Finishing off our Week, and Input from our Senior Correspondent

Well, Blogger is finally back up.... so here is the dispatch I prepared for you this morning. Hope none have you have resorted to radically alternative forms of amusement in our absence -- you know, like going for a walk or reading a book. Hate to see you adopting bad habits on our account.

Wow. We’ve made it to the fifth day of a full work week together here in River City. It seems like a rare one, with Mistress traveling, other trips we’ve taken, or holidays that intrude.

And this one has been nice because, at least until today, we’ve been able to drive to work together. Mistress has even stopped by for three days in a row for a little worship from her Slave.

Yesterday morning we had some very hot wake up sex here at the World HQ, and Mistress was even over her cough, so there was no dilemma about easing back or pushing on. (We know what the WC’s answer would have been). Later I dropped Mistress off at work, and headed onto my office, figuring I would not see her until the end of the day.

But then, just before lunch time, I got a call from her.

She was rather blunt.

“Good… you’re there. I’ve had an annoying meeting and I’m coming over…..”

I was going to say something reassuring but she was already off the phone, clearly in a bit of a huff. But I was glad she felt she could stop by for some talk or other form of therapy.

When she waltzed into my office, she already seemed to have calmed some. We talked about where we might go to have lunch.

“But first, some worship, Mistress….”

I went through my usual routine, pulling the door closed, and the chair up against it. The blanket was spread. Our regular readers know the drill, as illustrated in yesterday’s posting. It seemed that by the time I was done, and Mistress was quaking through her little mid-day treat, her juices coating my lips and cheeks, that Mistress had already begun to calm down a bit… putting a dispute with a colleague in perspective.

At lunch at a local dive, we talked through her concerns, and I hope my perspective helped. We find that the combination of physical and talk therapy usually works for both of us….

On the way home I talked to Donna. She is anticipating a trip to Florida next week, and said she planned to author something before then. As a good executive editor, always looking for someone else to do the heavy lifting, I was thrilled to find what follows in my in-box this morning. So, enjoy as much as I did.

Did you know that according to one survey, there are more doctors and nurses involved in BDSM than any other career group? If you’ve ever had a colonoscopy, this may not come as a complete surprise to you.

Between my career and my personal life, I have spent a great deal of time associating with medical people. For the most part, I have been extremely fortunate to know fabulous doctors and nurses, but there have been a few that were not so great.

Many years ago when we lived in another state, I had a wonderful gynecologist. At one memorable visit, Dr. Wonderful’s nurse helped me transfer onto the exam table, pushed my wheelchair out of the way and then handed me the two paper napkins so generously provided to cover (?) my body, and said the doctor would be right in. As an aside, I have never understood whether correct procedure is one napkin for each breast and leave the lower latitudes uncovered, or place one napkin not quite covering either nipple (since my breasts tend to fall to the side when I am flat on my back) and then place the other napkin in position to cover the center of my lap.

Anyway, after some length of time the nurse returned with a sad look on her face to say that Dr. Wonderful had been called away on an emergency and her partner, Dr. Piss-ant would be taking over my exam. Dr. Piss-ant was gloomy and dismal, I never saw him laugh and I avoided him like the plague, but I was already there and the napkins were somewhat in place, so I agreed.

Right then Dr. Piss-ant burst into the room in a huff and bother, and with one glance my direction became angry that I wasn’t already in the stirrups. The nurse attempted to explain the situation, but he snapped at her to, “Just do it!”, so while he gloved up, the nurse got me in place and held my knees in position as she always did for me. The doctor turned around and yelled at her to get out of his way. She looked at me and I shrugged, smiled and nodded. So, just as the doctor was leaning forward a bit to reach back with his foot to bring the stool into position for sitting, she let go and stepped back. Well, my knees slammed together, smacking and trapping his head. I had to speak, since the nurse was trying so very hard not to laugh out loud, and I sweetly shared with him that the nurse always has to hold my legs in position.

