A "Grooming" Dispatch from Our Senior Correspondent

Our staff here at UCTMW went a little wild with the comments yesterday. Maybe it's it's because we are into the 2nd half of the month, and they are worrying that their column inches are a tad low and that somehow the big paycheck I cut for them for June will be a tad short. Regardless, if you missed the WC's musings on his role as an expert Assotologist, you may want to go back a page.


I for one will hold the details on Friday's activities here at the World HQ, because we have this lovely dispatch from Donna on her hippie days, and beyond.


Have a great Father's Day tomorrow all, including you, Bill and WC.Both of you get the day off with the ordinary rate of pay....


Today I have for you some cautionary hair tales. No, not pubic hair, we already talked about shaving versus waxing and screaming. Today’s blog is about some things I have learned about Bill from my hair. I know that sounds strange, but give me a chance here.
When I was in my late teens I used what was then a very popular shampoo, Green Herbal Essence. It was the shampoo of the hippies, you could tell because it had the word herbal in the name and psychedelic designs in the advertisements and on the label. All the girls in my dorm used it.
Bill loved the smell of the Herbal Essence in my long dark hair that I kept in that, oh, so fashionable long shag style all the girls had at that time. You see, in those days our attempts to prove our independence and individuality was somehow couched in all looking alike in our frayed jeans, tie-dyed shirts, and sandals along with flowers in the long hair of both males and females (yes, Bill had long hair, too) and granny glasses, can’t forget those...

But, back to the Herbal Essence story. Many years later I spotted a bottle of that product in a dollar store, probably left over from the 1970s. I was so pleased! I could only imagine how excited Bill would be to have that aroma bring back memories of our hippie days and our wild hippie sexiness. As soon as I got home I washed my hair, and then washed it again just to be certain the aroma would be wafting to my beloved when he arrived home.

When our teens got home from school and started sniffing the air and asking what that stink was in the house, I should have taken that as a hint, but no. Instead, I told them some (non-sexy) stories of our hippie days, they always hated those stories, and as their eyes glazed over I ended my little talk by sharing the story of finding the special shampoo and how I hoped this would remind their father of those happy hippy times. Whether from the aroma of the shampoo or as a result of my stories, the kids rushed to tell me they had plans for dinner and sleepovers with friends or relatives or anyplace but home. Perfect!
When Bill arrived home I cuddled up next to him with my head in a position that assured he would get a snoot full of the aroma of my hair. Well, he did get a snoot full, and then he sneezed several times. He asked what the heck was in my hair and I, in return, still hoping against hope that he would remember, asked him whether that aroma brought anything to mind. He sniffed again, a bit less enthusiastically this time, shook his head, and said those romantic words that have stayed with me all these years, “It sure does, it smells like the flea shampoo we use on Ruffy (our golden retriever). What in the world is that stuff?”
I threw out the shampoo and the incident has become a recurring joke in our house. For many years when something smelled bad, Bill or the kids would ask whether I was trying to take Bill back to his hippy days with the Herbal Essence again.
And now I continue with another tale, more cautionary than the first, that begins with these words of wisdom: Should you notice that your partner seems to be admiring blondes on the computer screen more than brunettes, and you are a brunette, do not rush out to change your hair color without speaking to your partner about the situation.
When I decided that maybe Bill would be turned on if I would go blonde, I called my sister. She is one of those women who has a way with her hair and has been coloring her hair since she was a teenager. I called to ask what I needed to buy to take my hair from its natural dark brown to blonde. She was quite insistent that I should not go blonde, saying it would look like hell. Yes, those were her exact words. Knowing me well, she figured I would do it anyway so she told me to sit tight, she was on her way to pick me up and we were going wig shopping.
We piled into her car, taking along my then teenage daughter. Our daughter is autistic and seldom sees the world from a cheery standpoint, but she is unerring in speaking the truth as she sees it. If you want an honest opinion, she’s your gal. My sister insisted that my daughter would be the judge on how I looked as a blonde because we both knew she wouldn’t pull any punches, and how right my sister was. We went to a high end wig shop where I tried on all shades of blonde wigs. My daughter’s eyes rolled back in her head, she started snapping out the words, “No, no, hell no!” What a terrific time we had, except for that part where I was laughing so hard I almost wet my pants. Even the sales lady laughed until she had to sit down. My sister had been right all along. People with my coloring do look like hell with blonde hair. So I remained a brunette.



After dinner that night I told Bill about my attempt to look more like the women he had been looking at on the computer screen. He just looked at me for a minute and raised one eyebrow. He said that he loved my dark hair and that it wasn’t the blonde hair he was examining on the screen, it was the boobs. He said that I set the standard for big boobs for him and he enjoyed looking at them on the screen and was amazed to see how many are now fake.

