Mistress Gets "Busted", As America Counts Down to Super Bowl

It’s not yet dawn here in River City on Super Sunday, the secular holy day that has been created in my own lifetime. I am old enough to remember the tedious match up in a semi-full stadium between these same Packers and the Kansas City Chiefs back in January 1967, when I was a Junior in High School.

Who da thunk the media hype machine could turn it into something so ludicrously important that our part of the world comes to a screeching halt to pay homage to these gods in their tight pants and helmets, doing their victory dances. Don’t you wonder what the circus will be like 100 years from now? Will it be bigger than Christmas?

And do you think the folks on Tahrir Square will make sure they have big TV screens so they can follow our gladiators as they take the field tonight? …. I’m thinking they have more important things in mind.

The most bizarre data reported this week was not about the Packers chances of winning when they can complete more than two 30 yard pass plays in a game, but that the mortality rate from heart attacks and strokes in the City that loses the Super Bowl is likely to spike this week in the range of 15-20%. And, strangely, more for women than for men.Super Bowl Hazardous to Your Health

So for those of us who root for teams like the underachieving Patriots, the rebuilding Broncos, or the perpetually sad Bengals, there is a bright side. You and your loved ones are less likely to die this week than if we were in Green Bay or Pittsburgh.

That’s not to say we won’t be glued to the TV here at the UCTMW World HQ tonight with a motley group of our vanilla friends, feasting on Mistress’s chili and quaffing beer, wine and tequila.

Who can resist the spectacle?

But wouldn’t it be so much more fun to have a sex bloggers watch party.

In particular, we’d like to watch Suzanne squirm as the dreaded Stillers take the lead in the 4th quarter, as their battle hardened big game focus kicks in. She really does have her Ass on the line. She has tied the fate of her virgin orifice to the Packers this evening, and we have used satellite imagery to capture this photo of what seems to be her, prepping for game time.

Good luck, Suzanne! Will Tammy be wearing a cheesehead to go with his maid’s outfit? (actually milk maid wear would be particularly choice for this occasion).

You certainly look better than some of the fans of the dreaded Stillers, with the quaterback who can’t seem to keep his fly up.

And speaking of Asses, we are winding down our Ass Week festivities here today. Actually, we’ve probably hit bottom on this particular promotion.

Not that we don’t have an unlimited quantity of lovely ass shots from Mistress, the one above being another excellent example.

But there was one photo op I missed yesterday.

We had been out with our Surly teen #2, at a meeting to explore options for some overseas study for her next school year. When we returned home, it seemed like a good time for a “nap”, and Slave and Mistress headed to our chambers. But not long after we were settling into bed, Mistress’s I-phone chimed.

“It’s M, Slave… he wants me to call.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

They talked a bit as I perused the Times next to her. But then there was a page from one of the teens. They needed some help, and Slave was volunteered to provide it.

“Come back soon, Slave.”

Well, as it turns out, I came back a bit too soon.

About 15 minutes later, I opened out bedroom door, to find the “shocking” image if Mistress curled up under the covers, moaning ever so softly as she mumbled smutty endearments into the phone. And there was the tell tale hum of the Hitachi providing a little background thrum.

She was so focused on her wanton activity that she did not notice my intrusion.

I could have grabbed my camera, and photographed her, but then all that would have been seen was a body sized lump cowering under our blue comforter.

Nothing to see here, I suppose. But there was plenty to hear. And smell.

Instead, like a good Slave, I decided to give Mistress a bit more privacy and close the door quietly.

About 15 minutes later I was paged…..

“Mick…. Come back up stairs.”

She was a tad embarrassed when I explain how she had been “busted”.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Oh… maybe 3 Slave.”

With all that activity Mistress seemed sated , so it really was nap time. Happily, Slave got his opportunity after a nice snooze, before we headed to dinner with some friends.

Later, after dinner, we came home planning to cuddle up for some sleep. But first we discovered the clever interplay between our Southern and Western Correspondents over the WC’s apparent inability to engineer a proper ass shot. (They are in the comments to yesterday’s blog, so check them out).

“But he’s offered up a cock photo, Mistress, in lieu of the Ass shot?”

She was not amused.

“That’s a terrible idea, Slave.”

Mistress is very sensitive about the notion of our WC offering up his special occasion equipment for more public inspection.

