Mistress Toes the Line

I am now on my fifth night solo here at the UCTMW World HQ, not quite mid-way through Mistress’s pilgrimage through Eastern Europe. And while the sullen teens have been keeping their distance from their tedious old dad, it’s been nice to have all of your supportive comments,  emails and even a few texts from the WC.

And of course Mistress has also been kind enough to call, text and email. I think she misses me almost as much as I miss her. And I am starting to feel a little sorry for her poor nipples. Somehow, she keeps calling “heads”, and the WC keeps flipping the coin and coming up with tails. And you can see from the photo at the top of the blog that Mistress has been very honorable in following the rules that M has laid down for her.

“I told him it seems very unfair, Slave, and that my nipples are very tender now.”

“But you must feel compelled Mistress…. To honor his rules.”

“I suppose I do, Slave….”

She does obey pretty well, M. When I talked to her tonight, she was planning to adjourn to the Loo with her clothespins in hand, for those mandatory three cums.

No wonder she seems to be sleeping well.

Of course, with the help of Donna and M, I’ve had a little help providing blog fodder, and the comments section has been particularly robust.

So, Aisha, in response to your question yesterday, I have been keeping things together here with out much trouble. Though today I had an unusual amount of “field Slave” work, including too much time on my knees and stooped, resetting some outdoor tiles with help from a neighbor. If I have to go down on my knees, I’d much rather be doing it worshiping Mistress.

Of course, when she heard my comment to that effect yesterday, Donna had to taunt her Executive Editor a little bit, sending me the following photo.

I must say, it did make my mouth water, and not because I have a sweet tooth. It made me realize how much I miss chowing down on Mistress fragrant and delicious folds.

Of course, Mistress laid out her own rules for me. I’m to wear the cage whenever I leave the house, something that got a little uncomfortable with all that kneeling and crouching down today. And I also have been required to “take matters into my own hands” daily, and report back to Mistress on what was going through her Slave’s mind as he “got himself off”.

It’s an unfamiliar “discipline” for me. When she is in town, Mistress applies a very strict “no touch without permission” rule, that is a feature of our contract. And since we do have sex with a rather incredible degree of frequency, it’s not that I have some need that Mistress does not more than amply fulfill. After all, at 60, once or twice a day is ample release of Mick’s natural juices. (Unlike the uber-dude WC, who seems to get a  little antsy when he dips below three or four a days).

I feel a little guilty, and certainly indulged, when I think of poor Tammy and others out there in blog land who get multi-day (or week) stretches of chastity, even when their Domme’s (or wives) are sharing the same bed with them.

But I suspect there is method to Mistress's  “madness” when it comes to keeping Mick’s wok-a-day cock well exercised. It certainly keeps me content and limits any impulse to “go astray”, something that Mistress needlessly worries about. And I suppose it does keep my components at a productive operating level, ready to assume their duties in full once Mistress is back here in River City.

It will be a particularly unusual to be here alone in the Executive Suite tomorrow, our usual Switch Day. I suspect when my own tool gets put to work tomorrow morning, my mind will go back and consider some of our more intriguing Switch Days. Like the one shown below, when Mistress was bound to her desk downstairs, and I gave her a good sound hand spanking before sliding my cock into her from behind.

Then there was this little session, when Mistress got a nice firm cropping before she was forced to her knees to suck her work-a-day cock.

I hope she has a chance to see the photos tomorrow, and consider what waits her next Sunday.

It will be a very special Mother’s Day, Mistress.

Our Western Correspondent Shares Some History

Mistress and her entourage were driven from Warsaw to Lodz today, and apparently their driver was interested in ramping it up in the customer service department. Mistress teased out the details first in a text that popped up mid-afternoon here:

“Our driver is pretty hot, Slave.”


“Maybe he’ll introduce you to one of those famous polish sausages, Mistress.”

Later she shared via phone some of the details.

“When I was standing alone in the lobby of the hotel …. He said I should program his number in my phone, Slave… in case I needed something later on.”

“And did you, Mistress?”

“Well, of course…. You never know what might pop up.”

It turns out his name is “Merrick”…. Very Ann Rice-ish. He’ll be with our journeying Americans for a few days. And it certainly has me wondering whether he will help Mistress overcome the absence of my cock after several days of separation.

Of course, the training regime that had been dictated for Mistress by the WC should be taking some of the edge off. It’s fortunate that at her trendy hotel suite in Lodz, Mistress now has a little more privacy.

She has her own room, and a fancy shower to go with the bidet in her own loo. She sent me this photo right after she checked in, with the heading “Satan’s den.”

Wish I was there with you Mistress, to use that other plush robe, and worship in the manner to which you’ve become asccustomed!

That privacy apparently came in handy, because Mistress lost the coin toss for a second day in a row… (the deck may be stacked, since the WC reports the toss results, sight unseen). That meant there were clothespins clipped to her tenderized nipples as she got herself off three times in a row before heading to bed.




While Mistress is off on her little foreign junket, Her Slave and Personal Trainer are hard at work, though we have had a chance to talk and trade texts a bit this week, sort of a two person support group, feeling a need to lean on one another  while the object of our affections is several thousand miles away and 6 hours ahead of us.

But the WC did tell me that Mistress texted him a shot of her breasts with the clothespins attached from her private session this evening. I’m hoping that Mistress can pass that photo onto me too, if only so that our devoted readers can get a glimpse.

And now we have a real treat for you.

The WC must be feeling sorry for Mick, with all these column inches to fill, and not much “action” to report. So I found the following in the UCTMW in box from out West:

“Here are some column inches if you want to use them, Mick.

In order to justify my little ski shack on the slopes of Vail, aka the house that Mick built, and my lavish salary, here are a few tidbits from the life of Mr. and Ms. WC.

When we first met in the 90's, we were already kinksters. We attended a couple of Shadow Lane spanking parties in California. Shadow Lane is owned by a very nice lady name Eve Howard, who produces spanking porn. Check it out on the internets, as GWB would say.

One party was in LA and the other in Palm Springs, both at very nice hotels. For two days bottoms were spanked and other general debauchery ensued. As LA was the porn capital of the world, quite a few of the attendees were porn actors. Very hot looking people as a whole. B and I met and played with Jennifer Brooks, a blonde spanking actress of some fame. In general the parties were very fun and they still host them, but now they are in Vegas. I would recommend them.

