A Commentary on Romance from Our Senior Correspondent

Donna, Our Senior Correspondent passed on the following to share with our readers:

 I  just read a blog about things that are considered to be romantic. The blog talked about how most men and women consider sending flowers, or going dancing, or gifting expensive colognes and perfumes to be romantic. I didn't comment there, but want to here. I think it's the connection to more that makes things romantic. Any dumbo can order flowers, it's the follow-up that makes the romance.

For example, my favorite blooms are wild flowers still growing in a field or blooming along the side of the road. We regularly drive through the mountains to see them, stopping to lay out a blanket and make love. When Bill pulls the duffel bag containing the blanket, lube and a clean wash cloth out of the back of the truck and I know he planned this, that's romance.

  And we enjoy dancing, but at home rather than out. Bill turns up the music on the stereo and spins me in the wheelchair, dancing around it with that sort of 70s dancing style that is less a real dance and more of a sexy, swinging wiggle. It makes me laugh, it makes my heart swell, and that's romance.

  I am in the middle of being fitted for a new wheelchair. It's been over 20 years since my last new chair and Bill goes with me to each appointment, voices his opinion and then steps back for me to make the final choices. He rubs my neck and gives me a nod of encouragement as I make the choices that are right for the changes in my body rather than what I would prefer to have. That's romance!

And the fist pump and shout he gave when the physical therapist said it looks like the insurance company will probably cover many of the upgrades that will keep me more mobile, that was romantic, too.

And here's romance for you. I haven't been able to lie flat in a bed for months due to changes in my spine, so I sleep in a special recliner in the den. Someday we'll be able to afford one of those beds that can be adjusted for each person and we'll share a bed at night again, but for now this is how it is. There is never a complaint from Bill. He tucks me into the recliner very lovingly with a deep kiss, some nipple twists and goes on to bed. Romance!

When Bill decides we will make love or partake in some BDSM, he brings out the ramps, positions them for me, and places me where I will be safe while he spanks or flogs my ass and shoves dildos and vibrators here and there, and then breaks out the Hitachi. Romance!

 Thanks, Donna. And what I particularly liked was this chart of wheel chair friendly positions that you also forwarded today. You may need to update us on your progress through this selection.

Furtive, Longing Glances ...

With a full nest and the demands of our jobs after a week in our mountain hideaway, its been a little hard to generate blog-worthy activity here at the UCTMW World HQ this week.

Of course, there was some nice bed time sex Monday night, with Mistress demanding that her Slave insert "my device" to assure an extra hard work-a-day cock. And some robust wake up sex Tuesday morning too.

But with our daughters hovering.... well we have to keep things in the "friendly confines" of the executive suite.

 Last evening we took the two of them - both dressed quite elegantly I might add - to a political fund raising  event at a very swanky house. It may not have been kinky, but I was proud to have my three beauties with me for an evening out. The girls more than held their own in chatting with some local (and national) big hitters.

Nice.

Of course, with our kids here, and with J's son visiting him, it's also been hard for Mistress to get together with her lover for the more "athletic" sex they share. My guess is it has them both a little frustrated. Last night in bed, we talked that over as I dined on Mistress's clean shaven folds as she toggled through her linked on connections. (Isn't multi-tasking fun?)

"It's been almost three weeks since I've had sex with J, Slave..... weird...."

"I bet he's missing it, Mistress...."

As it turns out, We've invited J and his son over for dinner tonight.  If it was up to the two of us, we'd try to arrange some private time for them as I grill the Salmon, but with three sets of prying eyes around, they may have to settle for some private longing looks and a stray fondle.

Poor kids!

Before we settled in last night, Mistress did mention that she'd not had a chance to scan yesterday's comments.

"The consensus seemed to be that you do deserve a very firm spanking after outing me to the kids and your mother over me reading "50 Shades"".

"But [our sullen teen] will be home Sunday, Slave...."

"Maybe I'll just turn the music up extra loud.... where there's a will there's a way.... by the time I'm done your bottom will be fifty shades of red....."

Fifty Shades of Shame

You know I hate coming back to this topic.

But, sometimes it's like Al Pacino in Godfather II - it just keeps pulling me back in.

