Friday, April 11, 2014

Tights Season, RIP

Back here in River City, spring has finally arrived. Trees are blossoming. Slave has already done the first annoying lawn mow of the season. After a long and unusually snowy winter, it's about dang time.

But the one downside is that Mistress had finally put away those black tights that I have a bit of a fetish for, and the women on the street are also switching to the naked leg look, depriving Slave of his lunchtime eye candy.

Of course, there are advantages - including ease of access yesterday afternoon,  when Mistress stopped by my office after lunch for a little dessert by way of my eager lips and tongue. All she had to do is wriggle out of some black silky undies and the clean shaven folds were out and ready for her Slave's devotion.


Thursday, April 10, 2014

Cuckolding in the News

Mistress and Slave made it back Monday night to River City, bummed that we left a beautiful sunny spring day behind, only to return to the rainy, gloomy heartland where our desks were piled with work we had been avoiding for the last 10 days.

Fortunately, the sun came out by Wednesday, and we were able to get back into our outside bike riding routine. The bonus of that was Slave's post-ride opportunity to soothe the clean shaven folds with my tongue and lips. I always love the salty treat that arises when I get to engage in some post workout worship!

But the prime subject of today's post is the new attention that cuckolding has gotten here in the States recently.  Sin has been curious about what is the turn on for a male in the cuckold relationship (though maybe she should explain why she seems to get off on 'sharing' her own BB Dom on occasion).  She found this article that she passed on: cuckolding: the sex fetish for intellectuals from the Daily Beast.  The proposition is that it takes a high IQ to go for the brand of mental suffering and humiliation that goes with having another man please your wife in the sack.  Here is the gist:

“This isn’t like swinging, and it’s not a threesome. Cuckolded men (aka "cucks") only observe their wives’ infidelities, they don’t participate. And that's why they find it a turn-on: They're left out, looking on as the woman they love climaxes with a better man than them. It’s a form of psychological sadomasochism. Some people get turned on by whips, chains, and physical pain. Cucks get aroused by mental anguish.

Cuckolding is rapidly emerging as the alt-sex fetish of choice for American intellectuals. Just check out the online forums like, where letter-perfect postings celebrate cuckoldry as a cerebral pursuit, transcending ordinary voyeurism and S&M as a dangerous game involving jealousy, misery, gratitude, shame, sharing, sublimation, lust, and trust.”

I'm not so sure I qualify as an "intellectual" (a "damn him with faint praise" label  from the 50's used to slur Adlai Stevenson and his 'ilk"), but I suppose enjoying the notion that your wife enjoys the sexual attention of another man is not for every guy. The article goes on to suggest several potential motivations, including that the involvement of another man in your wife's sex life gets those competitive juices flowing; or maybe the "cuck" is really gay, and like's the sight of a naked guy in his bed.  

Here in the UCTMW World HQ our brand of cuckolding has not involved this humble slave watching any of the action, let alone joining in....I suppose I've seen Mistress's lover give her a kiss, or squeeze her ass. And yes, I've served dinner, or coffee in bed on one occasion. But my "turn on" is not associated with some longing for naked guy action.

Let's put me more in the "competitive juices" camp. And add in the notion that it's enjoyable to see my lovely Mistress pleased and pampered.

But we're not done here just yet. Earlier this week in the states we had the breaking "scandal" of the "Kissing Congressman". Louisiana Republican Vance McCallister was caught on a surveillance cam sucking face with a 33 year old staffer at his district office in some godforsaken corner of that swampy state.  Here's a link to the video in case you missed it: Kissing Congressman

Naturally, this fellow ran for office touting his family and Christian values, with a campaign ad featuring his wife and 5 kids walking with him through some idyllic field. You gotta watch this:  Meet Vance McCallister . Dang if a few months later he wasn't sucking face with a 33 yr. old blonde paid a whopping $22,000 a year to do his scheduling.

Now the staffer is unemployed and her hubby is pissed, as reported yesterday in The American Conservative:

The old friend and financial backer cuckolded by sleazy US Rep. Vance McAllister says the churched-up Congressman has ruined his life. Excerpt:
Heath Peacock said he didn’t know about the episode until Melissa called him a couple hours before the news broke.
“He has wrecked my life,” Peacock, 34, said of McAllister. “We’re headed for divorce.”
Heath and Melissa Peacock have been married for six years and have a 6-year-old son.