Dr. Piss-ant ordered the nurse to come over and hold my legs and then completed the exam in record time. News spreads fast in small offices, and there were many smiles and a couple of thumbs ups from the staff as I left the office that day.

I wanted to share that event because it always makes me smile, and I have something else today to share with you and smile about. Last week I had a call from our son, the one in medical school (I love to say that) and he has arranged for me to spend some time with doctors from China who will be in the US later this month. I will fly to their location on the 21st, and will have the great opportunity to see how they might be able to assist me with some medical issues.

I can’t adequately express how proud I am of our son, that while having received his medical training in the United States he has remained open minded enough to accept that there is much to learn from other medical traditions. I am totally jazzed. I will have my trusty laptop and will probably have more time for blogging than I do now because Bill won’t be able to go with me. That part is a real downer, but that’s just the way it has to be.

And that’s why Bill has ramped up our sex program. It’s beginning to feel like the Sex Olympics around here. He has an ever growing list taped to the refrigerator with ideas about positions, activities and locations that he wants to complete before the 21st. Being his (mostly) cooperative and extremely horny sub, I have added a few little suggestions of my own. Should I be a bit slow in responding to emails this coming week, I am still at home - just extremely busy. Use your imagination and you’ll know what I mean!

Donna, could it be that Bill wants to get all those “items” off the agenda by May 21 because some folks are claiming that the world will come to an end that day? That does sound like the sort of “worst case” contingency planning we would expect from our Cirector of Security – International.

HNT/ Get the CTO on the phone....

I woke up this morning for the early shift here at the UCTMW World HQ to discover that our link to the outer world was down.

The internet and cable were still working. Squirrels had not nested in that “ big system of tubes” as the WWW was once characterized by a certain GOP Senator.

But when I tried to log into the Google Blogger system, first to catch up with the rest of our colleagues, and then to compose a little post for this morning, I got funky error messages instead. It seems that the system has expired, at least temporarily. It was not just UCTMW. I couldn’t log onto other bloggers either.

Maybe the guys at google had indigestion from eating the rest of the technology sector and decided to sleep in? Or are they freaking out over the whole Microsoft / Skype thing, and forgot to pay their electric bill?

I sent a “don’t panic” message to our international staff. I am a little concerned that the WC may not know what to do with his special occasion cock if there is no refreshed cornucopia of smut to review over his coffee and tequila this morning, along with a fresh HNT photo of Molly to inspire him this morning.

AS I noted in my “good morning staff” email to them, sent in lieu of a posting, if we had a competent Chief Technology Officer, we would simply power up our back up plan and switch to an alternative system.

That lame-o is gonna get fired this morning after I finish my coffee.

Oops. I forgot.

CTO is one of the hats I wear here at the World HQ. I guess I’ve been spending too much time in the Mail Room and tending to the CEO’s needs to focus on my emergency back-up systems planning.

So if blogger does come on today, I will post this ex post facto.

Now, then, what was I planning to say?

Oh yeah…..

Our photo today features Mistress after a little worship session in my office before we took off for a late lunch. It’s so nice to have her back and available again! And she makes a yummy appetizer. Don’t you think that color suits her lovely flesh tones? (She thinks she’s a little pale, but I like her this way, not overly bronzed).

At lunch she recounted a conversation she had with the WC about our morning sexcapade. It seems they debrief one another about the goings on in their respective beds, a sort of “after action report”. I guess a personal trainer needs to have his finger on the pulse of his subject at all times for an effective training regimen. Does that make sense?

Anyway, Mistress came back from the Czech republic with a bit of a cough and a hoarse voice. It seems she had an allergic reaction to some weeds the Czechs have been cultivating to turn into bio-fuel . (What, they haven’t heard our motto, “Drill, baby, Drill!”)

Her cough comes and goes. But, as I was enjoying my morning privilege of fucking her like crazy yesterday, Mistress began to cough. I felt sorry for her, and offered to ease up, but she encouraged me to continue, apologizing prolifically about the interruption. And of course, the considerate and submissive fellow that I am, I felt a little bad about continuing despite her discomfort.

