Tool Time

Last evening at home after a long work day, Mistress and Slave were huddled under our blanket in bed, catching up on emails, and contemplating when and whether to go downstairs to whip up a light dinner.

Remember me saying that it was warm here in River City on Tuesday?

Well the climate changed again, the hot flashes ended, and we are back in the deep freeze here again.

It was nice under those covers. Mistress was still in those black tights she wears to work, but had slipped a short midnight blue velvety nightie on to complement them.

Realizing that I had not performed my worshipful duty yet, I tried to make amends.

"Would you like me to worship, Mistress."

Rather than reprimand me for being a little slow on the trigger, she expressed reservations.

"That would be nice, but then I'd have to take off my tights, Slave.... and it's so cold!"

I pondered a second. It would be a little hard to get her off via tongue and lips through those tights.

But then I became a resourceful pampered house Slave.

"How 'bout I use the Hitachi, Mistress.  That would work through those tights."

It did not take her long to come around to my way of thinking. I just reached for the power tool parked under my side of the bed, thumbed it on low speed, and put it to work.

"ummmmm..... that's nice, Slave....."

Soon she was thrusting up against the chruning bulb parked between those tighted thighs, and Slave was enjoying all those little moaning sounds she produces.

The resulting  cum seemed a nice appetizer  for the dinner we had planned.

"That was nice... Slave...."

"Glad to be of service, Mistress."

Blame it on Global Warming?

It was an oddly balmy day for late January in River City. Temperatures in the mid-60s?  Of course there's no such thing as global warming, right?

Maybe it was the weather that got Mistress and Slave a little randier than normal.

There was some steamy wake-up sex before we both headed to work.

Then it turned out Mistress was stopping by at a client's office in my building at mid-morning. When Mistress stops by, no matter how briefly, the first order of business is a sp,e appropriate worship. Slave slides the chair against my (unlockable) door for a little privacy. The soft and absorbent blanket is placed on its seat and Mistress settles into her throne. 

Yesterday, though they probably weren't necessary, she had on her black tights and lace up knee scraping black boots. So she had to slide off one boot and wriggle off a leg of those tights to give Slave access to her clean shaven folds.

Falling to my knees, I went to work, and soon had Mistress squirming in her seat to a nice little mid-day cum. I didn't take a picture, but this illustration from a new blog I found (and listed on the role) called Lipstick and Ligature suggests that office worship has a long and international tradition.  I just need one of those overstuffed chairs:

 But one comment on this guy's technique: not sure old Mick's aging knees could handle the "deep knee bend" approach he is using in this illustration. Ouch. Let's hope that lady cums as quickly as my Mistress.

Soon she was off for another meeting, but not before I mentioned I'd be home a little early, after a dentist's appointment. She then decided to head home early too, since she'd be at a meeting closer to home as well in the late afternoon. I mean why truck all the way back downtown?

Which meant we were both home by  4 pm.  I sorted through Mistress's AM in-box while she handed a call with a client.

I've gotten pretty cut-throat when it comes to deletions of her many potential suitors, knowing more about Mistress's particular standards as the process has unfolded. Yesterday I was happy to delete two dudes of the "passing through town, so lets hook up" genre.

"That's what escort services are for, Slave...."

"Exactly".

Any guys who, in their first contact use the words "babe", "sweetheart" or "cock" are also sent back to cyber oblivion.

Plus anyone from a little town called "Union, Ky."  We think AM must have done an intensive marketing job there, because 2 out of every 5 guys between the ages of 25 and 65 must have an account.

After Mistress was done with ehr call, we quickly shelved the idea of a pre-dusk bike ride,  stripped off the work clothes and settled in between the sheets.

There were other priorities.

On Cyber Mating

 In lieu of a real blog today, I'm sharing this interesting link, spun off the strange tale of the linebacker with the not really dead pretend girlfriend. 


Manti and the Mating Game - NYTimes.com

Good point: sure on-line hook-ups are a tad bizarre. But consider the more limited options beforehand, dear readers. 

Free at Last

At approximately 11:55 am yesterday morning, Mistress and her devoted Slave dropped our daughter off at the airport. Her college has some sort of interminable winter "intercession" that means 2nd semester does not begin until this week.

And as charming as she can be .... well, let's face it, she's not so charming to her oh so tedious and insufferable parents... we were in a celebratory mood when she stepped into the security line for her trip back to campus.

"At last, Mistress, we have our empty nest back!"

"Not a moment too soon, Slave...."

It was almost like a vacation back at the UCTMW World HQ, Sunday afternoon. The NY Times awaited. And with the first Sunday in many months with no NFL football to watch (ProBowl? Please?), Slave had no excuse to put off what Mistress had been lobbying for for several months.... finally tuning into the Downton Abbey Series that so many of her friends had been touting as "mist see".

So we lounged about, Mistress flashing those folds beneath her lounge wear, and watched several 1st Season episodes via Hulu.  Slave paged through the paper and did his duty as Mistress's designated social secretary on Ashley Madison. (Mistress hates the task of having to sort through an overly full inbox, so it's my job to make the first cut, deleting the suitors who are clearly unsuitable, and bringing the rare few who might make the cut to her attention).

After about two episodes, there was a Downton Abbey "recess", including a nice late afternoon nap, followed by our second round of sexual play of the day. Mistress was a little surprised when I deployed her favorite power tool to provide a little more fun for her clean shaven folds. She even asked permission before she came, without me having to remind her it was Switch Day. And Slave was more than happy to take his turn the old fashioned way, after she had a nice mega-cum thanks to the miracle of sexual technology.

After  two bodies in motion finally came to rest, we fixed ourselves some dinner, and watched another 2 episodes of the show that so many folks have been chattering about. About mid-way through, I had already adopted an annoying twitty English accent, securing me a severe reprimand.

"You're making fun Slave.... it's really not that bad, is it?"

Actually it wasn't that bad. I've always taken a shine to Elizabeth McGovern. But still, it's not exactly Homeland. And is it sufficiently macho to say you enjoy anything on Masterpiece Theatre? Am I going metrosexual like Tom Brady?

"It's OK Mistress... but I hope they add some Vampires by the time we get to the 2nd season...."

What's the point of a drafty English manor house without vampires? Or at least a few zombies?