AS it turned out, M was available by phone, and Mistress dialed him up.

I got to listen in on her part of the talk, which was …. Cute.

“M, I really don’t like the idea of you advertising that cock of yours….”

“Ask him what type of blog he thinks we are, Mistress…. I mean, we do have some standards! “

Mistress laughed, passed this on. M seemed to be getting the point. In the meantime, she was ordering me around a bit.

“Slave, please pull off my boots and stick them in that box in the closet. I can’t hold the phone and do that too.”

I did as directed, as Mistress lay back on the bed, dressing down our WC in a honeyed tone.

“You know, M, If our female readers get a look at it, the next thing you know you will have a whole stable competing for the chance to inspect it first hand.”

He seemed to be getting her point, and I was getting more directions.

“Slave, now unzip my pants, slide them off, and fold them nicely.”

She indicated where her black pants should be stored, as she chatted on.

Well we weren’t planning any more “activity”, but all this talk about cocks and her firm and directive matter naturally brought me to her knees, face sliding up those warm inner thighs.

“You can imagine what’s happening here now, M…. he’s down on his knees like a good Slave.”

And I was, sliding aside the panel of her lacy maroon thong. Inhaling that musky aroma that drives this Slave to distraction, and getting to work.

Soon M was doing his bit, and Mistress was moaning in that slutty way, “Yes…. M. No…. M….. I would, M.”

Her thighs squeezed my head tightly as she came with a sudden shudder, head thrown back on the bed. Suddenly her concerns about M flaunting the special occasion cock were put to bed.

And not long after, so were we.

Special Collector's Edition: The Asses of UCTMW.

As we build to a crescendo here at UCTMW for our special  week long ass-travaganza, we bring you a collection of asses from our burgeoning staff.

First and foremost, (see, I have learned my lesson), we have Mistress, who posed in my office yesterday afternoon. She stopped by for some post-lunch worship, striding in with those black tights and boots that have become a fashion signature.

“How was your lunch, Mistress?”

I closed the door behind her, reaching for the chair that would slide up against it, providing our only security from prying eyes or intruding colleagues.

“Good Slave…. I think C (her female lunch mate, who is an out of the closet lesbian) has a bit of a crush on me….”

“Who can blame her, Mistress”.

By now the maroon blanket is spread across the chair, and Mistress is seated, sliding off one boot and pealing off one leg of her tights.

Mistress has, on occasion dallied with female companions, but, as she said to the last one she found her self in bed with, “I really do need a good cock ….”

By now I was on my knees, beginning to dig in.

“And then I saw L, who was there having lunch with some other guy.”

L is a local corporate lion, who has shown some … interest ….in Mistress over the years.

“Did he flirt, Mistress?”

“You could call it that. He said we needed to have lunch soon. I gave him my card. “

He is definitely a prospect, either as a client, or….. maybe both.

All of this chitchat gets both of our motors running, and Mistress’s legs were now spread, her juices slickening my face. It was not long before her hips were rising off her chair, and her leg was wrapped around my neck as she came for me with a stifled moan.

I let her rest a bit, but did not move, and soon my mouth was back at work, providing a little bonus orgasm before she headed back to her desk, just two blocks south of mine.

It is a convenient arrangement, when you think of it.

But before she rearranged her outfit, I asked for a photo op.

“How about an ass shot, leaning across my desk.”

As you can see, she was very accommodating. And I was sorely tempted to take advantage by loosening my belt and dropping trou.  But there are limits to my madness at work. Believe it or not.

I did text the shot off to our Western Correspondent, wit the caption “Office Ass”.

He promptly responded, “That’s taunting.”

Fortunately, it did not cost me 15 yards.

After Mistress headed back to work, I noticed an email from Donna, our Southern Correspondent.  She contributed the following shot, sporting red in line with the day’s theme over at All Mine, and among the media. (Mistress had not gotten that memo).  As she noted, this is an excellent specimen for a woman just past 50, don’t you all think?

Last evening, long before deadline, she sent another contribution, selected by her hubbie Bill, who is known for occasional corporal punishment. (Donna- we need a dispatch on that subject from you!)  “Bill says this is his favorite butt shot … taken from his collection.”

I will let our readers decide which one they prefer.