The moral of the story here is ask, don’t assume. Or at least that’s what Bill had me repeat as he spanked and spanked my bottom that night for almost going blonde.

Mistress's Generous Offer

It was another day in the cage here on Thursday…. Same “excuse”, not that one is needed… Mistress was leaving a little later, and taking the surly teen #2 to work with her. So Mick had to make sure the cage was in place before leaving for the office solo at my normal time.

One fringe benefit: Mistress had the side advantage of that harder than ordinaire cock, brought on by the tight ring around my cock and balls,  as I took advantage of permission to fuck her yesterday morning.

After work, we took the teen to a new pizza joint in the older part of the city… very urbanista, with a big wood fired oven imported from Naples. Yummy stuff. But our dinner out extended my cage day until around 8 pm…. By then my scrotum was getting a little tender. Mistress was determined to take a bike ride, but she was kind enough to release me first, even before giving me the chance for worship.

On our ride, we talked a bit about her conversations during the day with the WC. It seems his  closest colleague, let’s call him S, is going through an ugly divorce.  The wife is trying to serve him with papers. M has been advising him on how to handle this stress.

“M told S that he just needs to go out and get fucked…. To move on….”

“Sounds like good advice Mistress…. And what did you say….”

“I offered to help. S sounds like a nice guy. I told M I’d be happy to come out for a ‘sympathy fuck’”.

This is a concept we’ve talked about before.  Back in the day when Molly and Mick were ‘dating’ (married to other folks too), she often mentioned that she was tempted to provide a “sympathy fuck” to a mutual friend who had been doggedly coming onto her for some time. A nice guy, but not all that attractive to Molly (at least not nearly as attractive to the more alpha Mick in those days, at least that's what I told myself ).

Mistress never “succumbed” to that particular guy (0r so I am told), but my sense is there were a few notches on her belt, even at the young age of 27 or so, that fell into this category.  Folks that really were not in her “league” but that she dabbled with out of a sense of noblesse oblige? Or maybe just curiosity?

I’m wondering if any of our readers have a comment on this form of social interaction… have you engaged in the “mercy” or “sympathy” fuck…. Or is this just bad behavior? (I suppose it’s something a guy could do too.)

In any event, back you our little dialog.

“And how did M take your generous offer?”

“He didn’t like it at all, Slave….he said if there’s anyone out here you are going to fuck, it will be me.”

I laughed. I knew where this was heading. M can get a little possessive, jealous even, particularly for a guy who has not met his little Molly in the flesh to show her the famous "special occasion cock".

“And you said….”

“That I’d made that offer before, and what had it gotten me so far…. I even told him he could let S know he’s invited to our 4^th of July party at our mountain hideaway…(not too far a drive from Judge Miguel’s ‘county seat’.)

“Oh I’m sure he’ll pass that invitation along….”

“Right. He said that if anyone’s coming it would be him and B….”

“Well they're invited too Mistress….”

By the time we got home, and Slave had showered off, it seemed all this sex talk had us both in the “mood”.

“Why don’t you go insert your little device, Slave… I want a particularly hard cock…”

She meant the aneros, which had not been deployed in a week or so. And it certainly did the trick.

After I used my mouth and lips to bring Mistress to a series of little climaxes, her hips rolling, little gasps of pleasure escaping from her mouth, she teased my work-a-day cock to desperation with those nicely manicured fingers.

Until I was begging to fuck her.

Fortunately, she showed the same mercy to me that she had offered to show S.

As I took my pleasure from her, we revisited her conversation with the WC.

“I suppose if M won’t extend the offer, you could just email S directly, maybe with on of those hot photos.”

“Oh, Slave…. you really are a trouble maker.”

So true….

HNT / Q. and A. with our Senior Correspondent

The rising sun was shining through our bedroom window yesterday morning, and there was my beloved Mistress, lazing across the bed, naked, just waking from her beauty rest.

She confirmed that I would be wearing my cage again for the day – our sullen teen had consented to come down and chill at her office this week as an alternative to hanging around the house solo and therefore we would be driving separately. One can’t expect a teen to get out the door by 8:30 am!

But before I retrieved the steel ring that forms the base of my cage from my sock drawer, I picked up the camera to take a few shots of Molly to share with you. Almost artsy, don’t you think? (She even approved with out any cropping or snipping).

After that, it was a dive between Mistress’s legs, as she read my rather abbreviated post from yesterday. And once she had set aside the laptop and allowed herself a little wakeup cum, she was ready for the main course.

Reaching down to grip my tightly contained cock and balls, she made sure with a few deft strokes that I was properly engorged.

“Why don’t you fuck me now, Slave….”

“Happily, Mistress….”

Afterwards, she made sure my cage was locked tight, then I was off to work, and she was out for an early morning bike ride before having the nerve to wake the teen for a more abbreviated workday.

