From our Senior Correspondent ... "Players"

(Molly, Mick and the two surly teens are now parked at DFW airport, cooling our heals. We still have a flight to ABQ and a 3 hour drive to our mountain hideaway to look forward to.  But presuming we make it, we look forward to waking up to the beautiful mountain, the sun rising and lighting up our bedroom. When that happens the long trip will have been worthwhile.  Of course, Slave won't be in a state of mind for posting in the a.m.  There will be a Mistress to please, and then wrestling all that ski paraphenalia up the mountain for a day on the slopes.  So,  I asked our Senior Correspondent to pitch in.... and like the hard working over achiever that she is, she delivered.... have a good Saturday, all. And thank you, Donna.)

I tutored football players as a means of making ends meet while in college and one player, in particular, I dated more than a few times. He was a good looking hulk of a guy. One evening we went to a movie house and watched some dull and desperate film required for his humanities class. We shared a few brews followed by some kissy face and some hand wandering and, since I was still living in the dorm and had a prude as a roommate, a trip to his apartment. I was so jazzed, so anxious to experience this sexy looking man that I worked extra hard to ignore the stench from his dirty gym clothes strewn here and there and the stained jock strap on the kitchen counter. With firm resolve to scrub my entire body with Comet upon returning to my dorm, I leaned into Mr. Football and we began the dance of…something.

Have you ever seen birds copulate? If you blink, you’ll miss it. And, bless his heart, Rocco was the same way. I tried to get him to slow down, to let me help him a bit in this endeavor as I did in his academic subjects, but he only knew and wanted missionary position and as fast as he was on his feet on the football field, he was also that fast to the goal line in the bedroom. I was left with that old Peggy Lee song running through my head, Is That All There Is? Tilt! We tried again, repeatedly in fact, but the poor guy only knew that one pattern and wasn’t interested in trying anything new or even hearing about anything different. He passed his classes and I admit that I was not terribly saddened by his move to another city. 

Now before you write me off as a monster, let me assure you that if he had given me any inkling that he might be willing to let lovemaking be a team sport (for the two of us not the entire football team…although that might have had some merit, too) I would have been happy to continue dating him. But I knew I needed something that a sprinter couldn’t offer. And I couldn’t have been too cruel because he continued to call me from time to time hoping we could get back together, even the morning that Bill and I were married.

Bill and I have been friends since we were kids. My brother was his best friend so we were around one another a great deal as teenagers. Initially, of course, not together in a sexual way but as found we had a teasing streak in common and that we understood the undercurrents to one another’s jokes, things heated up. Even as young people Bill and I were good lovers. With plenty of foreplay and a bit of bondage we would begin building the mood and then shifting gears, we would kick it up and over into reckless abandon.  Adding in a few spanks and a bite or two from Bill and we were both headed over the edge! We didn’t know what it was really called (the kinky part) but we knew we both liked it and knew that is wasn’t all that common. Then, as often happens, we went our separate ways after high school, Bill toward the land of Hurricanes and me toward Gatorland.

By the time we found one another again a few years after college, we had both had enough sexual experiences to recognize that together we had something special not shared by many. Bill had developed his Dom nature and, while a tough cookie outside our home, my need to be submissive in the bedroom was clear to us both. We didn’t have much club experience, and the internet wasn’t available the way it is now, but for us it has always been about BDSM and love. I firmly believe that to leave out either component would have left both of us wanting and incomplete.

Every once in a while someone will ask me whether it has been boring being with the same man all these years. My answer is “Hell , No! When Bill mounts me from behind like the wild stallion that he is, it feels powerful and animalistic and it is a wonderful thing! As he reaches around to twist my nipples and pinch and swat my clit, I scream with that mix of pain and delight known only to the kinky.”

Of course, by that point whoever asked me that question is usually backward away…very slowly. 

Mistress Gets Tag Teamed

We had headed home a little early, with the hope of a bike ride. But the cold damp gray weather had returned. I used my still unshaken cold as an excuse.

“It’s 43 degrees, Mistress, and seems even colder. I think I will spare my throat and lungs, but feel free.”

Fortunately, she had the good judgment to join me instead, upstairs for a little pre-dinner rest time. I paged through the Times, she tinkered with her new Kindle, then I asked the question. It was hard not to notice she was down to that black lacy thong and a matching bra.

“Would you like some worship, Mistress?”

It had been since our morning sexual adventures, so I suspected she was in some degree of need.

“I thought you’d never ask, Slave.”

I slid out of bed, about to go to my knees, when the text message chime went off.

“Why don’t you check that for me, Slave.”

I peered at her little screen and chuckled.

