Empty Nest Interruptus

Mistress and Slave were at our pool - catching some rays on one of the final weekends of our summer - when Mistress got a text from our young grad.

"Good news  slave - she's going up to campus to visit the boyfriend. won't be back until tomorrow!"

The boyfriend has a final semester to finish before graduation. He went back to their leafy idyllic campus this week.  The cute grad has been lurking around the house in a sulk since he left. So, finally, it seems he'd ask her to come up for a "visit".

Both of our eyes lit up. And while we suppressed the fist bumps because a friend was sitting nearby, I'm sure we were both of the same mind --- an opportunity for a little loud and proud sex in our re-emtped nest!

Soone we were making our excuses to go home. We showered together and were soon in the bed in the UCTMW Executive Suite.  Mistress caught up on some reading, enjoying the adventures of both the Married Sissy and the Cuckolder, as I lavished her with attention via my eager lips and tongues.
 (Marc- as predicted, she did express a little shock when you mentioned the sandals. Mistress has a thing about ugly male toes, but then maybe you get pedicures?)

Once Mistress had her starter cum - a little amuse boche so to speak - we moved onto the starter: Mistress rode slave's cock to a couple of more cums, with her moans of delight fully expressed and our doors wide open.

Hopefully that cats were not shocked.

Once Mistress exhausted herself in the superior position, it was time for slave's own "main course".
I switched positions with her into the well worn but reliable "missionary" position, and was enjoying my "free range slave" privileges of building to a crescendo that inevitably lead to my own orgasmic release.

That is unless Mistress's I-phone began chiming.

Which of course it did, just at the very worst moment.

Distracted, Mistress looked over to the screen on her phone, sitting on a little bedside table.

"It's [our daughter], slave.... I'd better get it."

Slave pulled his mental emergency brake, just as his train was about to go over the cliff. Fortunately, it was still in working order.

My momentum fully arrested, I rested on my elbows above Mistress as she chatted briefly with our daughter....

"Yes, honey.... I understand..... see you in a while....."

By the time she hung up I figured the news was not good. And of course, Mistress's work-a-day cock was in "parade rest" mode.

"The boyfriend's not feeling well, slave.... so they're coming back here rather than stay for the party his roommates are throwing."

I guess I should have been annoyed that the boyfriend only called her to come up because he was in need of a nursemaid.  But what really annoyed both of us was that our "empty nest" weekend had suddenly gone kaput.   Dang. That put the kabosh on those "switch day" plans that had been bubbling in my head.

But at least we had at least 45 more minutes to finish what we had started. Once Mistress applied those sensuous lips to their restorative task, it didn't take nearly that long to finish what we had started!

Ashley Madison Meltdown

Mistress and Slave exploited one of the last Friday evenings of our River City summer last night - we both skipped away from work early to meet at the swim club. Slave slid a couple of bottles of wine into my back pack. Sitting at a corner of the pool deck, we sipped wine and read as the warm sun slowly sank into a beautiful sunset.

It was a nice way to end the week.

But of course some folks' week was not as enjoyable.  I'm thinking of all those celebrities, politicians and government employees outed this week when the Ashley Madison hackers did their big data dump.  No wonder the stock market crashed! There were probably more than a few horny hedge fund managers liquidating their accounts and packing their bags to stay one step ahead of an angry spouse or a reporter from Buzz Feed.  This headline from AM's home town paper in Toronto captures the panic:
 

EXCLUSIVE: Hollywood actor, NFL star and a top politician are among celebrities 'frantically calling up expensive damage limitation experts over the Ashley Madison hack'

• Celebrities are 'desperately' calling up experts to help them manage their reputations following Ashley Madison leak, Daily Mail Online can reveal
• These include actor from a recent Hollywood action film, top NFL player, reality TV star, well-known Southern politician and a Coca Cola executive
• Stars worry being publicly outed as cheats will destroy their reputations
• One company, Reputation Management Consultants, has received record number of calls from celebrities panicking about the hack and data leak
• One 'was so scared of his marriage falling apart he cried for five minutes'
• Another feared family would actually kill him if they found out, it is said
• Firm charges clients between $10,000 and $100,000 a month for service
• But CEO said some celebrities used unknown emails to set up accounts - and did not use their names/credit cards - so may never been found out
• Data shared online by hackers lists the name, home address, IP address, credit card details, and email address of paying Ashley Madison users  
•  
  At least all those “reputation management” experts will have a little extra income in the next few months as they cook up narratives to explain why all those actors, jocks and politicians had trouble finding babes the old fashioned way.
  
  
   It got Mistress and slave chuckling about the local museum director who popped up on her AM account a few years back: The guy who comes off like the combination of a Presbyterian Minister and Funeral Director in public, but apparently has a wilder side. Or wants to have a wilder side.
  
