The Pheremone Effect?

Last night it was just Mistress and Slave at home here at the UCTMW World HQ.  I had an after work meeting, and Mistress got home before me and took a "double loop" bike ride on our local hills.  As I stepped out of my work costume, Mistress we stripping away her exercise shorts and seemed a little impatient with me.

"Have you forgotten something, Slave?"

Oops. I had been a little slow on the uptick when it came to offering my services.

"Sorry, Mistress....."

I tossed a pillow on the floor next to our bed, to cushion my bony knees, and went to work on those clean shaven folds, which were especially ripe after her strenuous ride in this 80 degree, end of winter weather here in "tropical" River City.  But of course, for me the taste was absolutely fabulous.  And Mistress was soon shuddering through a couple of post exercise cums.

Mistress commitment to exercise brought to mind an article that somehow popped onto my screen yesterday, and that I shared via emails with Suzanne, over at All Mine, and Donna.  It raises the subject of women who have orgasms while exercising. "Core-gasms" is what some folks call them.  I know the WC will find this inspirational the next time he goes to the gym, and ponders all those women on the stationary bikes, so here is a link, Miguel. Maybe this will get your mind off the sad demotion of Jesus's favorite QB on the Donkeys' depth chart.

Afterwords, as Mistress had a late snack and we prepared to catch up on an episode of "Californication", we shared details of our day.

"I was standing in the driveway, on the phone with someone from work, and that doctor down the street (the one I threatened to  call to help with condom removal on Sunday) actually pulled into the drive behind me to talk ..... he was very flattering in his comments on my appearance, Slave...."

"Who can blame him.... you are muy caliente, Mistress...."

Later, on the phone with  J, Mistress shared this little story with her new lover, and they speculated about whether all this sex has pumped up both of their pheromone output in a way that has other folks taking notice.... sort of like the proverbial cat in heat.

"J says he's noticed the same thing.... women at the gym suddenly coming up to talk to him, or ask him for golf lessons....."

"No doubt they'd like the feel of his hands on their hips, Mistress, guiding them into the proper position .... or the feel of his "club" pressed between the cheeks of their asses...."

"Hmmmm.... do you think that's how he teaches golf, Slave....."

I searched for  a little intelligence  on the subject this morning, and think I found a picture of J using his unique style of golf instruction with one of those curious ladies.

I'm thinking those ladies clubs gathering cob webs in the basement may see the light of day again after all.

Retrieval and Release

Both Mistress and Slave were a little tired yesterday.

I had been out late with the  Irishmen, celebrating our common cultural heritage and affinity for Jameson. Mistress had her marathon sexcapade sleepover with J.

At around 10:30 am, I got a call from her with notice that she would be home by 11:30. They were just "finishing up", and reviving themselves with some coffee ice cream. I suppose the sugar / caffeine combo could not hurt.  I was finishing up collecting our tax data (always a hoot), which at least is a great remedy when you need to avoid thinking about sex due to a hard steel cock cage trapping your cock and balls.

But, as promised Mistress came home withing the hour.  I, of course, had one priority: that little key setting me free. But first things first.

"Slave..... we think there's another condom lost.... would you do the honors?"

I fell to my knees. She leaned back on the bed, spreading those firm and sexy legs.

Of course, I believe it's important to get the juices flowing properly for this procedure, so I applied my lips and tongue to warm those clean shaven folds until Mistress was fully lubricated (never hard for her, I might add).

It's always an extra thrill to taste her after one of her sessions away from the marital bed, as I try to pick up the mixing of aromas and fluids that she has acquired.  And soon she was squirming under my well practiced ministrations.

Then, as I continued to ply her with my tongue, my finger slid inside, poking and probing on it's purposeful quest. I stretched farther than normal, trying to minimize any discomfort, all the while hoping to distract her with my tongues caress.

Alas, Mistress came with a moan and convulsion before my other mission was accomplished.

"Are you sure it's in there, Mistress..... I can't find anything".

She leaned back, catching her breath.

"We couldn't find it in the sheets, Slave."

"Maybe we can get that doctor down the street to pop over..... I bet he's got some instruments that might come in handy."

She gave me a gentle slap to my ass.....

"I don't think we need to panic yet, Slave.

Fortunately, despite my 'mission fail' , Mistress was feeling merciful, so she reached for her little key and unlocked her Slave's increasingly distressed cock from its unfriendly confines.

Ahhhh. Free at last. (Yeah, I know, some of you guys go for days in that thing.... I feel your pain!)

But any further relief would be deferred. We decided to go for our bike ride instead of further indulgence, hoping that maybe some exercise would drive that little rain coat down to more reachable turf.  But even after that exercise, Slave's questing fingers came back empty.

