Happy New Year from Mick and Molly

As I type, I am sitting topless and in some racy black panties (that Mick gave me a few year's back) with a Tequila on the rocks in hand (here's to you my WC) in our mountain hide-a-way. It is -4 outside and we have just returned from taking three teens to a vapid (yet enjoyable) movie. We are preparing to bed down for the night -- and yes, after a pre-midnight sex time. We do spend lots of time in bed and (tho I know many of you don't believe it) much of it is actually sleeping.

Thanks to all of you for being in our lives. Like many of you, we turned to this blog world at a time when our path was a bit rocky. As far as I am concerned, it has been better therapy and counseling than we could have gotten in the vanilla world. While we have followed your own stories with vigor, you have also helped us with our own.

Mick and I do have lots of sex. Certainly often (yes, really at least twice most days), but our acts don't have the duration or athleticism of WC's with his wife. Nilla and WC like to say "more than any couple in America." My retort is certainly more than most of our vanilla friends. Once, I let our frequency slip with a friend and horrified does not begin to describe her expression.

Mick likely won't post in the morning as we get to drive back across at least five states and return to our working lives...wish you all great intimacy, sex, love and anything else that you are after in 2011.

Love,
Molly

Slave gets a Middle of the Night Cropping

Winter arrived with a vengeance on our remote UCTMW outpost in the last 24 hours. A fresh blanket of snow covers our yard, and our “neighbors”, a motley collection of plump heifers had their own snow blanket coating yesterday morning as they tore away at the bales of hay left for them in the field they call home.

On the ski mountain, snow was blowing, wind was whipping. and the Texans were taking shelter in the bars. which no doubt were  doing a brisk business in Irish coffee and spiked apple cider.

Molly and Mick took their obligatory runs in the thick snow. It was a powder day, and not to be missed. But by around 1 pm, our legs were shot, our gloves were soaked through. and we proclaimed “no mas”, skedaddling back to the warmth of our cabin.

But one extra  reason for our early exit was that we were bone tired from our prior night’s “activity”.

Things had started blandly enough. Mistress met an old friend from these parts for a drink (or two) at a local cantina, with plans to hook up with me and the teens for dinner at a nearby joint, where a local musician we have come to know would be playing.

But it’s Christmas week here, and the joint was packed, with a long line of hungry skiers and locals waiting for  tables. When Mistress arrived, Slave was in a bit of a huff, with teens demanding their culinary due in quick order, but me still hoping we could enjoy the  music.

The problem was solved with a bit of parental malpractice: the keys and a credit card were surrendered to the teens, who were told to head to a local pizza place for their long overdue repast. Of course, I knew there would be a line to eat there too, but at least I would not have to look at their glowering faces as they waited.

Soon Mistress and Slave had glommed a spot at a table with some friends, and we ate, drank, and were merry with an assortment of older and newer compadres through the evening.

When we arrived home, both of us were a little tipsy, and since Mistress had gotten a head start, it may have been that she was a little farther gone than her devoted Slave.

In any event, Mistress, lying across our bed as I undressed, mentioned that she thought her Slave had been too familiar with a woman ( or was it 2?) that had joined us at our table during the course of the evening. She was very displeased and insecure.

And Slave reacted poorly. Rather than acknowledge that Mistress is always correct on such matters, I defended myself. I really thought I had behaved in an exemplary and wholly fashion.

Words were exchanged that I regretted. And we went to a fitful sleep in a bit of a huff. Not something that we usually do here in the Collins household.

It was around 2:30 am or so when Mistress woke me.

“Slave…. I can’t sleep and it’s your fault.  I don’t like that sort of talk…. You need to be punished.”

I was groggy, half awake. But knew that the proper response was acceptance and apology.  I should have held my tongue last night, knowing that Mistress was a bit under the influence, and would likely wake in the morning with a different perspective.

I tried to express my regret, as I woke, a bit befuddled, at Mistress’s surprise urgings.

But Mistress would have none of it.

“Roll over on your stomach, Slave.”

I did. What else could I do?  And I could feel her cool hand on my ass. But it was not a loving hand. It was simply calibrating space and distance in the dark of our room.

A sort of manual range finder.

Then my ass was lit upon with the firm, hard blow of the riding crop…. How the hell did she find that damn thing in the dark?

“You know you deserve this, don’t you, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

And I did, I had spoken harshly and injudiciously to the woman that I love with all my heart.

And I knew, despite the temporary pain, that it was good that Mistress had this outlet to express her hurt and insecurity, rather than brooding over it through the night, or into the next day.

But man, as she continued to crop me, it hurt like hell.  I worried that all this thwacking might wake the slumbering teens.

I squirmed and wiggled, and chewed on my pillow to stifle my cries of pain. But she kept whacking me until she had spent her angst on my bottom.

Then she had me roll over, stroking me gently now with her hands.

“You did deserve that, Slave….”

“I know, Mistress. …  can I worship you now?”

“Yes, you may….”

She lay back on the bed, arms stretched overhead, and spread those delightful thighs.

Mistress’s cleanly shaven folds were a delight to lavish with attention, even as my ass smoldered in the cool air of our room. And it did not take long for Mistress to shudder with release.

But she was not satisfied.

“You need to fuck me now, Slave.”

She reached for my cock which was flaccid, still drowsy I suppose at this very late / early hour.

“Get it hard for me….now, Slave”

She was not in the mood for importuning, but needed my hard cock, probably to prove to herself my continued loyalty and devotion to her.