Mr. and Ms. WC also like to go to naked resorts. We have been to ones in Palm Springs, Colorado and Florida. However the best was the Hedonism II in Jamaica. Holy shit! There were beautiful people fucking all over the place!

A very, very cool resort that I highly recommend! They have a thing there once a year called Kink in the Caribbean, that I'm sure some of Mick's readers would enjoy. NO, I think that all of Mick's Readers would enjoy!!!

That would be the time and place for all the kinky bloggers to meet!

However, even at the Hedonism resort they didn't have Bidets. But they did have a swim up bar in the pool and several hundred naked lunatics. Was too much fun.

Well Mick now I have to get back up to my little ski shack on the slopes of Vail, and get the mountain bikes and kayaks ready for the summer.

The heading for Vail,

WC/PTTTCEO”

Thank you, WC. And it was nice of you to toss in a shot of your Brother too. I know some of our readers are fascinated by his unique techniques.

From Our Senior Correspondent : Advanced Sexual Posturing

It was a busy day and late night here in River City,  No, this is not a "cat's away" scenario. I took the sullen teens and their macho cousin to the "draft party" for our River City Pussy Cats .... got to see the locker room and walk the field, much to their amusement.  Then attended a rather late night indie rock concert with an old friend, who's sun is a savage lead guitar player.  

Mistress is probably waking up as I am getting ready to hit the sheets. the time shift makes it hard for us to talk.  I miss her warm and cuddly body next to mine, with or without the other "perqs".

But the big surprise in my in-box was the following contribution from Donna, which means I can sleep in a bit rather than worrying about entertaining all of you members of the UCTMW community.  Enjoy!

 

With Mick and Molly’s interest in the position Bill and I call Reverse Cowgirl or Amazon Woman, I thought it might be fun to explore a couple of other positions that we enjoy. So with some illustrations and vanilla definitions from wordiQ.com and a bit more kinky input on the positions from yours truly, here we go.

http://www.wordiq.com/definition/Image:Deckchair_sex_position.jpg

Deckchair position, sometimes called Squashing of the Deckchair (for obvious reasons) has the woman on bottom, legs pulled up; man on top, holding woman's legs up or trapping them under his arms.

Donna’s Notes: Bill begins by using the under the bed restraint system and cuffs my arms straight out across the bed. He then adds a harness with straps that run from my ankles to my arms, making it easier for my legs to stay in position. At that point he might or might not add a blindfold and might or might not lube me up and add a vibrating butt plug, depending on his choice of orifice.

Something Bill likes about this position is that he can be balanced on one hand and have the other one free for whatever kind of breast work he wants for the occasion. I like it because of the feeling I get when Bill is totally in control. I am there just feeling and trusting, There are the hard textures of the restraints, the soft material of the blindfold, the stretchy straps of the harness, the sting of the nipple clams, the cooling lube and then…anticipation…listening…just being still…and then the drama of passion and the pleasure/pain mix followed by the effort behind remembering how to speak so I can ask permission to come. It’s a great position.

http://www.wordiq.com/definition/Image:Doggy_Sex_Position-small.png

Leapfrog, variant on the Doggy position, so the man is behind; woman facing down with her torso lower; also known as "face down- ass up".

Donna’s Notes: Bill is a spanking sort of guy, so this butt up position is one he particularly enjoys. I can often tell when this is on the menu for the evening because he likes for me to start out with a red rump. When there is a day that I have said a number of things he usually corrects with a swat, but he just holds up the appropriate number of fingers to let me know how many swats I have earned, I can pretty well guess that we are headed for Leapfrog.

Since he can’t easily see my face in this position, Bill usually orients the scene with my head turned toward the mirror so he can pay attention to some of my more subtle clues. He places a wedge ramp on the bed and positions me face down with my rump on the highest part of the ramp, fastening my arms to the cuffs that are attached to the sides of the ramp. He then uses a paddle, strop or whatever his swatter of choice is that day and applies the implement to my butt for the required number of strokes while I count them out loud. He usually adds a couple extra for what he calls “good measure”. And just so you know, losing count or skipping a number means he has to start all over again.

He cools the ouch by rubbing my checks gently with the palm of his hands until he feels I have settled and we move on to part two, which I consider to be the really good part. His version of Leapfrog is fairly straight-forward except, perhaps, for the additional swats from his hand to my already red backside and the fact that I am restrained. And then there are those times that he reaches under the bed to pull out the Hitachi and buzzes and swats me at the same time. Or maybe the fact that I scream his name should be factored in, too.

So you can see, much like an ice cream sundae, you can start with something rather vanilla and add the sauces, sprinkles and toppings to make it into something really special. Except for the cherry, I lost mine some time back.

Donna, that makes me want to slide out of my sad and lonely bed, and see if the teens have consumed all the ice cream from our family dinner on Sunday night.

 

Now if we could only get Suzanne to do one of these drawing depicting that interesting three way over at All Mine Wednesday evening, involving Jay's real cock in one orifice, while Tammy used the back door with that face gag / butt plug.  I still can't figure out the physics of that one.

Mistress Meets the "Charmer"

Mistress is now safely tucked away in her hotel in Warsaw, the first stop on what should be a fascinating trip reconnecting with her family’s cultural and historic roots.

We talked several times after she settled into her hotel. And she emailed me this photo she took from the sidewalk. When she called later, she shared a bit of the hotel’s history.

“Our guide says it was Gestapo Headquarters here during the war.”

Chilling.

But then M had his own speculation on this macabre coincidence, texting me while I was chowing down at Chipotle with sullen teen #2.

“Hey Mick, I wonder if that hotel has a dungeon?”

Somehow I doubt Mistress will be poking around looking for it. ( I note that sometime in the middle of the night, Mistress must have gotten up and wandered to the Hotel Biz Center and posted a lengthy comment to yesterday's blog. You may want to check it out, since she reports on how she followed the WC's rules and other matters.)

But this is a sex blog, (at least we started out that way), and I can’t forget my obligation to appeal to your prurient interest, as well as any curiosity about Mistress’s itinerary.

