A Toast to the Emerald Isle and a Missing Apostrophe

As you might imagine, it’s no accident that the protagonists of this meandering adventure story have taken on the name of a famous Irish clan, and particularly one Mick Collins, courageous Irish freedom fighter of the 1917 uprising and thereafter. (Though the royalists no doubt thought of him as a terrorist back in his day).

Molly and Mick have been to that fair isle on several occasions, by ourselves and with girls in tow. It’s a lovely place to visit and reconnect to a shared past, though the weather can leave you a little sodden.

So yesterday, after we enjoyed our lusty morning “connection” here at the World Headquarters, we turned on the TV to the sight of our beloved (at least in this household) President, making his own homecoming, to that Island, connecting to the more remote but still meaningful roots connected to his Mother’s side of the family.

Of course, the glory of it all was that the Irish people, particularly in the small town that spruced itself up for his visit, were more than happy to overlook the complexion of our President’s skin, and accept the word of the genealogists who had uncovered the connection to a great grand grandfather. There was even a song about it, that came out during the 2008 campaign. Here's the  link to "There's No One as Irish as Barack O'Bama."

Apparently there has been no equivalent of the Donald, demanding to see the documentary proof, and wondering if it had been photo-shopped.

When Mistress and I returned home from work, we planned a bike ride, but first, of course, there was some worship. Actually the second of the day, since Mistress had joined me for lunch, and her clean shaven folds had been a lovely appetizer for me.

Mistress laid back on the bed, munching a juicy plum, while I did my own munching, taking her over the top once, then, after a little rest and conversation, me resting my head against those lovely thighs, I enjoyed a second helping. Her bucking hips and muffled sighs suggested she enjoyed my hearty appetite as well.

After the juices settled, we both reached into our respective dressers to dig out T-shirts for our ride. As it turned out, we had both focused on the theme of the day. Our grumbling Sullen teen #1 was drafted to take this photo to share with you:

I just wish I had been there in that tiny town, to tip a pint with our latest Irish-American President.

82 hours, 36 minutes.....

Yes, I know, I am a pampered house Slave.... but for me that may have been the longest wait from one cum to the next since the days back in the Dubya era when Slave was commuting back and forth from River City to Orlando.

 ( I am sure Tammy at All Mine and Sissy at Ms. Marie routinely have their needs deferred much longer than 82 hours and 36 minutes..., so my whining is probably a little pathetic. )

So by the time I got home with the sullen teen last night from our trip to DC .... around 8:30 pm post rapture eastern daylight savings time, Slave was more than a little anxious to bid teens good night and drop to my knees for some worship.

It was lovely to savor the taste and texture I had missed for so many days.

"Can you tell I went for a brisk walk, and baked in the sun a today, Slave?"

I think all that escaped my lips, so busy were they, was something like

"Ummmyummmmm."

Plans to do a little evening Switch Time were quickly shelved for some more conventional love making once my worship was completed.

And Mistress added to Slave's desperation when she instructed me to insert my "device", the little white aneros.

"I know you've been traveling Slave, so let's make sure my cock is extra hard for me."

"I don't think that will be a problem, Mistress."

And of course it wasn't. 

But Slave slept late this morning, so I am going to leave the rest to your imagination, in order to  make sure I get a second helping before it's off to work this Monday morning.

Mistress Plays By Her Own Rules

As I was getting dressed this morning for a day on the town here in DC with my sullen teen and her older sister, I checked in with Mistress.

She said she planned a bike ride, then some sunning with our other teen. But first she was going to treat herself to an orgasm. (Come to think of it, she didn't give me a quantity).

"Are you going to use the hitachi, Mistress?"

"Of course, Slave...."

Soone she was texting me taunting photos of the hitachi, as well as her "clean shaven folds".

But she made it clear that this indulgence was for her alone.

"You can wait until you get back tonight, Slave.... just a few more hours."

So I refrained, continuing to follow my "no touching" protocol. Though I did see this photo that reminded me what Mistress was up to back in the comfort of our bed.

AS you can imagine, the sullen teen thought ti was really embarassaing that I stopped to take this picture

Missing Mistress

Slave is still here in DC today. So the news on the sex at UCTMW is pretty bleak. No touching has been the rules, though Mistress was kind enough to spare me the cage.

Ans last night, when it became clear that neither one of us had been "called" to some other loftier state, Mistress texted a warning / promise:

"You are past due for that ass fucking Slave...."


I couldn't agree more. and our readers are due some choice tid-bits as well.

Mistress did get a bit of a reprieve though. A three am "booty call" from the WC, apparently made from his basement very early Saturday morning.

There are few things that would make Mistress happy about a call in the middle of the night. But I suspect hearing M telling her to deploy her power tool and make it dance on her cunt at his command was one of them.

Yesterday, when we had a chance for some brief private conversation, I got a few questions in:

"So did M get off too, Mistress?"

"He seemed to Slave.... he said he was calling from the basement so as not to disturb his family."

Apparently M's infamous brother, the one with the ass seeking fingers is in town visiting, leaving M pretty busy with golf this weekend. I do worry about those cocktail waitresses at the 19th hole. They may have a surprise in store.

Fortunately, Slave's brief adventure in chastity will end this evening. I'm looking forward to an early bedtime with Mistress. I miss her soft skin, delicious taste and fragrant folds.

And I'm wondering if she remembers it will still be  switch day when I get home?