Super Switch Sunday

It's Sunday night here in River City. The Giants and Eli Manning now officially own the Patriots and Tom Brady when it comes to Super Bowl showdowns, and Slave has a very early drive to the airport in the AM to make sure my daughter gets back to work tomorrow morning.

So I'm doing a late night abbreviated blog to fill you in on today's developments.

Mistress craftily thought that her switch day obligations were dodged again, with the pretext being a trip to the gym for that early Sunday AM spinning class. So while we fit in some hot wake -up sex, there "wasn't time" for a more ritualized exercise in the executive suite.

But she underestimated her sometimes too docile Slave.

Once the grocery shopping for this evening's Super Bowl gathering was done, and the Chili was simmering on the stove, I directed her upstairs. The lame excuse about having to do some work related task fell on unsympathetic ears.

Soon Mistress found herself bound to our bed, ass elevated, and grudgingly accepting a firm bare bottom spanking. It didn't take long for her firm and seductive tush to take a nice red glow. And I might add that accompanying that glow was the intoxicating aroma of her wanton arousal.

My fingers came away damp and pungent from those clean shaven folds in the intervals between the firm slaps to her bottom, confirming my suspicion that the little slut was secretly longing for the switch day exercise that she had dodged the last two Sundays.

Once I had taken a few photos to share of her reddened bottom, I felt it was time for her reward. I pulled her favorite power tool from under the bed, and slid it between her legs from behind.

It's always a joy to make her squirm and shudder and beg for the privilege to come.

And of course afterwords, once the shuddering and moaning had run their course, I made sure to take my pleasure from her as well. And not too soon, I might add.  Some guests just don't no that its better to come late rather than early!

Resting Up Before the Super Bowl.

It was one of those days that's a little too rare at the UCTMW World HQ - a cold rain had us huddling inside, and spending most of our afternoon and a good chunk of our morning in bed.

There was morning sex. A trip to the gym. A few brief errands to run. then back here in bed for the balance of the afternoon.

Slave watched his alma mater put a big hurt on Suzanne's alma mater in college basketball. I guess I missed the opportunity for a favorable bet there! It was one of those rare ocassions when the slow, ugly white guys got the upper hand on the hard court. I guess we will just chalk it up to home field advantage.

Meanwhile, Mistress was lounging in bed next to me, reading her kindle. But I think she was happy when the brainiacs at CBS decided the game I was watching was no longer competitive just when my team was turning it into a laugher, and switched to some tedious SEC game. I turned off the TV, and cuddled next to her, and we drifted off for a luxurious mid-afternoon snooze.

When we woke about an hour later, both of us were rested, ready and frisky. Mistress briefly considered directing me to haul out her strap on paraphernalia, but decided instead on some "comfort sex", commenced with Slave plying her clean shaven folds for a few cums with my lips and tongues, and continuing on through a nice sound fucking.

Ahhhh.... sometimes the simple approach is just what the doctor ordered.

At some point, as the afternoon transitioned to early evening I realized that I needed to stop by the local hardware store to pick up some replacement light bulbs.

Mistress looked at me a little funny. As if my explanation was somehow suspect.

"What is it about guys and hardware stores, Slave?"

"It's actually a dirty little secret, Mistress.... local hardware stores are typically fronts for places where all sorts of hot and kinky sex with random strangers occurs behind the shelves where they display the pruning sheers, pet collars  and gromets."

"Oh really..... just let me get dressed. I'll come along."

Later, after the light bulbs were replaced, we rallied. It was cold and damp and inertia suggested the best strategy might be to watch another movie on cable from our bed. But we'd wanted to see the movie Shame (see the trailer here). Actually, the trailer makes the movie seems a little more "sexy" than it turned out. The main character has a troubling   addiction to on line porn and masturbation. It's an interesting exercise, particularly for those of us engaged on sex blog land. If you've seen it, let us now what you think. 

It did make me ponder what happens at the UCTMW Mountain Zone branch office on a typical  "workday".

Today we hope to do a little more lazing about, until some family members arrive for the great American February  ritual: gathering to watch the Super Bowl. It's not quite the same here in River City than for our friends on the East Coast this year. Our team has not been there since the days of Joe Montana and Bill Walsh (we were their foils not once but twice). But we do gather, as good Americans must, to Ohh Ahhh, and Guffaaw over the commercials and half time spectacle, and Gingrichy grandiosity of it all. I'll be rooting for the Giants, the team of my youth and my father.