Some have speculated that I can’t keep the “hotness” coming with Mistress  abroad. I suspect the skeptics may be right…. I may have to rely on re-runs or go on hiatus before my 11 days of lonely are over.

And I am hoping Donna and the WC can help pick up the slack.

But I have saved a bit of recent concupiscence for today, namely our product review of a new sex toy sent to us by the lovely Kayla at EdenFantasies.com.

Donna and Bill had gotten the first crack at the shameless promotion offer made to us by Kayla. You know: we get free toys. EdenFantasies.com gets a free plug. (You may recall the case of the butt plug projectile?)

So this time it was Molly and Mick’s turn to play, and either praise or pan.

As mentioned here on Sunday morning, when Kayla gave us a chance to select a toy category, we considered the broad variety of options laid before us, and opted for a dildo that might allow Mistress to “upgrade” her strap-on ensemble with something a little less worn and a little more robust. Kayla responded with a variety of dildos to select from.

But apparently Slave did not pay attention to the helpful product dimensions listing on the EdenFantasies.com website, describing the length and girth of the Charmer, the dildo we selected and that Kayla arranged to arrive in an inconspicuous box on our doorstep within just a few days.

Fortunately, while Mistress tried the Charmer on with her strap-on harness, she did not force me to pay the price for my error.



And although one helpful commenter suggested that some additional quantities of lube would have solved the problem, I was certainly grateful for Mistress’s sense of restraint when she chose not to “supersize me.”

But of course that did not mean the Charmer would go to waste. Because what might be a little too large for my tighter rear aperture might be just the right size for Mistress’s well groomed and more accomodating tunnel of love.

“We’re going to have to try this in the morning, Mistress…. When the tables are turned.”

“I guess I don’t have much choice about it, Slave.”

No, on our Switch Day, I hold the cards and deploy the equipment.

So with the kids away for the evening, and with Mistress safely secured to the bed Sunday morning, her arms secured overhead with our red leather cuffs, I primed Mistress with my tongue and lips.

Soon she was squirming in response to my ministrations, and I figured it was time to give the Charmer a chance to strut its stuff.

Mistress’s juices were flowing with her fervor, so there was no need to introduce any synthetic lubricants past those clean shaven folds. Instead, I slowly but surely pressed the firm but quite pliable charmer home, filling her inch by inch, it’s thick and bulbous head plowing deeply into what is more typically the playground of my work-a-day cock.

“How is that Mistress, is it too big?”

“Mmmm…. Interesting Slave….”

Her hips were beginning to subtly writhe from side to side. I had elected not to tie her ankles off to the corners of the bed, and I liked the way her unrestrained legs were beginning to shift as her body absorbed the full heft of our new toy.

Nice.

“I guess this gives you a sense of what the WC’s special occasion cock might be like, Mistress…”

“Maybe, Slave…. but I think his might actually be bigger….”

“I guess we could send this to him and have him take a “line up” comparison photo, Mistress.”

I’ve saved the box.

By now Mistress was getting a little distracted. The Charmer was fully seated, her hips seemed to have taken on a life of its own, twitching and switching with increasing and apparent frustration.

Now the Charmer, on it’s own was not going to get Mistress over the top. And it would have been too cruel for me to just let her languish there. Tied to the bed. Full. But frustrated. At least so it seemed at the time.

I turned up the heat a bit, applying slow and insistent strokes with my tongue to her clit, while toying with her little visitor with my right hand, gently turning it, pull it out a bit, pushing it in.

The result was an increasing reaction of frenzied frustration from the subject of this little product testing protocol.

Now I could have continued to use a combination of tongue and dildo to produce a healthy and satisfying climax for dear Molly.

But why settle for that…. I mean she was heading off for a long trip, I felt a need to go somewhere special, if only to give her something to consider under the covers in that shared Polish hotel suite with her Mother’s and sister’s presence dampening her carnal urges.

So I figured it was time to mix and match from our growing tool box.

So I reached for the Hitachi, already plugged in and nestled just under our bed, still there from Mistress’s Thursday morning “training session” with the WC.

Let’s just say the combination of the insistent churn of the Hitachi pressed hard against Mistress’s sodden folds, while the Charmer filled her and prodded against that little tender spot inside caused a veritable eruption here at the UCTMW World HQ.

Actually it was two eruptions, before Mistress begged me to turn the power tool off.

I let Mistress come down a bit, before I extracted the Charmer, dripping with Mistress sauce. It made a funny little plop as the thick head finally came free.

And before I took my own pleasure, substituting my humbler prong for the pink one that EdenFantasies.com had been so kind to send us, I asked Mistress for her contemporaneous evaluation, before the post orgasmic aftershocks had faded.

“Wow…. That was….intense…. Definitely a keeper, Slave.”

That type of response earns the Charmer a “two body parts up” review here at UCTMW. Though I am still hoping that Mistress’s keeps it clear of her Slave’s humble ass.

Off on Her Adventure

Mistress is flying over the Atlantic as I write here, off on a mission of discovery with her mother and sister, to visit some cities and sites of profound meaning for each of them. And though it would have been nice to tag along, this is a journey that provides this little trio a rare and probably last chance to travel together. ( And also to drive each other insane.)

Believe it or not, their itinerary does not include a stop at Westminster Abby on Friday morning. Though I suspect they may pick up some tacky wedding swag at Heathrow tomorrow before catching their connecting flight east. Maybe an overpriced “Wills and Kate” shot glass, to go with the Cuban rum I’ve asked Molly to pick up at Duty Free on her way home?

Come to think of it, if you wait until the flight back, I bet you can buy that shot glass at half price, as the market collapses for “wedding of the century” tchotchkes.

And keep an eye out for Elton John at the airport Mistress… he’s probably re-written Candle in the Wind one more time for this event, don’t you think?

Of course, Slave’s  been trying to avoid seeming too needy and pathetic about Mistress’s extended absence. But it’s hard to tell my cock to just suck it up and deal. And I do believe Mistress had her own unusually needy reaction this morning, our last together for about 11 days.

