then onto her back….and I was on top of her lickity split. Not long thereafter, it was Slave begging for permission, and Mistress generously saying “Yes, my Slave…”

That was my cue to go for it. It seemed I came in a long series of spasms, before collapsing back onto her soft, warm body.

At this point Slave could have gone back to sleep, cuddled next to her…. Brain and body dead like a piece of fully depreciated livestock.

But Mistress was  not quite done.

“Hand me the Hitachi, Slave…..”

Wow. Some guys might feel that their services had come up short under such circumstances. But, call me cocky, I knew I had left it all on the field….

On this particular morning, Mistress’s needs were just a little more than something a mere cock could handle, and I had no shame in reaching under the bed and thumbing her power tool on for her.

I sidled next to her as the churning device slid under the sheets. I happily took on the role of supporting actor, gnawing on a nipple, then probing her mouth with my tongue, as she took matters into her own hands.

And soon she was bucking up against the machine’s soft churning bulb, her head thrown back, moaning with the final release of a well earned climax to our morning’s adventures.

At that point we both drifted off, spent….

Episode Two

So I was down in the bowels of the UCTMW World HQ, painting a door to our garage. (Yes, your humble Executive Editor / General Counsel / Risk Management Analyst also acts as weekend maintenance technician here in River City).

Mistress wandered downstairs, calling for me. I looked up. She had a phone pressed to her ear.

“I have the WC on the phone, Slave…. And he reminds me that you are due a punishment.”

Huh?

Apparently, our Western Correspondent was buttonholing our Boss, playing some office politics, whilst I am tending to mundane company business. He had been taking the CEO aside and throwing me under the bus. No doubt he’s angling for a fancier title and my corner office. 

But I stifled my complaints….biding my time.  There will be payback … maybe I will send the IRS a bogus 1099 from “UCTMW Enterprises” in M’s name. Let the WC explain that one to his accountant.

“No doubt he’s right, Mistress.”

 “Why don’t you finish up soon down here Slave, and meet me in our bedroom.”

She went back upstairs, still chatting with flirtatious animation to M….

I soon had one coat of dark green paint on the door, and put my supplies away. After washing up, I headed upstairs, where Mistress, done with her talk, soon joined me.

“Get out my supplies, Slave.”

I knew exactly what she meant. The strap-on and its faux cock. The lube.

“And make sure you get me the riding crop too….”

I laid her supplies on the bed. She snapped a photo of the crop, and texted it off to M, letting him in on what was to come.  No doubt he would be amused that the seed he had planted would soon be sprouting.

I did not have to ask whether to strip off my pants and underwear, as Mistress slid into her harness. Soon she was ready for action, riding crop in hand.

”On your stomach Slave…. And be still….”

Of course, I complied, but asked, “and why am I  being punished, Mistress….”

“You know why….”

The first blow landed with a stinging surprise.

Yow.

“I am not sure, Mistress….”

Dumb move.

Two more had me squirming, trying to suppress my verbal complaints by chomping on a pillow.

“You were a real ass-hole twice this week, Slave….”

Yes. True. Two drives to work where Mistress had to tell me to “stifle”.

Are we sounding like Archie and Edith here? But with the roles reversed? Could be.

After the fourth blow, I was more than ready to admit my sins. But the blows kept raining down, and they sure hurt. 

Damn they hurt.

Unrestrained, I could not avoid rolling over and away at one point, to avoid the crop that Mistress was wielding so effectively. But her stern look made me realize that would only extend the punishment. So I sucked it up and submitted….

It’s at moments like these that I wish I had more padding back there.

But, at last, Mistress relented.

Sitting next to me and running her warm, now merciful hands along my ass. The fire was already receding, but she oohed and ahhed a bit.

“Oh my…. What nice red welts you have, Slave….”

She reached for her I-phone, snapped a photo, fiddled with her keyboard. I’m not sure if one went to M, but one went to my email account. I was instructed to show it to you all today….

Then she handed me the lube after applying a generous amount to her “cock”. 

“Are you ready for the next part, Slave.”

I was. This would be a picnic, compared to that crop.

She found her little target with no difficulty, then began pumping home.

I have a feeling that her warm up act -the process of making me writhe in pain for her, all my exclamations of agony - actually may have enhanced her own … arousal.

Because it was really only a matter of about 90 seconds… at least so it seemed …. Before she was coming hard and long with against my ass with those tell-tale spasms of ecstasy.

“Wow, Mistress…. I think you liked that….”

“Yes…. I did Slave…. Very satisfying….”

She was sliding out of me now, dropping her harness onto the floor for me to clean up and pack away afterwards….

“Why don’t you go insert your little device, and get back here and fuck me….”

I did not have to think twice about toeing that particular line.

Is this Just Another Sit-Com?

Thursday night, as Mistress, her Slave and our WC toyed with one another between episodes of The Office and Parks and Recreation, I realized that the primitive appeal of the network Sit-Com has a lot in common with what makes those of us in this little community keep coming back to each others’ blogs, day after day.

Whether it was Taxi, Seinfeld, Mary Tyler Moore, or the current more exotic crop of shows like Californication, the appeal of those silly confections is the same: a familiar, endearing, yet quirky cast of characters, doing what they do, week after week, year after year, with only a subtle change up, or new character thrown into the mix to extend the shelf life just a little longer.