But all of us will be hoping for one thing I am sure: a Madonna costume emergency.

Have a festive and sexy Super Sunday, all!

Friday Night Lite

It had been a busy week in River City for both Mistress and Slave when Molly called me at about 3 pm Friday afternoon. There had been talk about a "happy hour" at a new bar downtown with some of her colleagues. But now she had other plans, concocted on her drive back from a lunch meeting down river, not far from Aisha-land.

"It's a beautiful day down here Slave... why don't we just go home a little early and go for a bike ride."

I couldn't argue with her plan. Why not take advantage of the fruits of global warming?  How many early February days in the 60's are there?

Mistress texted me when she pulled up outside my building and I scrambled down to meet her. She was suitably dressed for her "power lunch", all in black naturally, which gave me a lovely view of those shapely legs stretched onto the dash as I drove her homeward. She even took a photo at my suggestion.

We got home with plenty of sunshine left in the evening, switched to our riding cloths. Soon we were doing that hill climb that separates the field slaves from the pampered house slaves. But since it was my third day in a row, I did a pretty good job of keeping up with my very fit Mistress.

Once home. we had a glorious unscheduled night in front of us. And you can imagine where it started.

After I showered, I joined Mistress between the sheets, where I made sure to do a workmanlike job of pleasuring those clean shaven folds. And after a couple of cums, she allowed her Slave to mount her and take my own pleasure.

Spent, we drifted off for a while, at least until the two cats climbed on board to see what they were missing. By them, we were both getting a little hungry. We had talked about walking down to a neighborhood joint for some beverages and snacks,  but even that sounded like too much effort.

So instead Slave did an inventory of our shrinking larder, and whipped up some gnocchi with pesto, mushrooms and eggplant. Yummy if I do say so myself. Meantime, Mistress selected a movie for us to watch - an Indie called "Newlyweds" that had a Manhattan setting and a Woody Allen atmosphere.

Hardly deep, but charming. And a nice way to spend the evening, cuddled together on the couch, tummy's filled, a bottle of wine to polish off.

Much better than "Happy Hour".

'What will we do when the girls are back for the summer, Slave...."

"I don't even want to think about it."

You Look Lovely Today, Mrs. Cleaver.

Here in River City the weather has been .... unusual. For the second day in a row I was able to go on an after work bike ride in temperatures in the mid-50's. If the Groundhog predicts 6 more weeks of this, then bring it on.

And after last night's ride, Mistress stretched out on our bed, spread her legs, and let me worship through the cunning aperture in her peek-a-boo tights (yes, she had left them on for the ride-- they are all purpose!)

But what about the odd title of the blog, Mick....

Well I was reading Aisha's post from yesterday, and she mentioned something about other bloggers spending words this week on the subject of whether submissive women were somehow longing for the simpler days of the 50's and 60's, when they were not "burdened" with choices like having a career or when to reproduce.

Of course, Aisha's view is that the sort of "submission" she and others relish is voluntary, not because there are no other options.

But as you might expect, Mick had a more puckish perspective.... I got thinking about whether those iconic "house wives" of the 50's and 60's were actually doing something kinkier than making sure the fish sticks were warm and crispy when hubby and the kids gathered around her kitchen table for Friday night dinner.

Quite frankly, as I contemplated it, my mind drifted in a different direction.

As an example, it's hard to imagine Ward Cleaver forcing June to her knees to suck that very white cock.  But I could imagine June grabbing Wally's friend Eddie Haskell by the scruff of his neck, making him lick the toes of her sensible shoes, then allowing him to let his tongue slide up the inside of her thigh, where those 50's stocking tops led to something more tasty than double stuffed baked potatoes.

Come to think of it, maybe that explains why Eddie was such a suck up.He had hands on practice.

Then there are Ozzie and Harriet Nelson. Could Harriet have kept Ricky and David suck good little boys without wielding a mean paddle. And if so, it's hard to imagine that Ozzie didn't get some of that action too. Otherwise why did he always arrive home exactly at 5:35 pm?

And what about that dork Darrin, on "Bewitched"? Hardly a Dom. Isn't it more likely that Samantha cast some type of spell to make Darrin an obedient (if lumpy) sex slave than that he tied her to the door frame and reddened that insouciant ass?

Finally, what about that babe with origins in the 1950's with the mind controlling lasso, and the bullet proof bracelets? She was the object of more than a few adolescent fantasies in all those suburban neighborhoods.  It's hard to imagine her being a pushover in the bedroom, isn't it?