A Tale of Two Cities

Here in River City, things are reliably calm, if a little bland,  this weekend.

The weather is  damp and chill. But the few inches of snow we had last week are long gone.

Last night after work, Mistress and Slave shared some drinks at a local bar with a colleague she wanted me to meet. Someone who found her on Linked In and wants her to get involved in a "start-up" he has imagined. He's a smart but bland fellow, and short. Not Mistress's "type" in a cuckold sort of way.

And the odd part was that he would meet with the two of us only on an evening when his wife was out of town.

"The less she knows about what I'm doing, the better...."

Well that's one approach.  I politely made it clear to this fellow that Mistress has no reason to hide anything from me.

"We've been married a while. And Molly has free range to do whatever she's inclined to do. She doesn't need my permission".

The guy's eyes seemed to open a little wider than normal.  But I'm not sure that he fully understand that what I was conveying was not simply about finance and employment. 

After we finished our beers / wine, Mistress and I headed home.

"So what did you think of him, Slave."

"He's not a total charlatan, Mistress. But he does have delusions of grandeur."

Actually, he seemed like a nice and earnest fellow. But it's obvious he has a crush on Mistress. Shame for him that he's not her "type".

Back at home, we still had time to catch the last episode of Season 2 of Downton Abbey via Hulu.  Mistress is enthralled with this soap opera, circa 1920, featuring a cast of English upper crusters and their servants. Slave is a little less amused, though I do enjoy all of the accents, and the archaic phrasing and social conventions. And when things get a tad too melodramatic, I can always slip to my knees and savor Mistress's clean shaven folds, fully on display and taunting me as she splays across the couch next to me in her short nightie, sans panties.

Yum. 

Bringing Mistress a lovely cum is much more entertaining than yet another round of longing and denial for the luckless Anna and Mr. Bates.

Meanwhile, in Boston and environs, they seem to be in the midst of Snowmageddon. 

We've heard nothing more from the randy cast over at ALL Mine since last evening. But we are deeply concerned. With more than 2 feet of snow overnight, and hurricane force winds, could it be that their power is off? 

If so, how will they post a blog? Or avoid freezing for that matter?

I asked our Director of Security to see if he could hack into the surveillance cams at their Cuckold Compound north of the City, and Bill found some disturbing images for the last 24 hours.

This one appears to show Suzanne surveying her kingdom in the early stages of the storm:

Nice boots. But be careful in that ice. It might not be as firm as it seems. 

But images from later in the evening and this morning raise some concern about the common sense of this trio when confronted with such wintery conditions.  Is this Tammy on "fluffing" duty?

If so, he seems to have lingered a little too long in his task.

And when Jay was finally prepared to deploy the Trophy Cock to please Suzanne.... well, maybe they should have kept the fun inside:

Let's hope they've been gently thawed and survived the night. We don't want them to loose and crucial apendages to frost bite.

Blizzard!

Here in River City we have some Irish weather today.... chilly and damp.  And since Mistress was leaving the house a little later than normal, it gave us some extra time in the warmth of our bed for some slow and lazy wake up sex. It was hard to disentangle myself, but duty called.

But we are deeply concerned about the well being of our friendly competitors in the blog-o-sphere over at All Mine. According to increasingly alarmist weather reports, a blizzard of historic proportions is bearing down on their cozy (if highly secret) hideaway somewhere in scenic New England.

No doubt panic is setting in, as all those reputedly hardy, flinty souls of the Northeast scramble to clear grocery shelves of milk, bread, eggs, and duct tape. I'll bet Tom Brady may be picking up the last available Spanx and ballet slippers at Target even as we speak. And for extra warmth, a certain football coach is desperately looking for a hoodie without the sleeves sliced off.

Of course, anything that happens in the Northeast, with its hyper-active media and chattering classes,  is far more newsworthy than the mundane goings on here in the heartland. Doing a little research, I discovered a whole page of photos on Google images about the "Great Blizzard of 1978". There was even a picture book on the subject.

I can remember the winter of 1978 and a blizzard of seemingly equal "horror" here in River City the week my first daughter was born. We sucked it up and took the bus to work! Can you imagine that?

And Mistress and I hunkered down and through the blizzard of 2012 in Illinois and Indiana a few weeks back in our aging AWD Volvo.

But back to our friends at All Mine, in the eye of the storm. With the snow and wind bearing down on them, I suspect that Tammy, Suzanne, and Jay have taken the day off, and will be hunkering down  until the road crews figure a way to rescue them.

Presuming they want to be rescued.

This would seem like a good time for the three of them to engage in some boundry pushing, don't you think?

In particular, maybe Suzanne should consider exploring what surely must be a secret fantasy of any self-respecting Cuckoldress / Domme: fitting her otherwise Alpha lover Jay with his own chastity device.  With a full weekend with no where to go, what better time to get those tender guy parts accustomed to the friendly confines of a cock cage?

I just wouldn't let him operate a snow blower with one of those infernal devices on just yet, Suzanne. At least not until he gets used to it.

And Suzanne, if you decide to take some time off from deploying Big Blackie for some other spontaneous winter sports, please dress appropriately. We don't want you to catch a chill.

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

Our Senior Correspondent Pitches Concept For Next Year's Super Bowl Ad

Donna, our Senior Correspondent, passed this dispatch along to share with her devoted followers!

 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!