(As an aside, dear readers - could you pick better cuckolder / cuckoldee names than "Vance" and "Heath")

I guess Heath is not an "intellectual". Doesn't he get how hot it is that his powerful local Congressman, the guy he wrote campaign checks to, and who hired his wife for some late night "scheduling" , has been grabbing her ass and maybe a whole lot more on the side.

Dude, get with the program. This could be some hot bayou fun if you look at it my way. I'm hearing the Credence Clearwater Greatest Hits a;bum in my head already!

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Snow, Sunsets, and Wookie Feet

Getting onto our 10th consecutive ski day, this Ol' slave's legs are starting to show their age. So as the snow fell here once again yesterday afternoon, Mistress and Slave made a tactical withdrawal down the mountain yesterday afternoon. (That photo is Mistress on skis. Aren't you glad she wears a helmet?)

That early retreat was all the better for reading by the fire, napping and then waking for some pre-dinner sex.

When we woke at about 6:30 pm Mistress expressed some sympathy for my plight.

"I bet you're legs are tired Slave, so what about me riding my cock so as not wear you out."

"I'll happily permit that, Mistress."

"Since when are you in charge?"

"Good point, Mistresss."

Sure enough, after some oral worship to provide a nice starter-cum, Mistress rode on until (almost) sunset, providing a vigorous start to our evening.  And as the sun set once again, peeping our from under the snow clouds along the distant western horizon, Mistress was wheedled into modeling her retro- Wookie feet after-ski boots, a gift from her sister that came in handy with all the snow we've had here at the end of  the season.

Aren't they cute?

Fortunately, Chew Backa is not around to draft her off into the sage brush and have his big hairy way with her.

With the sun in its final throws, and Mistress getting dressed for our last night out on the town, I persuaded her to join me on our front porch to bask in the alpen glow. Fortunately for all of us, she did not slide into her robe, and I had my camera ready:

Saturday, April 5, 2014

The Missing

We're wrapping up our trip here just as our local ski mountain is shutting down for the season. And what better way for the ski season to end than with a couple of snow storms in the last few days, covering up the brown that had been popping through and providing us with some powder stashes to slide through as we polish off the season with so many ski days on our passes that we are embarrassed to share.

Combine the skiing with our two a day sex regime and some evenings out with friends, well, the time has flown too quickly for us here. The thought of heading back to the office and the drudgery of River City is hardly compelling.

Mistress has been on the phone a bit to her hometown lover.

"I think he misses me, Slave….."

"I'm sure he does, Mistress."

Speaking of "missing", Donna left a comment earlier today wanting to know how the WC's birthday visit played out. Sadly, the last we heard from him was the message that he was jumping in the UCTMW mobile news van and would be here in about 4 hours to partake of the birthday gift offered by my indulgent Mistress.

After that…. well he slipped off the radar screen. Vanished. Caput. Not a trace. Not a word.

There was some heavy snow on Thursday that buried the pass that he would likely have come through on his trip south to our hideaway. When he failed to turn up 12 hours later, we contacted the  authorities.  Mountain rescue teams have been scouring the pass and adjoining wilderness for the last 48 hours. To no avail...

But then it occurred to us: Maybe the WC stopped by one of those new marijuana dispensaries before hitting the road. With the clouded judgment that likely ensued if he had ingested a few "crazy cookies", who knows what route he may have taken.  And it's possible that to throw curious family members off his trail he shut down his cell phone - the equivalent of a little black box - that could be used to trace his chosen ( or accidental) course.

In desperation, we contacted the folks at CNN to put the WC on their radar. They've already come up with some compelling theories on what happened to Miguel  and the UCTMW mobile news van he was last seen driving. They include the following:

1) hijacked by terrorists who will use his ID to infiltrate a government building somewhere in Oklahoma…. or maybe Kansas?
2) beamed up by space aliens newer Roswell, NM who are curious about the reproductive habits of the males of our pathetic human species. Will they think the special occasion cock is typical?  Or calluses on the right hand?
3) Bushwhacked and left bleeding on some seedy Colorado trailer park  by the avenging Cossacks he had cheated in poker one late night in Sochi while covering the winter Olympics?
4) drowned in a tub of that high end lubricant he stumbled into reaching for a bag of fritos to tamp down a vicious case of the munchies?

I suspect Wolf Blitzer and his talking head panel of "experts" could have come up with more equally plausible theories to explain the WC's disappearance. But then there was "Breaking News" about some empty Foster's cans  found floating off the Australian coast that got them distracted.

Donna, we'll let you know if he ever turns up. And if any of our readers have any theories on what happened to the WC, feel free to add them to the list.