Friday Evening With Belle de Jour

We're both happy its a weekend at home with little scheduled.

Last evening I stopped on the way home from my conference for some provisions at the local grocery store, while Mistress was collecting our daughter from her not too faraway college campus.

She was home only briefly - disrupting the karma of the empty nest just so long as it took her to gather up some things to head to a friend's house for the evening.

That gave us time for a bike ride on the cool evening, before adjourning to our bedroom for some very civilized kick off the weekend love making, followed by a restful nap.

We drifted back to planet earth around 8 pm, just in time to prepare a quick dinner and watch a movie that had been sitting in its netflix envelope for a few weeks on my dresser: Belle de Jour.

I suspect most of our readers have seem this: a Louis Brunel classic starring a young Katherine Deneauve from 1967.  I was in high school then, so doubt I saw it in the original run, but maybe in college, sometime in the 1968-72 time frame.  Then Molly and I caught it at the theatre during its re-release around 1995.

It was interesting to see in light of this chatter about Shades of Grey, the E L James "mommy porn" that we had fun with here earlier this week.

First, "Belle", a 23 year old frigid newly wed, is about the same age as the virginal Anastasia in Shades of Grey. Both start out sexually inexperienced. But Belle already has her hunky husband. She just seems unable to warm to him, as they sleep in those twin beds you might recall from Ward and June Cleaver's bedroom.

But unlike Ana, who seems never to have considered the subject of sex before falling under the spell of the incredibly rich of a tad sadistic Christian, Belle has some strange fantasies going on underneath. The film starts with this scene, where she imagines her husband turning her over to two gruff coachmen who tie her to a tree limb, whip and then sexually molest her to her unexpected delight.

Ultimately, Belle takes her fantasies to a high end brothel in Paris, where she experiences a variety of clients. One discovers that "she likes it rough". Her clients provide the education and stimulation that her handsome if bland doctor husband does not. But of course she always makes sure to be home by 5 pm to greet her husband as the young innocent when he returns from a long day at the hospital.

Mistress and I saw the movie anew last night, enjoying the Paris street scenes after our recent trip, and the Mad Men with a French twist 60's era costumes and sets. And we noticed in one scene that the lovely Belle was wearing black patent leather shoes similar to those Molly had on in the picture in Thursday's blog.

It's hard to recall what old Mick took from this movie back in my innocent youth, on that all male Catholic campus.  But it certainly didn't discourage me from testing conventional sexual boundaries later in life, did it? 

I suspect that in its own way, the Shades of Grey phenomenon, despite the hackneyed writing and fantastical characters will induce its own legacy of experimentation.

And today, my own lovely "Belle de Jour" will be stopping off at J's house for some afternoon delight of her own.

"I hope you don't mind if it interferes with our usual Saturday afternoon 'activities',  Slave.... it's been a while since I fucked you in the Ass."

"Not at all, Mistress..... I'm sure J has been missing you.... he deserves a matinee."

Of course, nothing prevented me from taking full advantage of Mistress's availability this morning here in the executive suite, which should explain the slight delay in this morning's post.

Bon Jour, all.  Mine has already started out rather "bon".

Late Edition

Slave was a little off his game this morning. I had an early conference call, and needed to hit the road for a meeting in our oh-so-flat state capitol, about 2 hours up the highway.

So here's the choice: get up early, brew coffee and write a blog, or hunker down under the sheets with Mistress on an unseasonably chilly Friday morning as long as possible.

Obviously, you know the choice I made. And Mistress rewarded my sloth with some particularly hot wake-up sex, but only after I made sure her clean shaven folds were sufficiently attended to by my lips and tongue.

In fact she was so generous in her attentions, and her enthralling fragrance and the soft texture of her skin was so compelling that it almost made me feel bad that I had given her that "nostalgic" spanking last Sunday in our DC hotel room, turning her bottom all rosey, as depicted in this photo:

So as I sit here in this rather tedious meeting, discretely typing on my laptop in the back of the conference room where no one can tell that I am posting to a sex blog rather than studiously taking notes from yet another tedious power point presentation, I hope you will cut me some slack over my lack of attention to the morning's deadline.