Normally I have to wake Mistress in the morning, usually after I finish my “homework” and post it for all of you to share. Before we went to sleep Monday night, Mistress had told me “wake me for sex at seven, Slave” (trying saying that a dozen times).

But by 6:30 am she was up, down the stairs looking for something.

“Where’s my cock, Slave?”

Fortunately, I was just finishing up, and we proceeded upstairs, back to bed.

After Mistress read, and I worshipped, Mistress made her intentions clear.

“I want to suck it one more time before I go, Slave.”

As you might expect, I made no effort to dissuade her, not that it would have been my “place” to do so.

But what she found was a fully realized cock, not one that needed any further “coaxing”.

“Oh my, Slave…. this is a really hard one already.”

“Maybe it’s figured out that this will be it’s last chance for the real thing for a while, Mistress.”

Yes, the work-a-day cock seemed to have a mind of its own Tuesday morning. So much so that Mistress felt compelled to ride it hard, as she had the night before, to a dramatic effect for both of us.

It turned out that we it was good we had the extra time that Mistress’s early wake up allowed. Because we used it all.

We drove to work together, Mistress tapping away on her I-phone, a little freaked at being disconnected so profoundly from work for so much longer than normal, as I navigated the traffic. I dropped her off at her office, with plans to reconnect around  2 pm for the drive to the airport.

But despite her need to tie off all those loose ends at work, she was able to break away a few minutes earlier for one last visit to my office.

 I pulled the chair up against the door, and Mistress wriggled out of her black undies, letting her sandals slide to the floor. Before I “dug in”, I murmured my regrets.

“I’m gonna Miss this Mistress.”

“Me too Slave…”

Mistress and I talked a few times as she waited in the British Airways First Class lounge in Chicago this evening. She was looking forward to the pampered upgrade her sister had arranged, sipping a glass of Chardonnay as we talked.

“I did get to talk a little to M too, Slave…. he made sure I understood all those complicated rules.”

In fact, it seems M may miss Molly almost as much as her Slave will.

“Hope you get to have some of those bonus orgasms on the plane tonight, Mistress.”

“We’ll see, Slave….”

(Cuddled into these accommodations, she should have plenty of opportunity, M)

By then it was time to sign off, and power down.

And of course, there’s a song to go with all this. A maudlin song.I mean, really maudlin.

I promised Mistress I would email her the blog so she could read it in the morning in London…. Hope you enjoy this one, Mistress!

Have fun over there.

Bon Voyage, Mistress

Mistress is all packed and ready to go.

There have been some ongoing discussions about the volume of her bag. Slave is one of those guys who believes that on a long, overseas trip you only bring clothing or other items you can leave behind, returning with a lighter bag than you left with, while still leaving room for items acquired along the way. (The best example of this was when we left two old, already replaced pair of skis at the base of a ski lift in Northern Italy years ago, considerably lightening our load for the return flight.).

Mistress, on the other hand, takes the position that she has no “disposable” clothing items that she has not already disposed of. In other words, she’s not going to be caught dead touring even the bleakest of European destinations without costumes that suit her lovely visage.

I did get her to slim her bag down to no more than two pair of jeans (from three), and five black T-shirts (from the original seven). Let’s just hope that her mother has arranged for sherpas as they travel from town to town.

Of course, there were some items that needed to be added to the bag, at her personal trainer’s request. And I was assigned the task of rounding them up.

“M says I need to pack my butterfly vibrator and two clothes pins Slave….though I am still awaiting instructions.”

That was Sunday. (I will give you a more complete description of our Switch Day activities, as part of my EdenFantasies.com product review).

But by yesterday afternoon, the WC’s instructions had been coveyed, at least by word of mouth. On the way home, Mistress explained the “rules” that M had imposed, which, I must say, seem a little confusing and subject to manipulation.

“He says everyday I have to flip a coin. But you have to make the call ahead of time, via text or email … you know “heads, or tails”. He acknowledges it’s an honor system.”

See, I’m already a little confused.

“And what happens if you “win” Mistress?”

“I get to play with myself, and have as many orgasms as I want…. But I have to have at least one.”

“And if you lose?”

“I have to put the clothespins on my nipples, and can’t take them off until I have at least three orgasms, Slave.”

Ouch.

“How are you going to organize getting the privacy to do all that, Mistress.”

She will be traveling with her Mother and Sister, after all, and quarters could be close.

“Not sure, Slave…. I guess I am going to have to look for my chances, maybe slip into the bathroom.”

Now this will be interesting.

But M, I would encourage you to put your instructions into writing. She has been known to wheedle and take advantage of any ambiguity, sort of like that sleazy football Coach at Ohio State in the doggy sweater. You’d better make your instructions clear and unambiguous if you expect compliance from my Mistress.

In packing, Mistress did find in her bag a souvenir from the 2008 Presidential campaign, acquired from a clever political action committee. Here’s a shot of that specially branded prophylactic device.

“You might as well take it Mistress …. Maybe you’ll run into someone interesting on your travels, so it makes sense to be prepared."

After all, she still has not sampled an uncircumcised cock.

“Good idea, Slave…. better safe than sorry.”

So it seems that Mistress is ready to go. It’s not just a cruel hoax. I’m taking her to the airport this afternoon.

Not meaning to sound like a whiner, but it will be very strange, and certainly lonely, not to have my lovely Molly next to me in bed tonight. By my calculation, we’ve never been a part for this many days and nights since sometime in the Presidency of George H.W. Bush, even before we actually “outed” ourselves and moved in together. Even when we did our hideous commute, from River City to the Sunshine State, we never were apart for more than a 4 or 5 days. So we are embarking on unexplored territory here.

Last night, our impending separation finally sunk in.

When we got home from work, I made sure she got in two little cums as I worshipped her from my knees, her legs splayed across our bed.

After a bike ride and dinner, We clung a little more closely than normal watching a DVD about some locales where she will be traveling. And when it became clear we were getting sleepy, the show was turned off before the end, so we had plenty of time for our usual nocturnal activities.

But this was a little more robust, and a little more desperate than “normal”.

“Why don’t you go put in your device. Slave, so I get the extra hard cock.”

“Of course, Mistress….”

