Bungled

Well, friends, those of you who were following the NFL play-off games yesterday now know why Slave was looking ahead. I wanted to blog about the possible stakes if our local pussycats made it to the 2nd round against All Mine's team before my chance dissipated.  As a long suffering student of local football lore, I had a feeling that yesterday morning would be my last chance to  toss out the prospects of our provocative bet, and get everyone's anticipatory juices flowing.  And sure enough, all is now moot: our team played a feisty game through 28 minutes of the first half, but then gave up a costly interception for a TD, that turned out to be the winning points of the game.

So the folks at ALL Mine don't have to worry about the delicate task of deciding which of our offers to accept, or come up with terms even more salacious as an alternative.

Mistress does not follow football with much interest. But as we sat with some friends watching the 2nd half yesterday, she seemed unusually curious about the outcome. Whatever smutty fantasies she was having about a possible close encounter with Jay's TC were receding before her, sort of like the American Dream at the end of the "Great Gatsby".  Ah, well, Mistress..... there's always next year.

And the bad news for Suzanne, Jay and Tammy is that the Patriots may now have a far more formidable opponent to face next Saturday night.... Though I suppose there is a slight possibility that our Western Correspondent's favorite team, (AKA Jesus's Team) may face the lads from New England at some point in these playoffs. Maybe we can somehow involve him in a wager with Suzanne?  If so I suggest that Big Blackie play a prominent role.

In focusing on yesterday's potential Wager, I skipped over a rather bizarre incident here on Friday morning.  Mistress had an early morning, 7:30 am  breakfast meeting at a little restaurant just a few blocks away in our antiseptic little community.  She was typically costumed for work - black dress, those special black  tights, and black boots too. I  kissed her goodbye, with plans to pick her up in an hour for our commute to work.

But barely 5 minutes later, as I was frying some eggs for a little breakfast of my own, the phone rang:

"Slave.... you need to come down here now.... I've been detained by the Police..... for jaywalking...."

Arggh.    I knew I shouldn't have given Mistress that sudaphed to help cure some sniffles.It ahd clearly given her a little extra "edge".

Turning off the stove, I grabbed a jacket, and jumped in the car for the short drive to the "crime scene".  Sadly, when I arrived there was no yellow tape, but there were two police cars with blue lights flashing, slowing traffic as drivers rubbernecked to see what was up so early in our normally tranquil little town.

Mistress was in a rather heated discussion with a Sergeant who had been called to provide "back-up", apparently because Mistress had become a little pissy when she was told she had to  stand on the sidewalk, or she would be taken into custody, rather than step inside the adjoining restaurant for her breakfast meeting.

I think what annoyed Mistress the most was  that the rather large and bullyish officer who had stopped her had demanded to know "what her business was" in the neighborhood, when in fact she had grown up here. I mean, should you have to explain why you are stepping into a restaurant at breakfast time?

In any event, I urged Mistress to exercise her right to remain silent, and tried to engage the Sergeant in a little snappy patter, as the apprehending officer took about 15 minutes to confirm that Mistress was not a fugitive from justice or an illegal immigrant, before issuing her the jaywalking citation.  And after she was released, the crowd inside the restaurant gave her a round of applause for surviving this display of overwhelming force by our local Keystone Kops.

All of this was a little disturbing at the time. Plus my eggs were getting cold.

But afterwards we did have a bit of a chuckle. 

"Mistress, you came close to getting taken into custody.... and before they slipped you into the holding cell, they probably would have gotten a matron to do a full body cavity search....."

"You don't think they would have done that, do you, Slave?"

"Absolutely..... but at least it would have been convenient to do the search.... after all, you had your peek-a-boo tights on."

I think from now on Mistress will think about what she's wearing before she walks against a  "Don't Walk" signal.

The Wager

As those who follow our blog and All Mine know, a potential confrontation is brewing in the NFL Playoffs: our local pussycats will play the All Mine crew's favorite team, the New England Patsies, if (and it's a big if) our team can beat the Houston Texans this afternoon.

Of course, any NFL player has been brainwashed to say you must take "one game at a time". It's absolute heresy to be publicly acknowledging that there may be another  game on the horizon that could be a whole lot more interesting. But then again, this Irishman would never have cut it as an NFL player anyway..... and if we don't write this  blog today, well...... it could be years before we can discuss some comparable wager with our friendly competitors in sex blogland.

Last night, after Mistress rode my cock to several rather dramatic cums, we walked down to our local watering hole. On the way, I brought up the topic of the wager.

"We could go vanilla, Mistress.... wager them a week at our Mountain hideaway against a week at Suzanne's New England lake house."

"That would be nice, Slave.... but a little out of character, don't you think?"

"I suppose so....way too bland for a sex blog.... How about this....if our pussycats win, you get to ride the trophy cock?"

Mistress always seems to derive her best cums in the female superior position.... doing it with Jay's legendary Trophy cock would certainly make her toes curl.