I figure a  little "cheesecake" should ease your impatience when the morning edition of UCTMW does not arrive in your in-box on time.

HNT/ Mid Week Orgasm Overload for Mistress

Mistress seemed to have a good day here in River City. And Slave has no complaints either.

There was some early morning wake-up sex, which delivered at least two cums to her before she headed off for her 7 am bike ride.

While she was riding, Slave finished his "book review", which Mistress read after we showered. Naturally, while she was reading it only seemed natural for Mistress to spread those lovely thighs to allow her Slave access to those clean shaven folds, from the kneeling position.

So there was another cum for her, and we still had a whole day in front of us.

We had planned on lunch together, and Mistress pulled her car up in front of my building. I took the wheel for the short drive up to a local market area, where we had a yummy lunch of Vietnamese noodles and spring rolls. Then we picked up some ruby trout for dinner. J was planning to join us, and we know he enjoys Mick's fish.

We headed back to my office - Mistress had a post lunch appointment elsewhere in my building - and there was still a little time for some mid-day worship.

Our loyal readers know the routine by now. Slave slides Mistress's "throne" against the door, and spreads an absorbent blanket on the seat.  Mistress sits.  Now that tights season is over, all she had to do was pull down her "drawers" let them droop over one foot, and let Slave fall to his knees and take care of business.   By the time I was done, Mistress had moaned and shuddered her way to two more cums.

We were headed home for our dinner with J by 5:30 pm.  We were thrilled to find what we had been waiting for for weeks now: notice that sullen teen # 2 had gotten into the college of her choice, which was a big stress reliever for her parents.  This put us in a celebratory mood, and as we changed into our dinner attire: me jeans and a polo shirt, Mistress a very short black and white lace nightie, sans undies, Mistress reminded me of my duties.

"Aren't you going to offer to worship, Slave?"

"Of course, Mistress..... I just thought that with J coming over you might not want to 'indulge' before dinner....."

"You think too much, Slave....."

No doubt. So there I was, on my knees again for the third time of the day.   Mistress seemed pleased, and even more relaxed by the time I was done with my "duties".

Soon I was preping for dinner, and J arrived at around 7 pm.  Mistress greeted her in the naughty little outfit decribed above, which seemed to raise an eyebrow.

"It's been a week J..... did you miss me?"

I think we all know the answer to that question.  But Mistress liked hearing it anyway.

Dinner was tasty, if I do say so myself.  Trout Almondine. Roasted Potatoes. Sauteed green beans.

Mistress offered to clean up while the "men folk" talked, but I wouldn't allow it.

"Don't you two kids have some catching up to do?"

Mistress certainly agreed, and led our guest by the hand up to the "Executive Suite".

Slave busied himself for the next couple of hours with the NY Times and the ranting on MSNBC.

When Mistress and J came up for air, joining me downstairs,  She had a dazed, well-fucked look.  Who knows how many more cums had been added to the day's tote board.

The three of us sat a while on our coach, Mistress in the middle, cuddled up to both of us, as we watched the most recent episode of Mad Men - A classic I might add, wherein Peggy gives a hand job to an anonymous fellow she shares a joint with at a movie theatre, and Roger Sterling takes an LSD trip.   Ahhhh.... the 60's.

After J bid farewell, Mistress and I headed up for bed.  I offered to worship one more time, a nightcap so to speak, but Mistress admitted she'd had her fill, at least for a Wednesday. 

_______________________________________

P.S. - yesterday we did our review here of Fifty Shades of Grey.  For a more thoughtful and better written take, check out Remittance Girl. http://remittancegirl.com/

Fifty Shades of Cliches: a UCTMW Book Review

Slave had grown tired of all these news articles about the run-away, kindle stuffing,  word of mouth erotica blockbuster, Fifty Shades of Grey over these last few weeks.

