Tuckered Temptress

When I got home from work yesterday evening, Mistress was tucked under the covers.

"I'm tired Slave....."

Apparently it had been a taxing day. Mistress seemed to be in that "rode hard, put away wet" state that follows an afternoon of excess, though nicely decorated in a  turquoise and black nighty I had gifted her for Christmas.

Yes, K had made it, as she had informed me via a very distracting text message when I was in a tedious lunch time meeting.

"So how did it go, Mistress?", I asked as I was shedding my work costume.

"It was good Slave.... very good..... if a little exhausting....he just never seems to stop...."

I took this  photo of Mistress as she lay before me, to share with our devoted readers, then descended to my knees, to worship at a well utilized altar of delight, while asking for a little more detail."

"After I got home from spinning and showered, I decided there was no point in getting dressed again.... she he was greeted at the door with me in this, Slave....", indicating said turquoise and black nighty, which scarcely covers Mistress's bottom.

"Hmmmm..... any undies, Mistress?"

"What would have been the point, Slave?"

"Was he pleased with your look, Mistress...."

"Oh yes.... he wondered if I traipsed around the house like this all the time...."

"I can vouch for that....."

"That's what I told him Slave..... he asked whether you got to grope me when I was so slightly covered...."

By now my wind was focused on him doing the groping, which I suspect happened right after the front door was closed.

"Did you tell him about how I get to access the folds while we watch TV, Mistress...."

"I think he got the message, Slave...."

Said folds were a bit salty, and warm from overuse, but I did my best to sooth Mistress to one final cum of the day, then settled next to her, knowing that it would be too taxing to expect anything more until morning for me. But I was still a bit curious about how things unwound here in our bed at lunch time.

"So what did you do, Mistress.... how long did all this go on?

"I'd say about an hour and fifteen, Slave.... he likes all those crazy positions... and spent a lot of time with his mouth on me too."

"And did you suck his cock, Mistress?"

"Well of course I did, Slave.... but not for too long.... he was so anxious to fuck me."

K is in his early 40's. So he "bounces back" faster than us old farts. Mistress confirmed that he came twice through the course of their "nooner", and Mistress clearly was feeling the effects of all that action, on top of her mid-week afternoon diversion with Jay.

"I think I need a pre-dinner Nap, Slave."

I completely understood.

Week Ending Treat

When it comes to cuckolding, it can be famine or feast.

Poor Mistress had gone several weeks without any sexual variety, relying instead on the ministrations of her lowly slave and his work-a-day cock.

Then the famine ended Wednesday with some epic and certainly more athletic sexual stylings with her lover Jay.

But wait. There's more.

Mistress informed me earlier this week that's she'd heard from K, her side-side dish. He seems to come and go, apparently waiting until his own need for a little but of Mistress's magic becomes unbearable.

"He was rolling out some interesting scenarios by text this week slave.... something about coming over here in the morning right after you're done fucking me.... I think he's into the concept of 'horny Molly who just can't get enough'...."

"Well there is some truth to that, Mistress...."

As it turns out, Mistress has invited K over for a little lunch time distraction today, after she goes to her morning spinning class. K may not get the "freshly fucked Molly". But I guess he could get the salty and tangy Molly if she doesn't take a shower first.

Meanwhile, Slave will be off at work, a bit distracted about what Mistress is up to back in our bed.

It is a good way to start the weekend.

"Epic" Cuckoldry

Slave was at work, my cock languishing in it's cage, when Mistress called from her car at around 3 pm. Out my window the snow had begun falling with a vengeance.

She got to the point quickly.

"It was epic, Slave."

Of course she was referring to her much delayed rendezvous with her lover, Jay. Fortunately, the snow had delayed just long enough for the two of them to squeeze in some "fun and games" before Jay's son's early dismissal from school. 

By the time I got home, the snow was falling hard, filling in the blank spaces in our yard where the snow had finally begun melting yesterday morning.

I found Mistress in bed, already in a sexy nighty. 

She'd had a busy day, after all.

She generously unlocked her slave's cage, springing me loose after a long day on lockdown. Then she directed me to get on task.  I was happy to kneel at the side of the bed, and use my lips and tongue to salve those well used clean shaven folds. But first I asked her to give me a "read out" on her lunch time adventures.