And when her well manicured fingers made sure it really was extra hard, Mistress pushed me back and mounted me…. The full frontal cowgirl…. Riding me to at least two more orgasms until she collapsed onto my chest, exhausted.

Then it was my turn, which I savored, dragging things out for both of us as long as I could, until I could hold back no longer.

“May I come, Mistress….”

“You may, Slave….”

And it seemed like I did for a very long time, in a series of rushes that had Mistress murmuring…. “Wow, Slave… you must have been very desperate for that….”

Yeah. Guess I was projecting ahead to 11 nights of solitude. And, fortunately for me… there’s one more chance available before we head to work this morning.

If you’ll excuse me…. Gotta go.

Bon Voyage, Mistress

Mistress is all packed and ready to go.

There have been some ongoing discussions about the volume of her bag. Slave is one of those guys who believes that on a long, overseas trip you only bring clothing or other items you can leave behind, returning with a lighter bag than you left with, while still leaving room for items acquired along the way. (The best example of this was when we left two old, already replaced pair of skis at the base of a ski lift in Northern Italy years ago, considerably lightening our load for the return flight.).

Mistress, on the other hand, takes the position that she has no “disposable” clothing items that she has not already disposed of. In other words, she’s not going to be caught dead touring even the bleakest of European destinations without costumes that suit her lovely visage.

I did get her to slim her bag down to no more than two pair of jeans (from three), and five black T-shirts (from the original seven). Let’s just hope that her mother has arranged for sherpas as they travel from town to town.

Of course, there were some items that needed to be added to the bag, at her personal trainer’s request. And I was assigned the task of rounding them up.

“M says I need to pack my butterfly vibrator and two clothes pins Slave….though I am still awaiting instructions.”

That was Sunday. (I will give you a more complete description of our Switch Day activities, as part of my EdenFantasies.com product review).

But by yesterday afternoon, the WC’s instructions had been coveyed, at least by word of mouth. On the way home, Mistress explained the “rules” that M had imposed, which, I must say, seem a little confusing and subject to manipulation.

“He says everyday I have to flip a coin. But you have to make the call ahead of time, via text or email … you know “heads, or tails”. He acknowledges it’s an honor system.”

See, I’m already a little confused.

“And what happens if you “win” Mistress?”

“I get to play with myself, and have as many orgasms as I want…. But I have to have at least one.”

“And if you lose?”

“I have to put the clothespins on my nipples, and can’t take them off until I have at least three orgasms, Slave.”

Ouch.

“How are you going to organize getting the privacy to do all that, Mistress.”

She will be traveling with her Mother and Sister, after all, and quarters could be close.

“Not sure, Slave…. I guess I am going to have to look for my chances, maybe slip into the bathroom.”

Now this will be interesting.

But M, I would encourage you to put your instructions into writing. She has been known to wheedle and take advantage of any ambiguity, sort of like that sleazy football Coach at Ohio State in the doggy sweater. You’d better make your instructions clear and unambiguous if you expect compliance from my Mistress.

In packing, Mistress did find in her bag a souvenir from the 2008 Presidential campaign, acquired from a clever political action committee. Here’s a shot of that specially branded prophylactic device.

“You might as well take it Mistress …. Maybe you’ll run into someone interesting on your travels, so it makes sense to be prepared."

After all, she still has not sampled an uncircumcised cock.

“Good idea, Slave…. better safe than sorry.”

So it seems that Mistress is ready to go. It’s not just a cruel hoax. I’m taking her to the airport this afternoon.

Not meaning to sound like a whiner, but it will be very strange, and certainly lonely, not to have my lovely Molly next to me in bed tonight. By my calculation, we’ve never been a part for this many days and nights since sometime in the Presidency of George H.W. Bush, even before we actually “outed” ourselves and moved in together. Even when we did our hideous commute, from River City to the Sunshine State, we never were apart for more than a 4 or 5 days. So we are embarking on unexplored territory here.

Last night, our impending separation finally sunk in.

When we got home from work, I made sure she got in two little cums as I worshipped her from my knees, her legs splayed across our bed.

After a bike ride and dinner, We clung a little more closely than normal watching a DVD about some locales where she will be traveling. And when it became clear we were getting sleepy, the show was turned off before the end, so we had plenty of time for our usual nocturnal activities.

But this was a little more robust, and a little more desperate than “normal”.

“Why don’t you go put in your device. Slave, so I get the extra hard cock.”

“Of course, Mistress….”

And when her well manicured fingers made sure it really was extra hard, Mistress pushed me back and mounted me…. The full frontal cowgirl…. Riding me to at least two more orgasms until she collapsed onto my chest, exhausted.

Then it was my turn, which I savored, dragging things out for both of us as long as I could, until I could hold back no longer.

“May I come, Mistress….”

“You may, Slave….”

And it seemed like I did for a very long time, in a series of rushes that had Mistress murmuring…. “Wow, Slave… you must have been very desperate for that….”

Yeah. Guess I was projecting ahead to 11 nights of solitude. And, fortunately for me… there’s one more chance available before we head to work this morning.

If you’ll excuse me…. Gotta go.

Bon Voyage, Mistress

Mistress is all packed and ready to go.

There have been some ongoing discussions about the volume of her bag. Slave is one of those guys who believes that on a long, overseas trip you only bring clothing or other items you can leave behind, returning with a lighter bag than you left with, while still leaving room for items acquired along the way. (The best example of this was when we left two old, already replaced pair of skis at the base of a ski lift in Northern Italy years ago, considerably lightening our load for the return flight.).

Mistress, on the other hand, takes the position that she has no “disposable” clothing items that she has not already disposed of. In other words, she’s not going to be caught dead touring even the bleakest of European destinations without costumes that suit her lovely visage.

I did get her to slim her bag down to no more than two pair of jeans (from three), and five black T-shirts (from the original seven). Let’s just hope that her mother has arranged for sherpas as they travel from town to town.

Of course, there were some items that needed to be added to the bag, at her personal trainer’s request. And I was assigned the task of rounding them up.

“M says I need to pack my butterfly vibrator and two clothes pins Slave….though I am still awaiting instructions.”

That was Sunday. (I will give you a more complete description of our Switch Day activities, as part of my EdenFantasies.com product review).