(Though with her permission, I certainly did… I am not THAT obsequious.)

But the WC had a different take on it.

“He said he loves it when a woman coughs during sex…..”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, he says when a woman coughs her cunt clamps down on his cock Slave…. gives it an extra squeeze that’s very …. stimulating.”

“That’s sort of true, Mistress. It’s almost like your cunt is trying to push me out, but it squeezes too.”

But it does show how her two fellows respond differently to this peculiar malady. Slave feels kind of bad fucking Mistress when she is coughing. I offer to cut her some slack, and come back when she’s feeling better.

On the other hand, the WC sees the perks in it for the special occasion cock.

(By the way Suzanne, Molly enjoyed your reference to Jay’s cock as your “Trophy Cock”, or TC. But if we started referring to the WC’s cock as SOC, then folks might take up the mantra, “put a SOC in it.”)

Before finishing a blog that may never see the light of the internet, I wanted to give a plug to a new blogger I discovered yesterday, after she left a comment on our posting. Her nom de blog is Ellie, and her blog, “Writing With Ellie”, as the type of style, sass and compelling story telling that I know some of our readers will appreciate. (It seems that ‘Nilla had already discovered Ellie, but if you haven’t then check her out).

I’m still not sure of Ellie’s genre … is it real … or is it a fictional series with ongoing characters? Guess I need to read more, or maybe she will smack me across the cyber forehead and explain it to this thick headed Irishman.

But, regardless, her posting entitled “Burka” is fabulous writing.

Hope we can reconnect with all of you before the suns sets today on the UCTMW Media Empire….

(Obviously.... the systems are now go here in blogger land. But Slave was too anxious to go up and "greet" Mistress to re-write this damn blog).

The Ripple Effect

Molly and Mick are getting back into some ordinary rhythms this week. The luxury of wake up sex, after Mistress reads the blog, and driving to work together, as Mistress distracts me with those shapely bare legs of hers….

 And then there was Mistress stopping by my office for some post-lunch worship.

She was off to a meeting with a new potential client, but there was time for me to pull the chair up against the door, cover it with that nice absorbent blanket with my firm logo on it (not sure that’s what our marketing committee had in mind but it’s damn useful), and then fall to my knees and put my advanced oral skills to work.

Mistress cooed a bit as I dug into those lovely musky folds, which were on display in yesterday’s post, though shielded by a succulent slice of marzipan.  And after she’d had her fill (of my tongue and lips, she’s already squandered her marzipan stash), I asked whether we should take a photo to tease our Western Correspondent a bit.

“Good idea Slave. Let’s show him what he’s missing.”

I retrieved her I-phone and, back on my knees, took a shot of her with legs spread, a lascivious smile on her face.  She texted it off to M.

Then Mistress was off to her meeting.

We hooked up again around 5:30 pm in my building lobby, to head home for a bike ride and then dinner.

“How was your meeting, Mistress?”

“Good Slave…. but this guy, he kept moving closer to me…. Then wanted to go for drinks afterwards… I told him I had to go though….”

“Hmmm….. he likes you, Mistress….”

“It would seem that way…. And wants to give me some work too.”

“That’s always good….”

We were in the car now, driving up the highway in stop and go traffic. Mistress was fiddling with her I-phone.

“It’s M… he was texting me in my meeting, but I couldn’t get back….. Now he wants me to give him a call….”

“Go ahead, Mistress.”

Not that she needed my permission. 

Soon they were chatting away, the subject turning to the nature of those text messages he had sent her.

“So you liked that picture, huh…. And got off on it.”

Turned out that despite some “epic” sex that morning with his wife B, M had taken matters into his own hands, inspired by the slutty photo Mistress had sent him from my office.

It’s nice to think that one wanton act here in River City can inspire another out West at our branch office of UCTMW.

And who knows how many others of our lurkers also use these words or images as “inspiration”.. I did note that last Thursday, when I posted a selection of Mistress “favorite parts” photos (the link is on the right still), we had an unusually large number of hits. 999 separate visitors and more than 1700 page views.