“It the WC, Mistress, he says he’s driving home if you want to give him a call.”

He’s back from that little holiday, rested and ready it seems.

“But we’re about to have some worship, Slave….it can wait”

“No reason we can’t kill two birds with the same stone, Mistress.”

She signaled me to hand her the land line phone (yes, we are retro and still have one), and as she dialed him up, I was on my knees, shifting aside the shielding panel of that lovely thong.

Of course, I could only hear part of the conversation.

“So Slave was about to worship, but I thought I would give you a call anyway.”

Her hips shifted a it, allowing me to get a better angle on those clean shaven parts.

“No, it’s no problem, he’s just going ahead as we talk, M.”

As I went to work they chatted a bit about their respective days. Sounds like the WC had some catching up to do at the office, after some “epic” sex with B.

But soon, Mistress seemed a little more focused both on the words M was whispering in her ear, and my suctioning her little bud between my lips.

Her hips were rising to meet my mouth, her words had turned to little murmurs of approval, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut.

Soon she was writhing about the bed, making it barely possible to keep my oral grip on her…. In fact I think I resorted to holding her hips in place with my hands.

I was now grateful that I had turned on Brian Williams to stifle her cries from the curious ears of the surly teens, just down the hall.

“Wow….. that was good M…. and Slave too.”

They continued to talk, rotating back to the more mundane, our upcoming spring break with the kids, heading not too far from our Western branch office. A point that Mistress was happy to make.

“By tomorrow night we won’t be too far from you, M. It’s a shame you can’t just drop by.”

Of course, Slave ad not been dismissed, so after a brief hiatus, my tongue and lips were re-deployed, a point she mentioned to M.

“He’s still down there, M, working away, like a little suction cup.”

I think M must have gotten the hint, because now Mistress seemed to be more focused again, quietly assenting to whatever little scenario M had cooked up for her.

(Later she told me it involved some cock worship, followed by some nice fucking from behind, across M’s desk. It’s good to know the Branch Office gets put to good alternative use, since we’ve not seen many column inches from there in a while.)

And I refocused my efforts, inspired by Mistress’s sultry murmurs of consent to her own debauchery at the hand of her personal trainer.

Once she had cycled through yet another explosive cum, her foot gently pushed me away. She had enough, at least for now.

I took my place back in bed next to her as they chatted on. While they may have trouble squeezing in a formal training session while we are off on our own ski vacation with the teens, it is good to know that the WC is back at his desk, doing whatever it is that he does, but keeping Mistress entertained in the process.

Slave "Multi-Tasks"

It was certainly nice to have some quality material yesterday from Donna to tide us over here at UCTMW as I scrambled to cover for  the WC in the realm of keeping Mistress satisfied, while recovering from a cold and going about my normal duties.  Thank you, Donna!

It’s also interesting to see the different types of commentary that develops when Donna posts. A good deal more of the supportive sub sisterhood chatter, which is certainly endearing. I called her last night, on the way to a speaking engagement at for a local political group, and mentioned all of her supportive comments.

“You know Donna, the WC got some different types of responses when he posted that tutorial about taking a virginal ass (there is a link on the side of the page now …. It seemed more in the nature of folks raising there hands and sliding down their panties.”

Donna’s posting got some of you talking about toys, which reminded me to share this article from Salon("Busted"), describing the problems that can arise when one’s toys are misplaced.   Some cautionary, and funny tales, for all of you.

Our next bit of reportage from Donna will be about the toy she received in the mail recently from EdenFantasies.com, as part of our new “shameless pandering for free sex toys” promotion. Here is her little teaser:

“Also, the first toy for review arrived in today's mail. It was addressed to Molly (no last name) at this address. If I play my cards right we might be able to start working on evaluating the G-Spot Massager later this evening. The box also included a tote bag that has the words: "Eden Fantasy’s Sexy & Smart" in three inch hot pink and shocking green letters. I can't wait to take that one to the Bi-Lo to tote my groceries in!”

I’m sure that bag will be an interesting ice breaker in the check-out line.

Well, enough with toys….I due owe you all a brief update on my struggles to please Mistress here while the WC was on his extended holiday.  With such short notice it was impossible to recruit and screen a suitable temp personal trainer, so I just amped up my own personal devotions, even though I probably qualified for a sick leave of my own.

First, so far this week Mistress has stopped by my office for worship on three separate occasion. The efficiency of these visits has been enhanced by the end of tights season, so all it takes is sliding down her black panties, and I can be on my knees and on task.

Tuesday morning, she had an early meeting downtown, so was already being pleasured by 10 am. Such a fitting alternative to the traditional morning coffee break.