Well that left only your Editor and our Western Correspondent unaccounted for on this UCTMW ass line-up. You all have seen mine several times before, but here is one from the annals:

Yesterday, as I was planning the layout for today’s issue, I made a simple request to our WC for a shot of his Ass to include in our “ASS WEEK” special edition.

Well I awoke here in River City, opened the email, and lo and behold …. Nada. The WC is doing his best to live up the  journalistic malpractice of his hero, Dr. Hunter S, Thompson, who never met a deadline he could meet. No doubt he is still on his extended leave, nursing his frozen cock back to lifel

Fortunately, I do have resources. I trolled through the video of the surveillance cameras installed outside our Mountain Time branch office and came up with this alluring shot. Could this be our WC, resting after one of those legendary bike rides?

Since we have never actually met, M, I can only assume that this “baggage” belongs to him, though I suppose this fellow could be a ghostwriter M has buried on his expense account, to keep the office humming while he focuses on more important thing, like the care and feeding of that legendary special occasion cock.

Whoever, just don’t try on a tool belt!

Ass Week Can Have a Bottom SIde Too.

This brief counter-programming from the hype down on Dallas has built a little momentum.

Over at “Jumping On In”, SFP caught the spirit, with a cute little illustration dedicated to her “friend” D. SFP

When Mistress saw SFP's illustration she said, "I think her ass looks better than mine Slave." I was not taking sides, only commenting that both were excellent examples of the genre. This is not a competition! But of course Mistress knows how much I value hers.

And Tammy’s slender but well used ass caught a little extra attention from Suzanne’s strap-on over at ALL MIne.

Meanwhile, Slave’s butt got some attention on Wednesday that was a tad embarrassing.

I was at my Doctor’s office, which is affiliated with a large teaching hospital. As I am waiting in the examining room, my doctor sticks his head in, and asks if I would mind answering some of those typical screening questions by a 3rd year medical student he is training in the witchcraft of modern medical practice.

It’s happened before, and of course I had no problems with the concept.

Shortly thereafter in steps a rather tall female student, mid-20’s perhaps – not particularly alluring but clearly competent. We talked through her questions – all bland enough – my exercise habits, any complaints, medications, etc.

Soon my doctor joined us, flipping open his laptop, reviewing blood tests, and so on. All very pleasant.

Then the question that somehow I had forgot to antitcipate:

“Has it been 12 months since someone felt your prostate?”


Uhhhh……

Well, I mumbled out a “yes”, trying to put aside those Saturday ass fuckings that Mistress sometimes indulges me with. Or is she indulging herself?

“OK, well we’ll take care of that today…..”

Now I know many of our female readers are quite accustomed to intimate exams by male doctors.

But old Mick…. Never had to turn that particular table.

After following his instructions to strip to my undies and socks, He performed the preliminaries as his female student observed closely. The mouth and ears were examined. I did the breathing thing as he used that stethoscope. He had her feel my abdomen for some strange anomaly that went over my head.

Then it was time.

“OK, Mick, stand up and pull down your shorts. You can just lean over the table right here…..”

I was a big boy and complied.


I could hear the sound of the gloves snapping over someone’s fingers. But for the life of me, I could not tell which fingers were about to do their duty work on me.

“Now bear down.”

Of course, I am not unaccustomed to this sort of invasion. But the presence of this female student I had just had the pleasure of meeting was, shall we say, a tad humiliating.

“See, in here you can feel both sides…..”

His fingers were clearly the ones rooting away in there. A relief. And fortunately this little “show and tell” episode did not involve the student getting her own turn.

AS you can imagine, Mistress was amused when I shared this story.

“I guess you’re lucky I didn’t make you wear the cage today, Slave.”

Yeah, that might be a little hard to explain.

I did wear the cage yesterday though. Molly stayed home a bit longer Thursday, so she could squeeze in a date with M.

And last night, we had a reception for folks in my office, so we got home late, and a little tipsy.

As we lay there, catching up on the blogs, I asked Mistress how her date had gone.

“Oh it was nice, Slave.”

“How many, Mistress….”

“Probably 3 or 4. The WC was into all sorts of stories about what a spanking he would give me…. At home…. At a party in front of lots of people.”

“I see he’s gotten into the spirit of ass week too.”

“Yes… he says he’d give me a much crueler spanking than the wimpy ones you administer.”

“I guess that’s a challenge Mistress.”

But of course I kept my bluster to a minimum. Mistress still had not unlocked my cage.