First there was the cover story on the New York Times that caught my eye. Then the snarky column by Maureen Dowd casting aspersions by citing her pal who she claimed was a bona fide dominatrix. (Some of us wondered whether she was quoting herself!)

This week it was  a Newsweek cover story psycho-babbling about  the needs of women to submit as a reaction to the "liberating" stresses of feminism. And there was a counter article in Salon by a purported Domme about the fact that "guys like it too!"  The Entertainment magazines are already casting the movie for us.

So when I saw the whole danged "Fifty Shades" trilogy on sale at the airport book stall last week on my way to DC, I decided it was time for me to put on my UCTMW book reviewer hat and see what the fuss was about. I picked up the first book in the trilogy, and finished it over the weekend.

It was a quick, amusing read, but rest assured that I will not be acquiring volumes 2 and 3.

What we have here seems to be a cleverly marketed cult classic wannabe by author  E L James, "a former TV executive, wife and mother of two", which has all the narrative stylings and linguistic finesse of a Nancy Drew book layered with a veneer of soft core porn.

While her books has been described as  a hit with the housewife set, it is written as if  the target audience is teenaged girls. Think the Vampire books, but substitute for the devastatingly handsome vampire an even more  devastatingly handsome, impossibly rich, 27 year old amateur concert pianist and pilot, named Chrsitian Grey, with  a "Red Room of Pain" in his Puget sound view luxury condo, tricked out with all the bondage parephenalia one could dream about.

 Instead of longing to suck the blood from our virgin  heroine,  recent college grad and English major, Anastasia Steele, this guy would rather tie her down, spank her ass and  force multiple orgasms from her awkward but shapely young body.

What teenaged girl could resist this fantasy?

But the heroine in this book does way too much agonizing, even as she wallows in all those cums, not to mention the stylish Audi, priceless first editions, new Mac Book Pro and sophisticated  wardrobe our hero/villian lavishes on her. All he wants her to do is sign a contract of submission for a three month term, not unlike the one between Slave and Mistress here at UCTMW. But this "contract" has so many out clauses it seems hard to complain about.

And yet.... despite multiple rounds of negotiations, and plenty of concessions from Mr. Grey (only three nights a week? sure baby) , she never can get to "Yes", despite what she describes as her undying love and attraction for her would be Dom.  She just wants "more", can't he understand that?

Particularly annoying for those of us who dabble in this "lifestyle", is that the author seems to go out of her way to judge Mr. Grey for his lovely kinks, while fully exploiting all those kinks to sell her books.

How to explain his perversion?  Well, he was the son of a crack whore, who put cigarettes out on his chest, until he was adopted by a wealthy couple from Bellevue.  But just when things were turning the corner for poor little Christian, he was seduced at 15 by some "witchy" house wife, aka "Mrs. Robinson", who "abused" him as her "sex slave" for a few years until her hubbie discovered their secret.

How come my neighborhood didn't have any women like that as an alternative to the Boy Scouts?

Mr. Grey a guy who can't handle being touched. But he obsesses about "hurting" poor Anastasia before forcing yet more orgasms from her.

So despite all of those hot sex scenes, tossed in every 12 and 1/2 pages or so, the hard part of reading this book is all the angst in between, as poor Ana battles her nagging "subconscious" and "inner goddess", depicted as two little mini-Anas, with one telling her to hold out for "true love" , sans a sore ass, and the other telling her to grovel her way to sexual glory.

Gag.

And then there are the cascading cliches that one has to suffer through to struggle to the end. How many times did I have to read that Mr. Grey "found his release" (but, of course,  only after Ana was "shattered" by her own breathtaking cum)? 

How many times did I have to learn that Ana was intoxicated by the scent of Mr. Grey's freshly washed hair and body wash?

WTF.

What self respecting Dom uses "bodywash"?  Irish Spring, Dial  or Ivory aren't good enough?

 I suspect these books will endlessly circulate through high school lockers and college dorms over the next 5 years, earning E L James countless millions, particularly from the movie rights. But the discerning readers of UCTMW can do so much better when they reload their kindles.