And Slave was getting increasingly frustrated. The back of my mind was saying "fuck the lost condom, let's just fuck!", but we were both a little concerned about driving it any deeper into those clean shaven folds.

As it turned out, resorting to the internet was the ticket. Mistress googled "Finding a lost condom in your vagina", and found a technique that worked wonders. She made sure to call J with the good news. All three of us were relieved, though I did coach both of them on techniques that might avoid this little problem in the future. Always the helpful Slave, aren't I?

This successful retrieval paved the way for some luxuriant afternoon sex for Mistress and  Slave in the executive suite.  I mean, it had been almost 24 hours since  the last time this poor Slave had been given the chance to beg to come, and Mistress gave her consent!

While I had missed Mistress during her little sleepover, her absence clearly had made my heart grow even fonder, and her work-a-day cock was even more desperate for her.

Is that why this whole cuckold thing seems to work well for both of us?

Our St. Patrick's Day Festivities

Mistress and Slave had a very busy   St. Patrick's Day.

Of course, there was the luxuriant wake up sex, a little earlier than normal for a Saturday morning, because Mistress had arranged to go on a little shopping trip with J to a place that makes her Slave's skin crawl: COSTCO.  It seems they both like stocking up there, a little fringe benefit in bringing J into Mistress's life that she hadn't thought to put in her AM profile.

(For some reason they don't have a box to check after "handcuff play" or "spanking" for "Saturday morning trips to COSTCO" in the "kinks I enjoy" list).

So while Slave hunkered down to assemble all of our tax information, and then visited my grouchy Mother,  Mistress and J were pushing their carts through COSTCO, and then sharing a late breakfast at a local cafe.

I headed home at around 1 pm, and figured I might have to give Mistress a heads up. No point embarrassing    J when the doting hubby comes home, in the event their shopping trip deteriorated to a little hanky panky after unloading a years supply of laundry detergent or moisturizer.

But my warning text message and phone call went unanswered.

Hmmm.

I pulled into the drive, noting that their cars were both here.  I figured I better make some noise, promulgating a hearty "Hello Boys and Girls" as I walked up the stairs from the basement to our ground floor. 

Fortunately, Mistress acknowledged me, and as I turned into our family room I saw her there, not so discretly refastening her lacy black bra.

"We were just fooling around a little until you got home, Slave...."

Poor J, he seemed a little sheepish as he was reassembling his own Saturday shopping trip attire. I suddenly had a sense of how my Dad must have felt  when he unexpectedly barged into a hot make-out session involving me and a high school girl friend.  But I expect J will ultimately get a better sense of comfort with this admittedly unusual relationship.

He was headed home, and Mistress and Slave headed out for a bike ride in the 70-ish sunshine. When we got back to the executive suite, the plan was for some late afternoon sex.  But Mistress had some bells and whistles in mind.

She had me strip, assemble her "supplies" (her harness and strap-on) and "assume your position" on our bed, my bony, 60 yr. old ass on full display.

As I looked around, I noted with some trepidation that she had her riding crop in hand. 

"This is a little pre-emptive punishment, Slave.... I want to make sure you understand that you will be well behaved tonight...."

I sure respect those of you out there, Aisha and Donna come to mind, who seem to relish, even long for,  a  firm paddling or spanking. I for one think it hurts like hell, and its unlikely I will ever get used to the harsh sting of Mistress's crop on my bottom.... though I suppose it does have a certain compelling effect on my psyche once that initial sting fades.

So I squirmed and whined and begged for mercy as Mistress made sure I got the full treatment with her crop. It certainly focused my mind on being a "good Slave" for the rest of the evening.

And, in contrast, the nice ass fucking that followed, until Mistress came with a compelling moan and shudder, was a 'walk in the park". Luckily, Slave was rewarded with the opportunity to take my pleasure from Mistress afterwords, and then we snuggled into a nice late afternoon nap.

But soon it was time to get ready for our evening's activities.

I suppose I have Suzanne over at All Mine to thank for her emailed reminder to Mistress that her Slave should be in his cock cage for his night out on the town with the a bunch of tuxedoed Irishmen...... Gee, thanks there Suzanne!

Mistress thought I was cute in my cage and Tux shirt as we both dressed for our nights out, and took the photo above to share with our devoted readers.

As I popped in my studs, and fastened my bow tie, Mistress was primping for her date night with J. She had made clear that their plans did not include much more than some marathon love making, with a little cheese and wine to keep them going.  So it made sense that her ensemble was a frilly, matching set of undies and semi-transparent top, covered by some jeans and a loose wrap sweater.  I got a picture of that too.

It was clear she was excited about a chance for her first "sleepover" with J, though I do think she felt a little guilty about leaving her Slave all alone for the night.