But by yesterday afternoon, the WC’s instructions had been coveyed, at least by word of mouth. On the way home, Mistress explained the “rules” that M had imposed, which, I must say, seem a little confusing and subject to manipulation.

“He says everyday I have to flip a coin. But you have to make the call ahead of time, via text or email … you know “heads, or tails”. He acknowledges it’s an honor system.”

See, I’m already a little confused.

“And what happens if you “win” Mistress?”

“I get to play with myself, and have as many orgasms as I want…. But I have to have at least one.”

“And if you lose?”

“I have to put the clothespins on my nipples, and can’t take them off until I have at least three orgasms, Slave.”

Ouch.

“How are you going to organize getting the privacy to do all that, Mistress.”

She will be traveling with her Mother and Sister, after all, and quarters could be close.

“Not sure, Slave…. I guess I am going to have to look for my chances, maybe slip into the bathroom.”

Now this will be interesting.

But M, I would encourage you to put your instructions into writing. She has been known to wheedle and take advantage of any ambiguity, sort of like that sleazy football Coach at Ohio State in the doggy sweater. You’d better make your instructions clear and unambiguous if you expect compliance from my Mistress.

In packing, Mistress did find in her bag a souvenir from the 2008 Presidential campaign, acquired from a clever political action committee. Here’s a shot of that specially branded prophylactic device.

“You might as well take it Mistress …. Maybe you’ll run into someone interesting on your travels, so it makes sense to be prepared."

After all, she still has not sampled an uncircumcised cock.

“Good idea, Slave…. better safe than sorry.”

So it seems that Mistress is ready to go. It’s not just a cruel hoax. I’m taking her to the airport this afternoon.

Not meaning to sound like a whiner, but it will be very strange, and certainly lonely, not to have my lovely Molly next to me in bed tonight. By my calculation, we’ve never been a part for this many days and nights since sometime in the Presidency of George H.W. Bush, even before we actually “outed” ourselves and moved in together. Even when we did our hideous commute, from River City to the Sunshine State, we never were apart for more than a 4 or 5 days. So we are embarking on unexplored territory here.

Last night, our impending separation finally sunk in.

When we got home from work, I made sure she got in two little cums as I worshipped her from my knees, her legs splayed across our bed.

After a bike ride and dinner, We clung a little more closely than normal watching a DVD about some locales where she will be traveling. And when it became clear we were getting sleepy, the show was turned off before the end, so we had plenty of time for our usual nocturnal activities.

But this was a little more robust, and a little more desperate than “normal”.

“Why don’t you go put in your device. Slave, so I get the extra hard cock.”

“Of course, Mistress….”

And when her well manicured fingers made sure it really was extra hard, Mistress pushed me back and mounted me…. The full frontal cowgirl…. Riding me to at least two more orgasms until she collapsed onto my chest, exhausted.

Then it was my turn, which I savored, dragging things out for both of us as long as I could, until I could hold back no longer.

“May I come, Mistress….”

“You may, Slave….”

And it seemed like I did for a very long time, in a series of rushes that had Mistress murmuring…. “Wow, Slave… you must have been very desperate for that….”

Yeah. Guess I was projecting ahead to 11 nights of solitude. And, fortunately for me… there’s one more chance available before we head to work this morning.

If you’ll excuse me…. Gotta go.

From Our Senior Correspondent: Where Man and Beast Live as One.

Mick has a daughter visiting from DC, and has to take her to the airport at an ungodly hour in the morning. So our Senior Correspondent Donna has graciously stepped into the void for this morning's entry. Thanks, Donna.

  Back when we lived in the land of alligators and hurricanes, each spring we would take a weekend away from the rest of the world and camp on the spoil islands, created by the sand dredged from digging channels to take missiles to the Cape in the 1960s. My lover man and I were just babes then and the small islands are now covered in scrub oaks, palms and lots and lots of sand. The only way to get to the islands is by boat, and we paddled to our island on sit-upon kayaks with our survival gear, tent, food and my crutches strapped on.

We set up our tent so the flap would open to the Indian River and the two of us would sit for hours watching the dolphins leap and play and the shrimp boats raise and lower their nets far off on the horizon. To lie beside Bill watching the sunrise was one of the sexiest times of my life. We were part of nature and cavorted and frolicked, sometimes as Dom and sub and sometimes as simple lovers.

Today I was out on the deck when a wind came up. We live out in the woods and the maples are just now offering their helicopter seeds to the world. As the wind picked up, the seeds swirled around me and the leaves on the white pines and red maples shimmied as the wind whistled through their branches. It was nature in its glory and for me that brings to mind sexy times. Obviously I was not the only one feeling it. As I stood there leaning against the railing, strong arms wrapped around me and fingers pinched my nipples, then slid down to hold me in a tight hug. I leaned back against Bill’s chest and felt the wind caress us both. After a few moments, Bill leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Bedroom, now!” I took care of a few necessary things and when I entered our bedroom, there was Bill, lying on the bed, legs spread wide, waiting for a warm mouth to suck his perfect cock. The sun was shining, the curtains billowed in the breeze, and the sound of birds singing and squirrels chattering came in the open windows. I hurriedly stripped down and joined my husband.

Bill said, “Name your one thing, now.” I chose butt plug, and he just nodded. That is my part of the love-making input when Bill is in full Dom mode. I am permitted to name one thing I want to do or wear or use, and Bill considers it while I get started licking and sucking and swirling my tongue around him. I always take time to play with his whole body. I like to rub my breasts against his beard, run the sides of my face over his belly, against those soft hairs that lead south to my target. I sometimes raise a hickey or two just above his groin on each side and I dampen the entire area with my lips and tongue. By then all systems are go for both of us and it is up to my lips, tongue and the judicious use of my teeth to bring pleasure while his hands, tightly tangled in my hair, lead the rhythm and depth of the experience.

At least fifty percent of the time I am granted some form of the request I have made in naming my one thing. Bill can be quite creative in fulfilling my request. Today, after he had come, he rolled me onto my back, reached into the bedside table for the plug, lube and Hitachi. He applied the lube to my rosette as well as the plug and began pressing and releasing the vibrator against my labia and clitoris. He swirled the Hitachi as he pushed the butt plug in and out, loosening that double ring of muscles bit by bit.