But that only kept Mistress’s needs in check for a few hours. By around three that afternoon I was receiving emails reflecting her healthy appetites:

“When do I get my cock!”

“Hopefully tonight, Mistress….”

By Tuesday evening my fever had subsided enough that I was prepared to offer up that sad cock to the task of pleasing her, but only after savoring her delicious, salty juices after another session at spinning class with our daughter.  She seemed pleased as I brought her over the edge, but saw it only as an appetizer.

“ Are you going to make love to me now, Slave…. It’s been since Sunday morning.”

I knew the quality of my performance could be in doubt, so suggested a little extra assistance.

“You may want to have me put in my device, Mistress.”

I know, that’s a little uppity of me, but I felt it could be helpful in getting me to critical mass. (Sorry, all these nuclear puns are a bit too top of mind these days).

And sure enough, with a little invasive action from behind, and the help fo Mistress’s loving lips and tongue, Slave was finally able to perform his marital duties. Mistress seemed pleased, though I was a sodden mess afterwards.

It seemed as though my efforts in bed on Tuesday night finally did break my fever. So by Wednesday morning, my “little cock that could” was quite up to the task of serving  Mistress’s needs before we headed to work.

Mistress joined me for lunch yesterday, and of course I made sure to feast on her a bit before we headed off for some nicoisse salads at a local café in downtown River City. I learned then that the WC may soon be back in action.

“I talked to him a bit this morning, Slave…. Sounds like he’s headed home this evening. He says he’s missed all the blog action.  And my sexy voice.”

I am sure he has…. And I suspect Mistress has missed him. Let’s up he is tan, ready and rested and able to pick up his share of the “burden”.

” here at UCTMW.

Our Senior Correspondent Teases Her Doctor.

(When she heard the Executive Editor was struggling to pick up the slack with our Western Correspondent MIA on the ski slopes, Donna, our Senior Correspondent stepped in with this delightful and illustrated post.)


Today I had an appointment with my psychiatrist who is helping me puzzle through some work-related issues from a few years back. I firmly believe that we of the kinky persuasion need to search out medical people we can trust with the truth, and it took several interviews with counselors and psychologists to find this fabulous doc. In the interview process I asked him point-blank about his feelings on BDSM. He said he didn’t have a problem with it, that he honestly didn’t know much about it but that he was willing to learn. He then added that whether I decided we would be working together or not, he would appreciate suggestions for reading materials. Winner!!! And Doc has been true to his word. He read the books I gave him, asked insightful questions and, because he realizes how much this lifestyle is part and parcel of my interpretation of the world, hardly a session goes by that we don’t include some talk of sexual matters. We have developed an easy, almost teasing manner that works for me.

At my visit today, Doc asked whether I had followed through on some relaxation suggestions he had made at our last visit. When I replied that I had tried some but not all, he gave me a disappointed look. So, being the smart ass that I am, I asked him whether he had followed through on the suggestion I made for him at our last meeting. He looked sheepish for a moment and then laughed and said, ”Oh, I remember, you said I should get my wife a hibachi for our anniversary.” “No.” I responded, “what I said was to get your wife an Hitachi wand. The goal is to heat things up, not set your house on fire.” He then commented that they don’t use toys. Blink-blink! WHAT?? None???

I suggested that he was pulling my leg, that surely after 25 years of marriage he and his wife must have a toy box under their bed with some sexy toys. He shook his head, said there are only dust bunnies under their bed and reminded me that he is vanilla. I was puzzled, insisting that vanillas can have toys, too. He then told me I should try harder to look a bit less saddened by the idea that he is toy-less, and said that maybe I just don’t have a clear understanding for how vanilla, vanilla really is.

So, here we have a physician with a specialty in psychiatry who has never played with a pocket rocket, a dildo, or a vibrator of any kind. I could understand that he doesn’t own a flogger, paddle or nipple clamps. And maybe a St. Andrew’s cross or sex swing might be a bit over the top, but to not even have a good dildo? I really was taken aback.

We had a lovely discussion on what Bill and I keep in our toy-boxes and what I would think a vanilla man might want to keep in his toy-box, but none of the ideas seemed to appeal to him at all.
Of course the bottom line is that as long as he and his wife are happy, that is all that matters. But, quite honestly, I was both embarrassed and enlightened to learn that I have preconceived notions about the vanillas of the world that may be just as incorrect as the ideas that some vanillas have about those of us who are kinky folks.

As I left the office, Doc smiled as he patted my shoulder and said,”Try not to feel too sad for me, Donna.” To which I replied, “I’m not sad, I’m thinking about bringing you a little starter box to my next appointment and I’m thinking about what I want to put in it.”
I swear he paled just a bit.