  
  I liked the story about the State GOP Chair from Louisiana, who admitted he had an AM account, but said it was purely to conduct “opposition research”. Was he trying to set a honey trap for Mary Landrieu?
  
  
  Then there was the Reality TV holier than thou Christian conservative megastar, Josh Duggars, who had to admit he had his own AM account.  I'm shocked. Shocked. Will the Duck Dynasty guys show up next?
  
  
  As a prophylactic measure, Slave did check our own email accounts on one of the web sites that popped up this week to let the curious (or worried spouses) check to see who was using AM.  I did find that no name gmail account we have used there. But not our individual accounts.  Hopefully that means we’ve dodged any embarrassing bullets.  But Mistress, who is a bit of a “reputation manager” in her own right, has already worked up a plan:
  
  
  “If anyone says I’ve been on AM, we can just say that you and I did it jointly, as a prank to see who was on there and using it …. it was just marital fun!”
  
  
  “And for the most part, that’s true, Mistress…. We were getting laughs out of all those horny suburban guys in boring marriages, trolling for a little side-dish nookie.”
  
  
  The sad part is that the age of AM, or any other internet “hook-up” sites,  is now clearly over. I suppose Cuckold match-making will have to go back to the agrarian age – maybe Mistress can start meeting buff farmers at barn raisings!
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Mistress's Double Date Wednesday

I think Mistress was a little frustrated by the end of the day yesterday.  She spent time with her first string and relief lovers, but had to rely on her slave for any sexual satisfaction.

First, there was a lunch date with her lover Jay.

Mistress called me on her way to the restaurant where they planned to meet.

"Am I slutty to say I'd rather be having sex with him than lunch, slave?"

"Of course not Mistress....."

Jay's has had some distractions and scheduling issues of late: a special needs kid at home, and a health crisis for a parent. Serious stuff that makes it hard for him to break free for some quality time.

Mistress gave me a report afterwards.

"I told him it's nice to see him over sushi, but it would be better to see him naked...."

"What did he say, Mistress?"

"He said he misses it too, but that he's not had the time he needs to have sex with me.... he does take a long time once we get going......"

This conversation was as Mistress was driving over to a neighborhood watering hole where she was meeting her back up lover K for a drink. 

K is certainly not a particularly reliable back-up. While Mistress finds his looks and "talents" appealing, the major problem is that our daughter is home these days, making it hard to arrange some time together for one of his "house calls".

"We had a nice time, slave.... but no action. Does that disappoint you?"

She shared this when I got home from work. Mistress was already in our bed for a pre-dinner rest, in a cute black nightie.

"No Mistress. I'm not disappointed at all.  But maybe I can offer some consolation?"

At least she had her slave and his devoted tongue and lips to provide some much needed relief after two unfullfiling encounters with her side dishes.

The Ultimate Pegging

Slave was sexually out of commission from Monday afternoon through Tuesday because I finally succumbed to the nagging of my MD and got that dreaded colonoscopy he'd said was my due ever since I hit 50.

As someone who has bent over and taken Mistress's strap-on  over the years, I suppose it should not have been something I shunned for so long. Mistress has had hers over the years.  Maybe it was watching her do the dreaded prep -- 36 hours of fasting and drinking a foul beverage to facilitate the total evacuation of the area to be plumbed.

Rest assured that while I was going through my little ordeal I tried my best to keep up with my slave duties: Mistress got some worship Monday evening and yesterday morning before she accompanied me to the MD's office.  Although, sadly,  she was denied the services of her work-a-day cock while my "prep" was underway.

Mistress accompanied me to my appointment, which was at a "surgery center" in a sleazy strip mall in a declining part of town.  Not real confidence building.

I had been told to bring a photo ID along with my insurance card.  Which brought one thought to mind: Do people send "ringers' to take their colonoscopies for them?  Like a student who gets some braniac to take the SAT for him?  And Why hadn't I thought of that.

As it turns out, the prep was much worse than the procedure. The last thing I remember was the nurse anesthesiologist chatting me up by testing me  with clever Latin phrases he learned at a Jesuit High School in Philadelphia. I never did see the actual device that found it's way up my back channel:

Then I woke up - I guess 30 minutes later - with the pleasant nurse offering me a coke, and, for some unknown reason, "I Left my Heart in San Francisco" running through my head.

If the Doctor asked himself that dreaded question _ "Hmmmm..... has something else been up here lately?", he didn't mention it to me.

Mistress was waiting for me in the reception area, told me I had "passed" the test, according to the MD, and drove me home.

So for all of you putting this off as I did, my advice after this experience: man up. It's not so bad.

Now, back to our regular programming.

BTW, Mistress has a meet up with her back-up lover K for a drink this evening.

"If you ride your bike to work slave, and it rains, you'll have to find your own way home."

Understood, Mistress.