All of a sudden he slammed the butt plug in until it was firmly seated, began applying more pressure on the Hitachi and reached with his free hand to grab the strop. He used it on my breasts, beginning with a rhythmic tapping that coincided with additional pressure on my clit, then picked up speed as the strop hit my nipples a bit more firmly, gradually ramping up to a sharp sting. I could feel the shudders building in my abdomen, feel my body tightening up, getting ready for an explosion…and then Bill stopped. Everything was quiet as he stood over me staring deeply into my eyes. The next moment the Hitachi was on again and the strop was smacking again, and within seconds, I was begging for permission to come. He smiled, stayed on his task and and said nothing, knowing I was about to lose control. I begged once more, knowing full well I was at the brink, and he simply nodded. YES! Ignition and lift off!

We have quite a history together of loving springtime and nature and afternoon delights.

From Our Senior Correspondent: Where Man and Beast Live as One.

Mick has a daughter visiting from DC, and has to take her to the airport at an ungodly hour in the morning. So our Senior Correspondent Donna has graciously stepped into the void for this morning's entry. Thanks, Donna.

  Back when we lived in the land of alligators and hurricanes, each spring we would take a weekend away from the rest of the world and camp on the spoil islands, created by the sand dredged from digging channels to take missiles to the Cape in the 1960s. My lover man and I were just babes then and the small islands are now covered in scrub oaks, palms and lots and lots of sand. The only way to get to the islands is by boat, and we paddled to our island on sit-upon kayaks with our survival gear, tent, food and my crutches strapped on.

We set up our tent so the flap would open to the Indian River and the two of us would sit for hours watching the dolphins leap and play and the shrimp boats raise and lower their nets far off on the horizon. To lie beside Bill watching the sunrise was one of the sexiest times of my life. We were part of nature and cavorted and frolicked, sometimes as Dom and sub and sometimes as simple lovers.

Today I was out on the deck when a wind came up. We live out in the woods and the maples are just now offering their helicopter seeds to the world. As the wind picked up, the seeds swirled around me and the leaves on the white pines and red maples shimmied as the wind whistled through their branches. It was nature in its glory and for me that brings to mind sexy times. Obviously I was not the only one feeling it. As I stood there leaning against the railing, strong arms wrapped around me and fingers pinched my nipples, then slid down to hold me in a tight hug. I leaned back against Bill’s chest and felt the wind caress us both. After a few moments, Bill leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Bedroom, now!” I took care of a few necessary things and when I entered our bedroom, there was Bill, lying on the bed, legs spread wide, waiting for a warm mouth to suck his perfect cock. The sun was shining, the curtains billowed in the breeze, and the sound of birds singing and squirrels chattering came in the open windows. I hurriedly stripped down and joined my husband.

Bill said, “Name your one thing, now.” I chose butt plug, and he just nodded. That is my part of the love-making input when Bill is in full Dom mode. I am permitted to name one thing I want to do or wear or use, and Bill considers it while I get started licking and sucking and swirling my tongue around him. I always take time to play with his whole body. I like to rub my breasts against his beard, run the sides of my face over his belly, against those soft hairs that lead south to my target. I sometimes raise a hickey or two just above his groin on each side and I dampen the entire area with my lips and tongue. By then all systems are go for both of us and it is up to my lips, tongue and the judicious use of my teeth to bring pleasure while his hands, tightly tangled in my hair, lead the rhythm and depth of the experience.

At least fifty percent of the time I am granted some form of the request I have made in naming my one thing. Bill can be quite creative in fulfilling my request. Today, after he had come, he rolled me onto my back, reached into the bedside table for the plug, lube and Hitachi. He applied the lube to my rosette as well as the plug and began pressing and releasing the vibrator against my labia and clitoris. He swirled the Hitachi as he pushed the butt plug in and out, loosening that double ring of muscles bit by bit.

All of a sudden he slammed the butt plug in until it was firmly seated, began applying more pressure on the Hitachi and reached with his free hand to grab the strop. He used it on my breasts, beginning with a rhythmic tapping that coincided with additional pressure on my clit, then picked up speed as the strop hit my nipples a bit more firmly, gradually ramping up to a sharp sting. I could feel the shudders building in my abdomen, feel my body tightening up, getting ready for an explosion…and then Bill stopped. Everything was quiet as he stood over me staring deeply into my eyes. The next moment the Hitachi was on again and the strop was smacking again, and within seconds, I was begging for permission to come. He smiled, stayed on his task and and said nothing, knowing I was about to lose control. I begged once more, knowing full well I was at the brink, and he simply nodded. YES! Ignition and lift off!

We have quite a history together of loving springtime and nature and afternoon delights.

From Our Senior Correspondent: Where Man and Beast Live as One.

Mick has a daughter visiting from DC, and has to take her to the airport at an ungodly hour in the morning. So our Senior Correspondent Donna has graciously stepped into the void for this morning's entry. Thanks, Donna.

  Back when we lived in the land of alligators and hurricanes, each spring we would take a weekend away from the rest of the world and camp on the spoil islands, created by the sand dredged from digging channels to take missiles to the Cape in the 1960s. My lover man and I were just babes then and the small islands are now covered in scrub oaks, palms and lots and lots of sand. The only way to get to the islands is by boat, and we paddled to our island on sit-upon kayaks with our survival gear, tent, food and my crutches strapped on.

We set up our tent so the flap would open to the Indian River and the two of us would sit for hours watching the dolphins leap and play and the shrimp boats raise and lower their nets far off on the horizon. To lie beside Bill watching the sunrise was one of the sexiest times of my life. We were part of nature and cavorted and frolicked, sometimes as Dom and sub and sometimes as simple lovers.