Was it the title that led to all those clicks?

Who knows.

But I suspect Mistress is flattered by the thought that some of our readers take pleasure in her body, if only remotely.

Of course, the WC and I have  somewhat different responses when men  take a personal interest in Mistress, like the prospective client who wanted to take Mistress out for drinks last night.

“I actually think he’s younger than me, Slave….when I googled him this big mansion he lives in popped up.”

I have that strange cuckold thing going, which gives me a little zing at the thought of him coming onto my hot wife.

WC gets a little possessive though, cross examining Mistress on this fellow’s qualities and whether she is interested.

Either way, the competition does seem to get Mistress’s juices flowing.

And by the time we got home, whether inspired by M’s “self-help”, the guy who was coming onto her, or the response of her Slave and “Master” to his interest, Mistress was willing to defer our bike ride just long enough for Slave to worship her all over again.

Yum.

Addictions

Mistress has a perverse addiction.

No, it’s not my work-a-day cock.

Or even the WC’s special occasion cock, which she has seen in one dimensional images but has yet to experience in "Sense-Around".

No her addiction is to a strange mixture of sugar and ground almonds that she hunts down whenever she has a chance to prowl the European continent.

The pretext for her trip to Poland and the Czech Republic was to see and experience the landscape where evil manifested itself in unimaginable ways in the mid part of the last century. And she certainly did that, as the photos and stories she brought home show.

But I sometimes wonder if the whole adventure was really just to indulge her addiction to Marzipan.

The folks at Wikipedia have a useful definition for those of you who have not fallen into this strange and compulsive trap, which, at least for me, tastes no more appealing than flavored candle wax.



"Marzipan is a confection consisting primarily of sugar and almond meal. Some marzipan is flavored with rosewater. Persipan is a similar, yet less expensive product, in which the almonds are replaced by apricot or peach kernels. In Goa (formerly Portuguese India) almonds are replaced by cashews. Many confectionery products sold as marzipan are made from less expensive materials, such as soy paste and almond essence.[1]p. 594 German marzipan is made by grinding whole almonds with sugar and partially drying the paste, and French marzipan is made by combining ground almonds with sugar syrup.[2]p. 484 Spanish marzipan is made without bitter almonds.'

On several trips to Europe back in the 1990’s, to charming ski villages in the Dolomites, to Andalusia, or to the hill towns of Tuscany, it seemed a good bit of our evening passagiata was devoted to feeding Mistress’s addiction, by hunting down perveyors of her own personal crack, whether  in charming confectionaries, or  tacky convenience stores which could have been fronts for Al Queda for all we knew.

So it came as no surprise to me that, as Mistress disgorged the contents of her rolling duffel on Saturday evening, it seemed that 40% of its contents was Marzipan in various forms and shapes – some molded into cuddly little animals in fruity colors, others consisting of multicolored slices from what must have been a marzipan log. (Actually I surprised she didn’t find a way to ship a whole log of this stuff home.)
Mistress grudgingly gave a couple of these little morsels to the sullen teens, who seem to share this strange addiction. But she has hoarded the rest for herself.

After arriving home last night from work, Mistress still feeling a bit of the time shift after a long day of work re-entry, I offered to worship, a post-work ritual I had sorely missed while she was away.

“Of course, Slave….”
Soon she had shed her work cloths, and lay across the bed, completely naked legs spread. But before I fell to my knees she had one more request.

“Hand me that slice of Marzipan, Slave….”, indicating where it sat across the room on her desk.

“Of course, Mistress…”

She lay back, content, nibbling at its edges as I began to nibble on her stubble free, folds, gorging on her own addicting juices.

“Ahhh…. this is heaven, Slave….”

Seeing the humour in the moment I paused briefly to take the photo below, just to exemplify our twin addictions.

While Mistress may worship at the altar of that strange almond / sugar concoction, I am more than content to worship at her altar.

Cue the celestial choir.