Former Lover Check In

Yesterday afternoon we headed home from work a little earlier than normal. But our plans for a pre-dinner bike ride were aborted by a big assed thunderstorm, the forward edge of those storms that have been barreling through Oklahoma and Missouri over the last day.

But that did give Mistress and Slave some time to rest in the "executive Suite" before we took our younger Co-Ed out to dinner at some trendy urbanista taco joint as we had promised.

"Do you mind if I get naked, Slave?"

Now that's a silly question.

"Of course I don't mind, Mistress...."

Just as she was settling down with her laptop next to me on the bed, her I-phone gave off that little buzz. Mistress seemed tempted to ignore it all together, but then she noticed who was calling.

"It's David....wonder what he wants?"

(David, as some loyal readers may recall was one of Mistress's "cougar week" lovers, last fall. He's the guy with the tatoos who lives in our older Co-Eds campus town, about an hour away. Tatoos. Compelling sex. But... a somewhat sketchy background that made Mistress a little cock-shy, shall we say.)

Mistress was curious, so picked up the phone.

Slave could only hear one side of the conversation of course.  But the gist seemed to be... "Hey, I'm coming to town this weekend, want to get together?"

Mistress's tone was sly and seduction in explaining... "Well.... unfortunately I've got a full house this weekend.... two kids back from college.... but maybe we should find another way to get together again soon...."

After she hung up, she commented that he probably wanted to spend the night here while going to some event in the City.

"It would be a convenient crash pad for him, Mistress.... but for our young and curious girls... might be a little hard to explain who the 30 something guy with the tatoos is that was sharing your bed."

But at least David's call gave Mistress a little something extra to fantasize about as I proceeded to worship those lush clean shaven folds.

Boring?

Mistress and Slave have been pretty busy this week, though we've kept up our regular wake-up sex, with an evening worship chaser for Mistress. Yeah... you've heard it all before. Last night Slave was privileged to taste those sultry and salty clean shaven folds after an after work bike ride in the early summer River City heat.  Yum.

Sadly, we've had to tone things down with the two Co-Eds home from college.

But here's something that caught my eye and is worth sharing. A Washington Post reporter is soliciting comments on whether women find monogamous sex boring. Here's the link Is Monogamous Sex Boring for Women?

There's even a little story about how some female spiders are more interested in sex with a new partner after 90 minutes, than with the "guy" they just did it with.  So, stripping about social conventions and economic dependency, are babes just as interested in multiple partners as "sowing their wild oats" men are supposed to be?

The writer is looking for comments.

I'm wondering if those of you involved in hot cuckoldy relationships will give her some scorching perspective.

Wouldn't you just hate to make the Washington Post blush?

Mistress's Latest Admirer

If you hadn't noticed, Mistress has taken a bit of an hiatus on her quest for a "side-dish" - someone to supplement her work-day cock and add a little cuckold spice to our adventures here at UCTMW.  The kids are home, cramping our style, and the pickings at Ashley Madison were particularly thin during her last foray there this spring.

She had me shut down her AM account when the empty nest was re-infested a few weeks back, and concluded she may be stuck with just me for a while, or hope that someone catches her eye the old fashioned, off-line way.

But yesterday... we decided to take the girls over to some friends' home in the City. The weather was finally warming up after several days of chill, and their backyard pool - complete with a full service bar - was open for business. We were even greeted by a new and unexpected member of the household who took a quick shine to Mistress, who was decked out in that hot bikini she acquired for her recent trip to the Islands.

No sooner had she splayed herself on the deck to pick up some supplemental rays, he decided to join her. At this point I'll simply share the photo I took:

When she saw me snapping the photo, Mistress was very specific.

"I don't want to see that posted on facebook.... all our 'friends' don't want to see my ass...."

"Don't worry, dear.... it's not going to facebook."

Of course, I made no promises in front of our friends about posting it to a certain secret sex blog.

A Roll Through the Past

Here is a surprise: Mistress and Slave skipped their Sunday morning Wake-Up sex yesterday - well Slave's was skipped, but I did do some early morning worship - all because we were heading out for a 32 mile urban bike tour through River City. It was one of those large group events for a good cause, that had a bunch of (mostly) white yuppies of various ages, dressed in shiny bright shirts and black tights or shorts,  annoying  Sunday morning church goers as we monopolized a lane of traffic.

We started not far from our inner ring suburban home, winding down into the City, over the River, then back across again. And in the process we passed by some landmarks of our romantic/scandalous past.

On our left, just before entering a large City park overlooking the big river was that old, otherwise nondescript office building where Mistress and Slave first started throwing off sparks. It was the 1988 primary HQ of a certain Greek Governor of a New England state, where Mistress and Slave spent some late evening hours plotting his "stunning victory" over the remaining "dwarfs" of a rather humdrum field of candidates.

Mistress was 25. Slave was 38. Now that I have daughters older than she was at the time, It (almost) embarrasses me to consider that I had trouble keeping my fingers off of her, as we got to know one another better in the pot boiler of Presidential politics. I do recall one evening, as we sat around the table with some staffers and volunteers finding myself standing behind her as she sat there, all perky  and engaged. Did I really start massaging her shoulders, to help relieve the "tension" of the moment.

And who's tension was I relieving?

Pathetic, I know.  I was lucky she didn't accuse me of sexual harassment. Or slap me and call me a dirty old man.

Later, after we crossed over the River and back again, we rolled through our downtown, streets clogged and blocked off for the big kick-off-the-summer food festival. 

"There's our old love nest, Slave....."

Ah yes, the otherwise nondescript apartment building. After a few months of renting hotel rooms, or "borrowing" my father's unoccupied condo for some private time together, we rented a little efficiency apartment downtown, a few blocks from my office.

We spent more than a few torrid lunch hours - well more than an hour certainly - on a futon purchased at one of those funky import stores. Mistress would usually pick up lunch for us. She sometimes ended up tied to the four corners of the futon as I had my way with her delicious 20 something body.

It's hard to imagine we got away with all that, since we were both married to other people at the time.

The absence of cell phones surely helped.

And don't worry, followers, Mistress did not require Slave to wear his cage on that long three hour ride. If I had, what good would I have been to her once the ride was over?