15 Hours to Go...

Here in River City we have a big family wedding on deck this evening.

Seems like it's been years in the making, and Mistress and Slave have been counting the days and months until it's finally over.

It's the sort of event that can drag a whole group of people back into a swirling vortex of memories and  behaviors rooted in the past, and not all of them good. Like a mountain popping up out of the high desert, an event like this can create its own climate. So far its been mild and seasonable. But there is always the chance of a pop up thunderstorm or other hostile weather event. And there may even be some storm chasers on hand to record the event for posterity.

At a  casual gathering after the rehearsal dinner last night, I had one seemingly ancient woman remind me that I used to have a lot more hair, but that I look a lot better without the Fu Manchu mustache and sideburns I wore the last time she saw me. Who is this lady? Turns out she was the sister of my former mother-in-law from a marriage that ended more than 20 years ago.  One was tempted to ask..... why the fuck is she here, or even alive?

Then there was the former sister in law, looking 25 years older and barely recognizable who "greeted" me with the look that still said. "so here's the asshole who had the nerve to dump my sister!"

Mistress is handling the navigation of all my former in-laws with impressive aplomb. There are those who are now pleasant to her, and those who, after all these years, still pretend she is invisible. Thankfully, She is letting it roll off like the beautiful and secure Mistress she is.

And the cute Co-Eds were dressed to their head turning best last night, making us both proud. The older Co-Ed's boyfriend drove into town from upstate NY for the affair, which no doubt made her happy, while once again complicating sleeping arrangements here.

Of course, last night was just a taste of things to come this evening, at a wedding scheduled for the outdoors at a local park in some steamy start of the summer river valley heat.

I'd better get to polishing the details of my toast, and then head upstairs to tend to Mistress's clean shaven folds,  grateful that by 11 pm tonight this will all be over and we can retreat to the relative solitude of the UCTMW World HQ and get back to what we do best....

Spanking in the name of Jesus?

AS predicted, Mistress and Slave have been slogging through a stressful week following our return from our little beach getaway. Work has been demanding, and we've got the much anticipated wedding of my 2nd daughter come Saturday. More on that later this week.... but all the planning, organizing and angst over colliding families and sensibilities makes me recall why our wedding (the 2nd for both of us) organized as a last minute surprise for a select group of family and friends was much more enjoyable than this type of formal set piece.

The saddest part is that Slave had an unscheduled abstinence day yesterday, because I had to get up way to early to drive one of our Co-Ed's guest from across the pond to the airport.  By the time the day came to an end - following dinner here for my getting married daughter and her fiance, Slave was way to fried for any nookie.

Luckily, I'm anticipating getting lucky in just a few short minutes, before we kick it into high gear for another brutally scheduled day.

I did want to leave you with this piece I stumbled on about a couple in a "domestic discipline" relationship who have somehow connected it to a Christian lifestyle. Spanking for Jesus.

Sounds as if these folks are not too far afield from the discipline that Tammy "enjoys" over at All Mine, or that others in the sex blogosphere write about. But instead of lending an erotic charge to their efforts, somehow they've based their use of the spoon, hair brush or palm on some notion that a good Christian woman needs to submit to her husband, and that the husband is free to use those means necessary to enforce that submission. The blog entry I read makes it clear that for these folks, it's not about sex, foreplay, etc. It's just to show who's the boss.

Yuck.

Why do we have to introduce God and mandatory gender stereotypes into what might otherwise have some erotic fizzle? Plus it  seems to remove  the consensual notion of the whole arrangement, which in my mind turns good sexy fun into bad and cruel abuse.

They have a blog, linked in the article, where they purport to explain their lifestyle. Am I missing something here?

Another Rough Day....

Two a Days. Bike ride. Afternoon in bed when the rain rolls in. Then back to the beach for a sunset al fresco dinner. We won't bore you with the details.

Have a good Father's Day, all. I know one pampered house Slave who will!

Corsets, Whips and Whiskey

Mistress and Slave had one of those decadent days that you try to file away in your memory banks to fall back on when the going gets rough, and the stress levels rise.

First there was some robust wake-up sex here in our little hideaway, after Mistress slept in and Slave wrote the blog and brewed some coffee.

Then a long bike ride in bright sunshine and cool temperatures in a gentle breeze coming off the lake. We pedaled through rolling countryside to a perfect little Midwestern town, oozing Americana, for a breakfast of some eggs, hashbrowns and thick, smoky local bacon to die for. (Well the pig died for it. All we got was a little extra cholesterol to work off on the ride back).

But as we left the charming old main street restaurant, with its red white and blue bunting, all decked out for flag day, I noticed this poster for an event we might want to come back for:

Is kink spreading to the heartland faster than we thought?

Once back from our ride,  our mobile offices adjourned to  the beach, where we kept of the pretext of being "connected" to clients and colleagues whole basking in the early summer sun.  It's amazing what you can accomplish with an I-phone and no shame! Although I do wonder whether that one client could hear the sound of the waves in the background.

The sun was in no mood to set anytime soon, but we wandered back to our room at around 6:30 pm in any event, with a little more sunburn than I had hoped for.

After showering off the sand, we slid back under the sheets for another round of nookie, with Mistress riding her cock to a couple of cums before allowing her Slave to indulge himself. It was nice to get back into the ryhthmn of "two a days."

Yesterday Suzanne wondered whether we had packed the cage. Well, no, actually. Mick is like one of those free range chickens this weekend. Since Mistress can keep close watch on her cock, she has dispensed with it's containment device.

Soon we were off to dinner at a little Armenian joint up the highway, still festooned with the T-shirts and bumper stickers touting the immigration status of its owner. Will Ibrahim ever be freed? Tune in again next year.

Not bad for a Friday, particularly when you can look forward to a Saturday when the "mobile offices" can shutdown.

"I could get used to this, Slave...."

No doubt.