I'm wondering if Bill, our Director of Security International picked up on this gift giving opportunity in his home state. North Carolina Jeweler Offers Free Shotguns For Valentine's Day | TPM LiveWire
Thursday, February 7, 2013
Only a Week Left for Your Valentine's Day Shopping
I'm wondering if Bill, our Director of Security International picked up on this gift giving opportunity in his home state. North Carolina Jeweler Offers Free Shotguns For Valentine's Day | TPM LiveWire
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Our Senior Correspondent Pitches Concept For Next Year's Super Bowl Ad
Please notice the attached photo. You may agree there is great similarity in the packaging of these very different items, and that may help you to understand how I knew it was Monday morning, even without the help of a calendar.
It was my own fault. Yesterday, while I was cleaning out the drawers in the master bathroom, the phone rang. I became distracted and didn't get back to finish putting the last few items back where they belong. Then this morning, before coffee, I reached for a few of my regular AM items and things didn't go exactly according to plan.
First, I grabbed the smaller tube in the photo, put a line of paste on my toothbrush and as I made those first few brushing motions, I realized the texture was wrong and the taste was way the heck off. It wasn't Crest toothpaste. No, it was Preparation H. Ew! I was rinsing and spitting hot water for several minutes trying to get the taste out of my mouth. The good news is that my gum tissue isn't swollen or bleeding and probably won't be for some time to come.
Still spitting a bit, I took my shower, shampooed and fixed my hair. The day was looking up. But then, as I spread the Oil of Olay Regenerist across my face, it seemed a tad more viscous than usual and very, very slick. There was a reason why. It wasn't my Oil of Olay, it was sex toy lube. While certainly not the first sex related fluid to land on my face, the surprise factor was a tad overwhelming. The good news is that my face feels baby butt smooth today.
In reading back over this account of the pre-dawn, pre-coffee happenings in our home this morning, I see that I have left out a few choice words that I may have uttered after each event of misplaced product. I'll leave my actual word choice to your imagination. Bill, however, doesn't need to imagine because he heard those words loud and clear. In fact, my garbled yelling while the Preparation H still clung to my teeth was the first sound he heard this morning. And sadly, he had just drifted back to sleep when I sounded the "Oh, Shit!" in response to the lube on my face.
I could say that Bill wasn't amused, but that would be a lie. He was as amused as he can be first thing in the morning...to the point of doubling over, pointing and snorting as he laughed! And when he stopped laughing and said he wanted to find a way to help reset my attitude and to also express his deep appreciation for waking him an hour before his alarm clock, I knew I was in trouble.
Mr. Bill grabbed the ping pong paddle and his favorite flogger, had me lay across the end of the bed, and proceeded to really warm up my butt. There were swats for not finishing what I started, a few for my colorful language, a few for the look I gave him when he laughed, and a few on general principle.
Being a good Dom, a very good Dom, he really did know what I needed. And as he lay with his body on top of mine, his front to my red hot ass, I knew what he needed, too. I moved my butt against his penis just right, knowing he wouldn't be able to resist, and we continued on to the point that we both experienced an even better start to the day! Gotta love that!
Hugs,
Donna
Donna, maybe you can story board this for a Super Bowl Ad next year! I'm sure the folks at Preparation H could get some buzz going!
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Family Secrets
It actually snowed here yesterday... only a few inches, that the road crews handled by noon - but Mistress and her devoted Slave used it as an excuse to doing nothing much at all. Well, of course, there was some steamy morning sex before a trip to the gym.
And Slave did visit his cranky Mother at mid-day. But the rest of the day was a blissful retreat to our empty nest, highlighted by some late afternoon fucking amidst the disheveled sheets of our bed.
And we even watched more of Downton Abbey. For Slave it's a bit more interesting in the 2nd season, with some of the characters off in the trenches in France. Maybe there are no vampires yet, but at least folks are getting out of the Manse a bit more, with the real world intruding. And it got me thinking about my own doughboy Grandfather, who drove an ambulance under General Pershing's command in the final horrific months of that war. We have his old WWI helmet sitting in our living room still.
Or did he?
Friday I was talking to a new acquaintance, who I discovered hails from the same musty Northeastern state capitol where I spent my early years. My family history is filled with tales of my Grandparents' minor role in an entrenched Irish Catholic political machine that ran the city for decades. The sort of machine that slipped easily across the border into what some of us now would consider organized crime in these more "transparent" days. Think Miller's Crossing if you are a fan of the Coen Brothers.