Today I was out on the deck when a wind came up. We live out in the woods and the maples are just now offering their helicopter seeds to the world. As the wind picked up, the seeds swirled around me and the leaves on the white pines and red maples shimmied as the wind whistled through their branches. It was nature in its glory and for me that brings to mind sexy times. Obviously I was not the only one feeling it. As I stood there leaning against the railing, strong arms wrapped around me and fingers pinched my nipples, then slid down to hold me in a tight hug. I leaned back against Bill’s chest and felt the wind caress us both. After a few moments, Bill leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Bedroom, now!” I took care of a few necessary things and when I entered our bedroom, there was Bill, lying on the bed, legs spread wide, waiting for a warm mouth to suck his perfect cock. The sun was shining, the curtains billowed in the breeze, and the sound of birds singing and squirrels chattering came in the open windows. I hurriedly stripped down and joined my husband.

Bill said, “Name your one thing, now.” I chose butt plug, and he just nodded. That is my part of the love-making input when Bill is in full Dom mode. I am permitted to name one thing I want to do or wear or use, and Bill considers it while I get started licking and sucking and swirling my tongue around him. I always take time to play with his whole body. I like to rub my breasts against his beard, run the sides of my face over his belly, against those soft hairs that lead south to my target. I sometimes raise a hickey or two just above his groin on each side and I dampen the entire area with my lips and tongue. By then all systems are go for both of us and it is up to my lips, tongue and the judicious use of my teeth to bring pleasure while his hands, tightly tangled in my hair, lead the rhythm and depth of the experience.

At least fifty percent of the time I am granted some form of the request I have made in naming my one thing. Bill can be quite creative in fulfilling my request. Today, after he had come, he rolled me onto my back, reached into the bedside table for the plug, lube and Hitachi. He applied the lube to my rosette as well as the plug and began pressing and releasing the vibrator against my labia and clitoris. He swirled the Hitachi as he pushed the butt plug in and out, loosening that double ring of muscles bit by bit.

All of a sudden he slammed the butt plug in until it was firmly seated, began applying more pressure on the Hitachi and reached with his free hand to grab the strop. He used it on my breasts, beginning with a rhythmic tapping that coincided with additional pressure on my clit, then picked up speed as the strop hit my nipples a bit more firmly, gradually ramping up to a sharp sting. I could feel the shudders building in my abdomen, feel my body tightening up, getting ready for an explosion…and then Bill stopped. Everything was quiet as he stood over me staring deeply into my eyes. The next moment the Hitachi was on again and the strop was smacking again, and within seconds, I was begging for permission to come. He smiled, stayed on his task and and said nothing, knowing I was about to lose control. I begged once more, knowing full well I was at the brink, and he simply nodded. YES! Ignition and lift off!

We have quite a history together of loving springtime and nature and afternoon delights.

From Our Senior Correspondent: Where Man and Beast Live as One.

Mick has a daughter visiting from DC, and has to take her to the airport at an ungodly hour in the morning. So our Senior Correspondent Donna has graciously stepped into the void for this morning's entry. Thanks, Donna.

  Back when we lived in the land of alligators and hurricanes, each spring we would take a weekend away from the rest of the world and camp on the spoil islands, created by the sand dredged from digging channels to take missiles to the Cape in the 1960s. My lover man and I were just babes then and the small islands are now covered in scrub oaks, palms and lots and lots of sand. The only way to get to the islands is by boat, and we paddled to our island on sit-upon kayaks with our survival gear, tent, food and my crutches strapped on.

We set up our tent so the flap would open to the Indian River and the two of us would sit for hours watching the dolphins leap and play and the shrimp boats raise and lower their nets far off on the horizon. To lie beside Bill watching the sunrise was one of the sexiest times of my life. We were part of nature and cavorted and frolicked, sometimes as Dom and sub and sometimes as simple lovers.

Today I was out on the deck when a wind came up. We live out in the woods and the maples are just now offering their helicopter seeds to the world. As the wind picked up, the seeds swirled around me and the leaves on the white pines and red maples shimmied as the wind whistled through their branches. It was nature in its glory and for me that brings to mind sexy times. Obviously I was not the only one feeling it. As I stood there leaning against the railing, strong arms wrapped around me and fingers pinched my nipples, then slid down to hold me in a tight hug. I leaned back against Bill’s chest and felt the wind caress us both. After a few moments, Bill leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Bedroom, now!” I took care of a few necessary things and when I entered our bedroom, there was Bill, lying on the bed, legs spread wide, waiting for a warm mouth to suck his perfect cock. The sun was shining, the curtains billowed in the breeze, and the sound of birds singing and squirrels chattering came in the open windows. I hurriedly stripped down and joined my husband.

Bill said, “Name your one thing, now.” I chose butt plug, and he just nodded. That is my part of the love-making input when Bill is in full Dom mode. I am permitted to name one thing I want to do or wear or use, and Bill considers it while I get started licking and sucking and swirling my tongue around him. I always take time to play with his whole body. I like to rub my breasts against his beard, run the sides of my face over his belly, against those soft hairs that lead south to my target. I sometimes raise a hickey or two just above his groin on each side and I dampen the entire area with my lips and tongue. By then all systems are go for both of us and it is up to my lips, tongue and the judicious use of my teeth to bring pleasure while his hands, tightly tangled in my hair, lead the rhythm and depth of the experience.

At least fifty percent of the time I am granted some form of the request I have made in naming my one thing. Bill can be quite creative in fulfilling my request. Today, after he had come, he rolled me onto my back, reached into the bedside table for the plug, lube and Hitachi. He applied the lube to my rosette as well as the plug and began pressing and releasing the vibrator against my labia and clitoris. He swirled the Hitachi as he pushed the butt plug in and out, loosening that double ring of muscles bit by bit.

All of a sudden he slammed the butt plug in until it was firmly seated, began applying more pressure on the Hitachi and reached with his free hand to grab the strop. He used it on my breasts, beginning with a rhythmic tapping that coincided with additional pressure on my clit, then picked up speed as the strop hit my nipples a bit more firmly, gradually ramping up to a sharp sting. I could feel the shudders building in my abdomen, feel my body tightening up, getting ready for an explosion…and then Bill stopped. Everything was quiet as he stood over me staring deeply into my eyes. The next moment the Hitachi was on again and the strop was smacking again, and within seconds, I was begging for permission to come. He smiled, stayed on his task and and said nothing, knowing I was about to lose control. I begged once more, knowing full well I was at the brink, and he simply nodded. YES! Ignition and lift off!

We have quite a history together of loving springtime and nature and afternoon delights.