Like on Sunday. There is something odd about going to the local grocery store and seeing a big display of a psuedo-smutty BDSM novel in aisle number 8, with half the books already gone, and one dog eared one there with the cover bent back, like a shopper had spent about an hour thumbing through looking for the good parts.

I was going to  let that drop though, despite the temptation to take a photo of this pathetic display with my I-phone.

But then it happened again, on Sunday evening. Dinner at the Mother-in-Law's house with our two daughters and one of their Co-Ed friends.

I'm not sure who brought it up: maybe the friend. She read it. Then our daughter just back from Europe says she read it. She comments that it's knocked off from the "Twilight" series, something we've commented about here. The girls both agree it's a little "weird".

Slave is keeping his mouth shut.

But could Mistress leave this alone. Oh No.

"You know, your father read it too!"

Jaws drop. Heads turn. Including the dumbstruck daughters and my very proper Mother-in-Law.

Dad wants to hide in a corner.

I was tempted to say, "Only so I could write a book review for our sex blog, honey!"

But I simply switched into my damage control mode, sort of on auto-pilot.

"Well it was getting all this publicity. As a student of pop culture I had to see what all the talk was about."

Daughter No. 2:

"I can't believe you read THAT......"

"Well I really just skimmed it."

More aghast looks. Them probably thinking I was just looking for the "good" parts.

"And boy was it lame...."

Of course, I'm not explaining why I thought it was lame. That there really aren't any 23 year old college grad virgins are there? Or that she just just have stopped agonizing and enjoy all those cums.

Again with "You really read THAT?"

I think you get the picture.

As it turns out, our older daughter had NOT read it. So when we got home, Mistress simply handed her the book that had been gathering dust on our shelf since my review.

Let's hope she doesn't give me those incredulous "Dad, that's disgusting" looks once she finishes it.

All I can say is this: Switch Day can't come soon enough this week, because Mistress is going to get a nice spanking when it does.

You Call This Air?

As our tiny plane  made it's approach to the ever-shrinking River City aerodrome yesterday afternoon we were confronted by a hazy, soupy 103 degree mix of car exhaust and naturally fermented methane with a slight CO2 chaser.

What a terrible change from the clear, cool, dry high dessert air we had enjoyed at our mountain hideaway. Mistress was already conspiring to go to her Doctor for a medical excuse to work from our cabin for the duration of the summer. I had to advise her that might not set her up for a "disability" defense should her employer insist that one of the requirements of her job is actually showing up.

I know, you're expecting a political rant on "global warming". All I can say is that this must be part of God's plan for us, right? Otherwise why would he have created coal, oil, jet skis, power boats and Oil Company PACs?

We did successfully collect our sullen teen after her year abroad before heading out into the blast furnace. She seems smarter, funnier, more tolerant of her parents' BS, skinnier, and considerate. I wonder if any of that will last the week?

And once we went through the mail, briefly celebrated her return, and confirmed the death of our lawn and plants after a week of 100 degree plus sun, we were behind closed doors in our executive suite.

It had been a long travel day. and a return to the stress of life here in "reality" was a little daunting. Mistress did talk to J, who also was dealing with some "shit" as they say. I heard her suggest to him that
you need to get laid" as an antidote. And I think I have a good idea who was more than happy to accommodate that "need".  Let's hope they can arrange that soon, despite the presence of our two teens.

Once her call with J was done, it was tempting for the two of us to call it a night.

 But the aromas wafting from Mistress's now naked clean shaven folds were sending quite a different message.

Yes, we were tired. But what better way to shake off the heavy atmospheric, back to the grind stone metals we were enduring than some carnal diversion.

Mistress seemed to get the same vibe at about the same time.

"So are we going to have sex, Slave?"

"I must say those scents are distracting, Mistress."

"Well I hope so.... go put in your device, Slave..... I want it particularly hard tonight."

Of course, she was referring to the aneros, which I lubed up and slid home for her.

Then I dived right in, feasting on her. No she hadn't showered on ou travel day, but sometimes that day old brew is just what the doctor ordered. After she had her starter cum, courtesy of her Slave's avid tongue and lips, she wondered out loud, "how's my cock, Slave?"

Actually, it was more than ready for her.