The Party Boss who kept the city under his thumb from the 1930's until his death in 1977 was named Dan, sharing the surname of the famous Irish nationalist "Liberator" of the 19th Century.
This new friend and I started trading stories about our home town. He shared one I'd never heard before: that the machine's blue blooded front man Mayor - Erastus - who held office over 42 years, from before WWII until the 1980's - may be the real grandfather, by way of a multi-decade mistress, of the blonde U.S. Senator who took the seat once held by a recently retired Secretary of State.
When I stopped by my Mother's Condo, I figured this was a better topic to chat about than which of her friends got sick or died this week.
"So Mom, is there any truth to the story that the old Mayor had a long serving Mistress, who's granddaughter is now a Senator?"
She claimed had not heard the name of her old State's latest US Senator, , but hardly seemed surprised by the yarn.
"All those guys had a girl on the side in those days...."
And then she went on to add some details of a different a story she mentioned to me once.
"You know, when I was born, Dan (The Boss) sent 3 dozen red roses to my mother's hospital room... she always said that it had the nurses gossiping .... "
"And how did you interpret that, Mom?"
"Well would it surprise me if Dan was my real father? What do you think?"
She added some more detail, about how the local ward boss was always attentive when she asked for money to support the school yearbook. And how her purported father always had some small role in the machine.
And when her father (my grandfather) died in the early 1950's, not long after I was born and after years of suffering from the lingering effect of "The Hun's" mustard gas, Dan came calling. My mother overheard some of the conversation.
"He offered to pay all the costs of the funeral.... but my Mother was stubborn... she said no...."
"But he did get her a patronage job after that, right?"
"Oh yes.... she had to live on something....."
Here's a picture of Dan with Erastus in the 1970's. (Of course, Dan is the short guy in the hat):
(There are only a handful of photos of record of Dan, all with that same fedora!)
I do remember my grandmother "going to work" everyday at some office in the old City Hall, always wondering what she actually did there. My guess: Not much. But she was "taken care of".
I noticed a thick biography of the Mayor on my Mother's shelf and paged through it as we talked. Sure enough, there was a reference to the Mayor's legendary Mistress, Polly, the current Senator's grandmother. My mother recognized many of the names, including Polly's husband, from the old Irish South end neighborhood.
So I borrowed the biography and last night delved into the chapter on the Mayor's "unusual" family life.
Turns out that he, Polly and her husband may have been in a classic cuckold relationship, before there was a name for it. After the Mayor's death in 1982, Polly gave a long interview to the author describing relaxed nights at home, the three of them, their kids too, lounging about, sipping scotch and chatting.
The Mayor spent little time at his own home, where his wife focused on an elaborate garden, shipping their two children off to boarding school. Instead Erastus was typically seen out on the town and at political conventions over the decades with the voluptuous, frank and earthy Polly, who seemed to be the only one who could publicly give the Mayor a good "talking too."
Here's a shot of the two of them in 1937, both on the right, front row. He was a 28 yr. old State Senator then. She was his 22 year old newlywed secretary, who got her job (naturally) through Dan.
The Mayor was so close to Polly's kids, that he bequeathed them his insurance business (which no doubt prospered through his political contacts and clout as Mayor), despite a legal challenge from his wife and her children.
So what's the real story? Was Polly some throwback dominatrix, who, not unlike Suzanne over at All Mine, had a submissive husband at home, and a more Alpha lover who ran the City as the classic big fish in a small town, and who also fathered her children?
Or, as she insisted long past Erastus's death, was their relationship purely platonic and political, with the Mayor hanging about simply because hers was the type of "normal" family that he did not have back at his own mansion on the hill?
And what about my own grandmother and Dan, the boss of bosses? Was he really my mother's father, and my purported grandfather the willing "cuck"?
Some family mysteries are more intriguing when left unresolved.
And Slave did visit his cranky Mother at mid-day. But the rest of the day was a blissful retreat to our empty nest, highlighted by some late afternoon fucking amidst the disheveled sheets of our bed.