"Jay's so buff and fit these days, Slave.... so it was all a little wild.... him lifting me up, fucking me at the side of the bed, me riding his cock.... he thinks missionary style is kind of boring...."

"Variety is good for you Mistress....."

"It definitely is, Slave...."

As Mistress came to a kinder, gentler cum in response to my worship, she asked "do I taste differently, Slave?"

"Hmmmm..... definitely, Mistress.... a little creamier....it's obvious you've been up to something...."

"I suppose I have, Slave....."

Dear Mick and Molly . . .

It’s Wednesday again, and like last Wednesday, Slave is “cage ready” and Mistress is planning on some mid-day delight with her lover Jay.

Of course, last week things went awry. The heater repair guys dawdled, and poor Mistress was denied her the all access pass to her side dish, failing to break a long draught. She came home very frustrated.

Now, a week later,  both of their calendars have cleared again, but the weather report is ominous. It’s raining here now, but the doomsayers on the TV are predicting another big snow storm this afternoon.

Will Mistress make it to Jay’s?  

Will she get snowed in with him?

If so, will Slave be stuck in his cage overnight if the weather forces them to  go into overtime?

Tune in here in here tomorrow for an update.

But today’s blog is really about a chance for Slave to kibbitz on another one of those advice columnists who just doesn’t get it. You know the drill: silly request for sex advice, to which Mick and Molly provide a more frank and  nuanced response. This one comes from the Washington Post:

Q. Am I a Prude?: I’ve been married happily for more than a decade and my husband and I are in our 30s with young children. We have an active bedroom life, and work together to keep our relationship and love life intact. My husband likes sexting (what man doesn’t?) and I usually don’t. I have to be in the right mood for it, and usually during the day I’m busy with work, errands, etc. I’m uncomfortable sending pictures of myself or saying things I’m not really thinking or feeling. I do indulge when I’m in the right mood, but most of the time when he asks, I just don’t want to! Recently, in a text conversation, he hinted toward it, I changed the topic (my gentle letdown tactic), he asked outright, and I told him to stop pressuring me. He said he didn’t like being accused of pressuring me, and we argued. Is this something I should do as part of my “wifely duties” even though I don’t want to? Is there any way to feel less resentful about it?

Dear Sexted-a-lot:

Well this is one of those first world problems, isn’t it? 

You’re grumpy because your husband of more than a decade still pines for you so much that he wants to telegraph his lust for you , despite  the distractions of his busy work day.  Would you rather get his textual come-ons yourself, or have him discharge his sexual energy on some cutie at work? Maybe you’d prefer him wanking off to sex-blogs like ours? With the threat of censorship lifted, maybe we can post a few more hot photos of Mistress to keep him off your screen.

Wait. Let us guess – you work for Google?

Believe me it could be worse. Mistress not only gets the occasional illustrated sexts from her caged slave, but has to deal with phone calls from Jay, enticing text messages from her side-side dish K, and those facebook messages from her old college lover, begging for revealing photos so he can rekindle old pre-cyber flames.  Somehow she manages to overcome those distractions and get her work done. A little cyber-foreplay can prime the pump for some hands-on action when the dust settles at the end of the day.

If you’d rather dodge your husband’s randy workday missives, maybe you can persuade one of your less busy lady friends to act as your ghost writer. She might actually enjoy it!

But otherwise, buck up, lady. Sometimes you have to take one for the team!

Molly and Mick

Just in case you wanted to know how The Post’s “Prudence” answered this letter, here is her response:

A: For some people one of the pleasures of sex is not having to form coherent sentences. Also, since most of us are bombarded all day with electronic communications, getting demands to write sexy texts, or send risqué photos while at work or at the grocery store, is not an erotic enterprise. You two need to talk this out—and not right after having a spat about it. Tell your husband you want to accommodate his sexual desires, but sex is a mutual enterprise and for you, his enjoyment of sexting feels burdensome, not stimulating. There’s also the issue of your not wanting to get caught doing things during work that could compromise your employment—which also goes for your husband. You both need to understand and accept each other without pressure or resentment, and I hope your husband can openly and sensitively hear you out. (And he better not threaten to take his sexting needs elsewhere!) In any case, if there isn’t an app for this there should be, something with canned phrases (“I can’t wait to get home and see you standing at attention, you big, big …”) you can generate while standing in the check-out line.