On my home, I made a call to our Senior Correspondent for a little editorial conference – wondering if I could prompt her for a contribution for me to use later in the week to make up for a little writer’s block.

She had a couple of questions that I answered, and thought I would share both with you:

Q. So, Mick, maybe it’s a little too personal, but doesn’t that cage get uncomfortable in this hot weather….

A. No, not too personal, Donna, since you know all sorts of embarrassing stuff about us already… Here’s the deal. It’s really only uncomfortable in the morning…. That blood gets trapped in my balls on the way to work for some reason, and it gets tight and actually kind of painful… in fact yesterday I was squirming and whining to myself on the drive in, wondering of I could make it through the day…. But it amy be a mind over matter deal. If I can mentally focus and somehow ‘persuade’ the blood vessels down there to relax, then relief is in sight….and once I start walking around in the office, and get distracted by the day’s activities, I can actually forget about it… at least until it’s time to take a leak. But since it seems to make Molly so much more secure, I can’t complain, can I?

Q; You mentioned Molly being insecure the other day. She’s so beautiful. Has a great job and family. What’s to be insecure about?

A. Well ask her about it, but yeah, she can be insecure. I screwed up back in 2008 when we had the whole commuter marriage thing going, and that other woman is still around. I don’t think she really thinks I would ever do that again, but if this makes her feel better, a little more secure, then it’s worth the sacrifice of a little discomfort from time to time. As with so many things, it goes back to her parents… in this case her father. And the whole Contract concept really arose from my desire to make her feel much more secure in our marriage… plus the bonus is that it can be quite a turn on too!

Q. SO what about the orgasm in the cage that Suzanne described the other day involving Tammy…. What’s with that….

A. You got me… no way I can imagine doing that… maybe his cage fits differently. Or his penis really is as small as Suzanne teases him about. (Sorry Tammy…. Maybe you can explain how that works on your blog). Maybe it’s an age thing: He’s a lot younger than me. But there’s no way I could cum in my cage.

As thunder storms began to converge on UCTMW’s branch office down in the Appalachians, we signed off. Soon I was home, where Mistress awaited, already down to the turquoise thong shown in a photo earlier this week. And while we had plans for a bike ride, first things first.

“Would you like some worship, Mistress.”

Because the teen has been coming to her office this week, there has been no time for her to slip away for some office devotions.

“Of course, Slave.”

She slipped out of the thong, slid onto the bed, and tossed a small pillow onto the floor for my aging knees.

As I went to work, a text came from the WC. Mistress was trying to see if there was a way to schedule a brief date with him. And then she had an inspiration.

“Look up, Slave…. I’m sending M a photo.”

She snapped. And then showed me a picture of me looking up, mouth still firmly attached to her clean shaven folds, eyebrows raised in amusement, as if I was at a snooty wine tasting in Bordeaux, sampling an insouciant young red with a bit too much tannin….

M was impressed. But that’s not a photo for HNT….

Day in the Cage

Woke up this morning a little later than normal, fans. So this may be a brief post.  I don’t want my morning window of opportunity to serve Mistress to pass by.

Yesterday, we got back on track with our preferred “two a day” regime. There was some very satisfying morning sex, enhanced by the fact that I had been told to the day would be a “cage” day.  Molly had persuaded surly teen #2 to come spend the day at her office, so they would be leaving a little later, and we would not be carpooling it.

So I knew that meant I’d be in my steel cage for the day.

Which was rather tight and ouchy, if you don’t mind me saying. Over at All Mine yesterday, Suzanne told about the ass fucking she gave Tammy, whilst in his cage, and the “contained” orgasm it produced.

Quite frankly, I can’t even imagine that happening with my cage on. No room to stretch out and express one self for my “work-a-day” cock. But more power to Tammy for “gettin’ ‘er done”.

Of course the bonus for Mistress when the ring is on, but the cage cover is not yet in place, is that she gets the particularly firm cock that is produced by the tight hug of that steel ring surrounding my cock and balls.

“Ohhh…. I do like that, Slave.”

And when Slave finally comes, well, as they say in the Irish Spring commercial, “I like it too.”

I had a meeting after work with some political co-conspirators, and the women of the house stopped on the way home for sushi. So the feeding part of the evening was all taken care of when I arrived home around 7 pm. There was time for some worship, the removal of my cage as a reward for a job well done, then a bike ride as the sun was beginning to go down.

And afterwards: well I was energized from the bike ride, as well as my long day in the cage.  So when Mistress enquired whether I would like to take advantage of my cock’s hard earned freedom, I was more than happy to exercise the privilege.

But only after making sure that Mistress had one of those hip jerking climaxes with the help of my devoted lips and tongue.

Mistress always comes first.