"Ahhhh..... now you're talking, Slave.... but only if Suzanne is cool with it."

"Of course, it;s up to her to agree to the terms..... but what if the pussycats lose.... what would they get?"

We tossed this one around a bit. A bet that Jay would get to take Mistress in any way he saw fit would be a little too "tails Mistress win, heads she wins too", wouldn't it?  Plus what would Suzanne or Tammy get out of such a wager?

"How about this Mistress.... we go visit them and act as their Subs for the weekend.... Suzanne keeps alluding to her hankering  for a female sub.... and maybe Tammy could use a couple of days relief from the household chores...."

"Ahhh..... that sounds reasonable Slave.... as  long as you don't have to wear any diapers.... I'm really not into that....."

So there you go.... that's our proposal Suzanne, Jay and Tammy.... let's see who wins this afternoon's game, and then let us know what terms you would prefer.. I'm not too worried about spending a weekend washing Suzanne and Tammy's lingerie while Mistress takes on more intimate duties.... at least not yet.

Preview of Cumming Attractions

It's been too long since Mistress and Slave have spent time at their Mountain Hideaway. Work  and the Co-Ed's college schedule has kept us tethered to the UCTMW World HQ through the holidays. But next Thursday, barring some unforeseen disaster, we will be heading West for about 10 days for some skiing and R&R.

Who knows, we may even have company. The WC and his wife B have an open invitation to come down and visit. We promise to show them a "good time".

Last night, as we were having a long, slow and luscious session in the Executive Suite, Mistress asked what is a typical question here from the Publisher, "So what are you going to write about tomorrow, Slave?"

Typically, if I already have some ideas on the next day's edition, I am a little coy. But last night I asked her for some advice.

"Not sure, Mistrsess. Any ideas?"

"How about some pictures from our Mountain West HQ, to show folks what we might be up to?"

Slave never disregards Molly's advice on editorial policy. So here are a few shots of our Mountain activities from the UCTMW archives.

 No doubt there will be snow at this time of year where this photo was taken, but it gives you and idea about the lovely vistas we will be seeing as we ski our local mountain.

While it's bound to be a little colder at 6500 feet this time of year than it was when this photo was taken, my guess is that Mistress will find a warm afternoon on our patio to catch some sun.

But let's not fool ourselves, there will be some snow too!

The Therapist

Very early yesterday morning, when Mistress and Slave were engaged in a pre-dawn sexual marathon, we got talking....

For us, a little verbal speculation and story telling adds fuel to our considerable fires... and no one has ever been indicted for being a sexual arsonist, right?

Somehow, the evening before, we had discussed a therapist I had visited with in our pre-contract days, when we were trying to patch things together after Slave's "indiscretion". She was a wise, grandmotherly type, who did a good job of cutting through my BS in a non-judgmental way, holding up a mirror so I could see with clarity why I had "stepped in it", at the peril of my own well being and my most important relationships.

But when this conversation was revisited the next morning, as I grazed on Mistress's clean shaven folds, and she gripped my engorging cock, it was  re-imagined with Mistress in the role of a different sort of therapist.

(Have we mentioned here that Mistress has an MA in Psychology?  She's never used it as a therapist or counselor, but maybe some day....)

"I could see you playing that role, Mistress.... but with a twist..."

"How so, Slave....."

"Well.... maybe as a "last chance" option for wives  to bring their wandering husbands...."

By now I'm teasing a nipple, and Mistress's grip on my balls and cock is tightening.

"And how would that work?"

"Naturally, there would be waivers signed... to cover any potential claims arising from your unconventional, experimental approach...., both by the husband and the wife."

"Of course, Slave.... but go on."

It was around this time that Mistress instructed me to retrieve her Hitachi.

"Your approach would be a complete mental re-conditioning, Mistress....some hands-on retraining that would turn the miscreant husband  into someone who longs only to worship his mate, the way I worship you....."

At this point Mistress had become a little distracted by the powerful tool engaged at the juncture of those well conditioned thighs. But she was still trying to focus on the story.

"And how would I do that Slave?'

'Well it would have to be very interactice..... That first session would end with him between these thighs, discovering the convenience of your peek-a-boo tights."

"And after that?"

"A cock cage of course.... with two keys.... one for you, and one for the wife...., a very disciplined approach to when, where, how and with whom your patient could cum."

"What if the wife was not into this sort of thing....."

"I suspect you would have to train her some to, though some women would probably be more than happy to delegate the 'dirty work' to you....."

"You mean the ass fucking, Slave...."

"Exactly...."

Somewhere, at around this point in the story, there was an intermission, and Mistress thrashed and moaned her way through a rather intense cum, and demanded that I  fuck her.

And the story was set aside, as I eagerly followed her explicit instruction.  But I'm thinking we may need to resume this story line in a few moments, after I shut down the laptop.

But, 'Nilla, feel free to flesh this one out. (I guess there could be a gender reversal too.)