And we even watched more of Downton Abbey. For Slave it's a bit more interesting in the 2nd season, with some of the characters off in the trenches in France. Maybe there are no vampires yet, but at least folks are getting out of the Manse a bit more, with the real world intruding. And it got me thinking about my own doughboy Grandfather, who drove an ambulance under General Pershing's command in the final horrific months of that war. We have his old WWI helmet sitting in our living room still.
Or did he?
Friday I was talking to a new acquaintance, who I discovered hails from the same musty Northeastern state capitol where I spent my early years. My family history is filled with tales of my Grandparents' minor role in an entrenched Irish Catholic political machine that ran the city for decades. The sort of machine that slipped easily across the border into what some of us now would consider organized crime in these more "transparent" days. Think Miller's Crossing if you are a fan of the Coen Brothers.
The Party Boss who kept the city under his thumb from the 1930's until his death in 1977 was named Dan, sharing the surname of the famous Irish nationalist "Liberator" of the 19th Century.
This new friend and I started trading stories about our home town. He shared one I'd never heard before: that the machine's blue blooded front man Mayor - Erastus - who held office over 42 years, from before WWII until the 1980's - may be the real grandfather, by way of a multi-decade mistress, of the blonde U.S. Senator who took the seat once held by a recently retired Secretary of State.
When I stopped by my Mother's Condo, I figured this was a better topic to chat about than which of her friends got sick or died this week."So Mom, is there any truth to the story that the old Mayor had a long serving Mistress, who's granddaughter is now a Senator?"
She claimed had not heard the name of her old State's latest US Senator, , but hardly seemed surprised by the yarn.
"All those guys had a girl on the side in those days...."
And then she went on to add some details of a different a story she mentioned to me once.
"You know, when I was born, Dan (The Boss) sent 3 dozen red roses to my mother's hospital room... she always said that it had the nurses gossiping .... "
"And how did you interpret that, Mom?"
"Well would it surprise me if Dan was my real father? What do you think?"
She added some more detail, about how the local ward boss was always attentive when she asked for money to support the school yearbook. And how her purported father always had some small role in the machine.
And when her father (my grandfather) died in the early 1950's, not long after I was born and after years of suffering from the lingering effect of "The Hun's" mustard gas, Dan came calling. My mother overheard some of the conversation.
"He offered to pay all the costs of the funeral.... but my Mother was stubborn... she said no...."
"But he did get her a patronage job after that, right?"
"Oh yes.... she had to live on something....."
Here's a picture of Dan with Erastus in the 1970's. (Of course, Dan is the short guy in the hat):
(There are only a handful of photos of record of Dan, all with that same fedora!)
I do remember my grandmother "going to work" everyday at some office in the old City Hall, always wondering what she actually did there. My guess: Not much. But she was "taken care of".
I noticed a thick biography of the Mayor on my Mother's shelf and paged through it as we talked. Sure enough, there was a reference to the Mayor's legendary Mistress, Polly, the current Senator's grandmother. My mother recognized many of the names, including Polly's husband, from the old Irish South end neighborhood.
So I borrowed the biography and last night delved into the chapter on the Mayor's "unusual" family life.
Turns out that he, Polly and her husband may have been in a classic cuckold relationship, before there was a name for it. After the Mayor's death in 1982, Polly gave a long interview to the author describing relaxed nights at home, the three of them, their kids too, lounging about, sipping scotch and chatting.
The Mayor spent little time at his own home, where his wife focused on an elaborate garden, shipping their two children off to boarding school. Instead Erastus was typically seen out on the town and at political conventions over the decades with the voluptuous, frank and earthy Polly, who seemed to be the only one who could publicly give the Mayor a good "talking too."
Here's a shot of the two of them in 1937, both on the right, front row. He was a 28 yr. old State Senator then. She was his 22 year old newlywed secretary, who got her job (naturally) through Dan.
So what's the real story? Was Polly some throwback dominatrix, who, not unlike Suzanne over at All Mine, had a submissive husband at home, and a more Alpha lover who ran the City as the classic big fish in a small town, and who also fathered her children?
Or, as she insisted long past Erastus's death, was their relationship purely platonic and political, with the Mayor hanging about simply because hers was the type of "normal" family that he did not have back at his own mansion on the hill?
And what about my own grandmother and Dan, the boss of bosses? Was he really my mother's father, and my purported grandfather the willing "cuck"?
Some family mysteries are more intriguing when left unresolved.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Tool Time
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.
"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."
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