"It will be fine Mistress. I'll be getting home at around midnight, and will be ready to crash by then."

As the evening progressed, we did trade a few texts, touching base. I sent her a photo of the Irish flag suspended from the grand hall where our banquet unfolded with all its bluster and pretension, the Guiness and Bushmill's flowing, and the glee club leading the crowd in the 'Soldier's Song."

But as promised, I was pulling into our drive at around 11:30 pm. AS I was lossenig my tie, my phone rang. It was Mistress.

"Hi Slave.... believe it or not, I'm in the parking lot at Kroger.... I came with J .... he needed to make a condom run....."

Oops.  I guess J was never a boy scout. He was clearly unprepared for Mistress's appetite for his cock.

"Don't they sell those by the gross at COSTCO, Mistress?"

But, despite the poor planning it sounds like Mistress's date night went about as planned. Mistress says she will be home by around 10:30 am this morning, and since I'm still in this infernal steel cage, it will not be a moment too soon.

Sleeping in the cage apparently is one rather uncomfortable way to become aware of my natural nocturnal rhythms: starting at around 3:20 am, and at about twenty minutes after the hour thereafter, I was awakened by the sharp pain of my cock and balls unconsciously swelling against that cruel barrier. 

Ouch.

When I did a little whining via text a little while ago, maybe with the hope that she would mercifully disclose the location of the key, this is the response I got:

"Good morning Slave.
Your Mistress will be home in a few hours.
Stay Caged!
I love you.
Your Mistress."

I love her too. And can't wait until she's home!

Dispatch From Our Senior Correspondent: Controlled Burn

After we got home from the big city yesterday afternoon, I rested a bit and then began reading some short stories that had been sent to me for review. Wow! I really think these stories would fall into the porn genre rather than erotic. Being the dedicated reader I am, I didn't let that slow me down one little bit, and, in fact, they charged my batteries.

I finished a couple of stories with interesting names like Pound it Home and Gangbanged at the Office, and went searching for Bill. I asked quite seductively, I thought, if he might be interested in making love. He got quiet and stared at me, and I knew his answer would be no. I moved next to him on the couch, snuggled in so his arm was draped over my barely covered breasts, blew in his ear, rubbed his tenting shorts and was all ready to see him get his sexy grin going on. Instead, he gave me a non-sexy quick kiss and said I was already overtired.

Being rather determined, I begged and said I was really, really horny. That was about when he remarked that I was adding swats to the swat count by being obstinate. I asked if it would be acceptable for me to do some “one handed reading”, maybe with the Hitachi in the other hand.

He gave a deep sign and then a sideways kind of nod, and said that if I thought I could handle it, to go ahead.

I got everything ready, feeling quite the modern woman with a Kindle in one hand and Hitachi in the other. It didn’t go as quickly as I had hoped and I wasn’t making much progress toward an orgasm. Disappointed, I turned off the Hitachi, gave it a toss and just kept reading. In a few minutes, Bill opened the door and came in to stand beside the bed. He took a look at the tossed aside Hitachi, shook his head a bit, took his tee shirt off over his head (Have I mentioned that he has been working out?) and tossed it to the floor as he dropped his shorts. Then he leaned over and pinched my nipples, hard.

I tried to get him to come onto the bed with me, I offered my butt for spanking and my pussy or mouth for whatever might please him. He said the answer was still “no”. as far as a major energy expenditure was concerned, but one good cum might help me rest. I tried not to waggle my eyebrows.

He handed me a lubed up pocket rocket and motioned for me to take care of myself. As he stood beside the bed, he began to beat the breast and nipple closest to him with his hard penis. I tried to reposition so I could lick him, I tried to move my arm so I could massage his balls, but instead, he stopped everything! He even reached over to hold my hand controlling the pocket rocket still. Then he looked at me and said, “Do you want this, or not?” Oops.

Aggravating the Dom might not be in my own best interest. After my answer of, “Yes, Sir,” we both continued and within a short time we were both cumming beautifully. He shot all over my chest, shoulder, neck and a bit landed on my chin and lips. Yum!

He told me to stay put and returned in a couple of minutes with a soft, warm washcloth to clean me. I gave him a very sincere thank-you, and he quirked an eyebrow, handed me my Kindle and left the room. Just as he walked out the door he said, " Oh, that will be another five swats for trying to push me." Oh, good..er, bad!

Sometimes there is a difference in what we need and what is good for us. And sometimes we just have to do those things that remind us that we are passionately alive. I know I’ve said it before, but I am so lucky to have this guy in my life who understands that concept. And he says he is equally lucky with what I bring to the dance that is our life together. So it’s all cool.

Sated and smiling,

Donna