HNT / Planning a Ski Trip as Ass Week Continues

Our second entry for Ass Week here at UCTMW is a shot from a recent switch day. You can’t see it, but Mistress’s legs are tied tightly to the bed. Her arms are cuffed and likewise bound to the bed. I enjoyed seeing her wriggle that lovely ass as she tried to get the power tool positioned just right. It took her a lot of time. And a lot of energy. By the time she finally was begging for position to come, the poor dear was all tuckered out. But it seemed the effort was worth it…..

Hope that gets the jaws flapping over at All Mine. We like the idea of getting Suzanne’s gents in trouble.

And speaking of Jay, Tammy and Suzanne, well, actually we were -- at our local watering hole last night.

The Great Storm of 2011 was petering out here – River City had just received a glancing blow – and a gentle snow was falling on the quiet streets of our little town. The brutal wind had died off. It seemed like a nice night to bundle up and walk down to our “local”. As Mistress sipped her Amaretto, and I my Jamieson, we talked about an upcoming ski getaway at the end of this month.

“You know, Mistress. Jay and Tammy sometimes ski together. Maybe we should invite the three of them to join us out there sometime….”

“Hmmmm….. that would be interesting….”

Mistress raised an eyebrow. Her curiosity was piqued.

“It sure would be nice to have someone else to help with the chores.”

I was thinking Tammy doing some light dusting, as I carted in wood for the fire, or maybe cleared some dead brush in preparation for spring. It might be natural for our chores to break down into the traditional “house slave” / “field slave” categories.

“But where would they sleep, Slave?”

“Well, if they joined us, they could have the guest bedroom and the “office” (with its fold out couch) to divide up as they saw fit, Mistress…. We wouldn’t want to micromanage.”

Then again, there are some lovely B & B’s nearby, should they want a little more privacy.

“I suppose that might work, Slave.”

“Of course the pecking order would be a little more complicated wouldn’t it?”

“How do you mean, Slave?”

“Well you have to admit that Suzanne, is a lot more Dommish than you are. And Tammy, certainly is required to submit much more thoroughly than me….and on Switch Day, well, the permutations are unlimited.”

“It would certainly be intriguing, Slave….maybe I could get Suzanne to give me a few pointers on how to manage you better…. I bet she thinks I’m a little too indulgent.”

“No doubt, Mistress … No doubt …. And since she seems so generous with Tammy’s attentions, we might even get to have  a little “worship-off” – I wonder who could get you off faster only using lips and tongue?”

Not that speed in necessarily a good thing Maybe we could devise a scoring system.

As we walked home through the snow, watching our footing as best we could, the talk turned to how the Western Correspondent would react to these arrangements.

“My guess - it would drive him crazy, Mistress.  He’d want to be in on the ‘action’”.

“Well he certainly has been invited in the past, Slave…. And he’s only a few hours away.”

“Knowing he might get a glimpse of all these characters that enrich his smutty fantasy life would make a quick drive south rather hard to resist….”

Back at home we shed the thick coats and prepared for bed. And, sure enough, there was a text from the WC, asking if Mistress had time to chat.

I offered to leave the room, but she demurred.

“No, Slave…. Get into bed next to me.”

They talked  a bit about their day, and she shared our little speculations about inviting the All Mine crew out West for a long ski weekend.

“Mick says it would drive you batty to miss that gathering, M….”

Of course, I did not catch the response.  Just Mistress’s giggles, and the subtle little signals her body sends off when she is stoking her infatuation with our WC.

And soon I was setting aside the Sports page from the Times to do what this Slave does best.

“He’s at it again M, under the sheets… attacking me with his lips ….”

And M quickly got with the program. Mistress soon was focused on his voice as I acted as the instrument of whatever crude fantasy he was spinning for her.  Mistress took her time, building to a lovely crescendo, all the while murmuring to him those sweet little phrases ….

“Yes…. M….I would M….”

Oh, I am sure she would.

Mistress had one of those hip bucking, leg scissoring cums,  with the benefit of our mutual attention. Then she rolled over and whispered some sweet good nights to M. They confirmed their plans for a “date” this morning, after Mistress attends a little conference with Surly Teen #2’s guidance counselor.

I guess that means it’s a cock cage day for me…. Better remember to slide on that ring before I go out into the cold and retrieve the newspapers.

Stay warm out there!