After a while, characters like Sam Malone, Mary Richards, George Castanza and the rest become part of your extended “family”, imaginary as they may be. You develop a bit of an addiction to see what might happen to them next.


So what are we all doing here? (Actually, the better question is what are YOU all doing here?)

Here at UCTMW we really don’t do much every day that is all that different. Sex in the morning. A little afternoon worship. Occasional phone sex with the WC before bed, or over the weekend.

I try to throw a change-up every now and then. And there are often some cheesecake photos of the lovely Mistress to distract and amuse…..

But we are not inclined to a whole lot of self-analysis or introspection. What do you expect from an aging Irish guy who picked an Irish street fighter as his blog-o-sphere namesake? Navel gazing? No way.

Yet we still are getting more than 1000 page views everyday. More than 600 “unique” visitors stop by most days. And about 150 of you are repeat voyeurs daily.

I suspect what draws you here is a certain familiarity and comfort with our “characters”, despite a very thin plot line.

Will the WC recover from frozen cock syndrome?

Will Molly ever jump on a plane for a surprise visit to our Western office to conduct an audit of his expense account and inspect that Special occasion equipment?

Will someone ever try to open Mick’s office door just as Mistress is coming?


It’s not unlike wondering whether Lou Grant will ever make a pass at Mary Richards?

Or whether Sam will finally end up in bed with Diane?


We may well be the Burns and Allen of sex bloggers. But we are having fun, and our aim is to spread the good humour and kinky vibes to a broader audience.

And why do we follow you?

We are amazed by Tammy’s seemingly unlimited willingness to submit so completely to the demands of Suzanne, Jay and all those friends and relatives?

And we need to know whether Suzanne will end up being the subject of our Western Correspondent’s ass-fucking tutorial after the Super Bowl?

Over at “Jumping on In”, we follow SFP’s revolving cast of characters, which are taking on the quirky depth and variety of Jerry Sienfeld’s stable of dates.

And we wonder if Aisha will negotiate her way into the clutches of the mystery Dom who lives so far away.

Of course, one difference is the opportunity to comment, email, text and phone one another, that allows us to barge onto the pages of another little blog world and kibitz a bit. Our chance to meet Aisha and D, and visit their down river dungeon, was almost like Lou and Mary showing up on the set of “All in the Family”. Improbable, but lots of fun.

But enough of this over analysis. True to the spirit of this entry, I need to catch you up, if briefly on events here on the Collins family set.

First, Molly blushed a bit to all those lovely comments you left yesterday about her Ass. Yes, I feel like the comedian who holds one hand up to stop the applause, while the other hand is inviting more.

And at some point yesterday morning, she texted me about a specific comment.

“Sin wants to see that picture of you in the cock-cage. …We’ll see.” It’s on her phone, so it’s up to her to pass it on, folks. So far I have been spared.

And M and Mistress were tossing other photos back and forth via text and email during the day. It seems that M and his wife B dined at a restaurant in their hometown at lunchtime. When M described it to Molly, she passed on a photo of she and her Slave dining at the very same place in the summer of 2008.

Odd Serendipity.

After a trip to the gym at the end of the work day, Mistress and Slave had a “picnic” to catch up on the latest episode of “Big Love” (dark, very dark this season), then retired to bed.

Actually, Mistress retired first, as I cleaned our dishes. What else would a Slave do?

As I entered our bedroom, Mistress was under a blanket, naked. And on the phone.

“It’s M, Slave…. He asked me to call.”

“Would you like me to go downstairs and give you two lovebirds some privacy, Mistress?”

“No Slave…. Just get ready for bed.”

They chatted as I stripped down, then settled into bed next to her. I picked up my laptop to review your comments and to check out Suzanne’s weekend plans. Like her at the end of the day, Mistress was still a bit sweaty from our trip to the gym, and I planned to make sure she was tongued clean before bedtime.

Mistress and M talked about the comment he had left on our blog, asking UCTMW to treat him to the attentions of a $500/hr. massage therapist to bring that sad, frozen cock back to full health. I couldn’t resist making a comment.

“That’s higher than your hourly rate, Mistress….”

“M… the Slave says that’s too much … why don’t I just come out there and give you all the therapy you need…. And I could audit your expense account records while I am at it?”

At about this point, after leaving a few pithy comments on some of your blogs, I had to intervene. Setting aside the laptop, I settled in between Mistress’s tangy, salty thighs.

“He’s at it again, M…. what is a Mistress to do?”

But she hardly pushed me aside, and I could tell M had gotten with the program. Soon Mistress was cooing back at him with all those “Yes, M….. I would M……” phrases, that tell me she is getting into the “zone” with his highly skilled verbal assistance.

And I don’t need to tell you what happened next…..the bucking, moaning, the scissored legs squeezing my balding head. Clearly, two guys can do Mistress much better than one.

And once Mistress and M signed off, I received the dividend.

Hopefully, M got his own reward before the night was out.

And since this blog was a bit of a retrospective, I’ve added a photo above from the UCTMW annals that is a bit of a flashback, particularly for our Western Correspondent.

It appeared very early on these pages, back in  2009.

M says that when he saw it, he knew that Mick and Molly were in territory not too far from his own. Apparently it piqued an interest that led, step by step, to his current and ever evolving relationship with Mistress and UCTMW Enterprises.

Considering how long it took Diane to finally nail Sam Malone (or was it the reverse?), there is plenty of time to draw this little comedic soap opera out.