So I resorted to my hand, and sidling up against her warm, lush body  to provide her the proof she needed. And, once her standards had been met, what followed was a long crazed fucking that hopefully resolved those latent insecurities about my devotion to her.

When I was finally granted permission to come, we both collapsed into a sodden, exhausted sleep.

After our return early yesterday afternoon from battling the fresh powder, Mistress and I collapsed in bed for a 40 minute nap. Later, as we showered before dinner, Mistress took a look at my bottom.

“Oh my, Slave….. there’s still a nice welt there”.

Her hand gently caressed it, tracing it with her fingers.

“Are you glad you left your mark, Mistress?”

“I’m very glad. The Western Correspondent tells me I need to be tougher on you to avoid the sort of disagreement we had last night.”

“He may be right, Mistress…. “

HNT/ Dom-ing While Driving

It was decidedly more wintry on the slopes yesterday. Snow was falling in a fine powder, as the wind picked up and temperature fell.

So it came as no surprise to me that our sullen teens began to make noises about calling it a day by lunchtime. We’ve been skiing a lot on this trip, and I am hardly the one to veto a quick retreat down the mountain, particularly when the alternative is some quiet time between the sheets with my Mistress.

So, by around 1:30 or so, we were safely back at our toasty cabin, the teens preparing Spaghetti-O’s, (yes, the still eat that stuff), and me heating up some chili for a belated lunch.

Mistress was in our room, tending to some work emails, when I wandered in as the chili warmed.

She was casting an eye at her I-phone.

“Slave…. M wants to give me a call, and I suspect he has something more than a talk in mind… would you get out my supplies?”

She had that little light of desire in her eyes, and I was happy to have M stoke it.

“Of course, Mistress.”

I opened the drawer, pulled out the Hitachi and it’s extension cord, plugged it in for her and set it on the bed.

“Have fun, Mistress….”

She gave me a little kiss, and shut the door behind me. I switched on some music, the sort that makes the teens groan, but I figured that was better than them hearing their mother’s groans of sexual release, which might otherwise be clear but for the “white noise” of Laura Nyro and the Boss.

I had barely finished my chili, garnished with some corn chips and shredded cheese, when Mistress emerged from her little electronic rendezvous.

She had a soft cotton robe wrapped around her, seemingly naked underneath, and was now anxious for team member two of her little sexual tag team.

She seemed to veritably grab me by the collar of my shirt and haul me back into our room. So I suppose clean up the luncheon mess could wait.

Once I was suitably stripped, and reclining with her on the bed, I ran through my typical questions.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Oh, two Slave….”

Her hand was wrapped around my cock now and my fingers were sliding through the sodden folds that had already been so thoroughly exercised, yet still seemed in need of more.

“And did M get off too?”

“No… he was driving some where.”

“Wow. It was nice of him to fit you in, he must really like the sounds of your need, even when negotiating big city traffic.”

I was sliding down under the sheets now, parting her legs for some extended worship.

“Yes, Slave I think it turns him on…. Even when he can’t do it himself.”

Taking a brief break for air, I asked Mistress about his theme of the day.

“Did he have a story for you, Mistress?”

“It was based on Aisha’s Training School story slave …. I was naked and tied face to face to a male slave. His cock was very hard, and rubbing against me, but neither of us were allowed to come….”

“I’ll bet that was frustrating, Mistress….. and so cruel.”

“Yes, it was Slave.”

By now Mistress had one more little climax by way of my tongue, and I was asking permission to fuck her.

She checked to assure that my work-a-day cock met her standards, then generously granted admission.

“Thank you, Mistress….”

I’d been longing for her since she closed me out of the room an hour or so earlier, so this deferred gratification was most satisfying.

And as I fucked her, we went back to the story that M had spun for her.

“So was M the sub tied to you, or was he in charge, Mistress.”

M was in charge, of course, Slave. He was directing the action, teasing us. I’m not sure who the male sub was.”

With those thoughts, things spun a bit out of control. Mistress was coming again as my fingers worked over her clit even as my cock plunged into her. and then it was me begging for permission to come.

Which Mistress was quick and kind to grant.

I think we drifted off a bit then, with the snow still swirling down outside our window, masking the huge mountain in clouds and mist.

At some point the chime on Mistress’s phone went off again.

She groggily reached for it. Then I could hear her giggle.

“It’s from M, Slave. He says he’s going home to jerk off.”

Ummm. I suppose he deserved it. And I am glad he took it home, rather than resorting to self-help on the highway.

While Doming while driving can pose some risks of distraction, jerking off while driving could be much more perilous.

And I know the folks at the insurance desk of UCTMW would not be happy to handle a claim arising from our Western Correspondent rear ending some innocent driver, because his hand and brain were otherwise engaged.

M, if there is any rear-ending while on the UCTMW clock, please follow your protocol.

Branding?

Molly and Mick had one of those kink worlds / vanilla worlds collide experiences on Monday night. We were out at a local road house style restaurant, listening to some local musicians, watching the boot scooters on the dance floor. We had a big table for 15 – our teens, the friends from Florida, and some other folks from Texas who we have come to know in our travels here over the years.

Nice folks, but a bit dull compared to our friends out there in the bog-o-verse.

When I was served my hamburger, the guy next to me, a Houstonian stockbroker who poses as a cowboy out here in the Mountain Zone, but just can’t pull it off, points out that my bun was “branded” with the logo of the restaurant.

I looked to Molly, sitting on the other side of me, across the table from our friend Joe.

“Look,  dear,  they branded my bun… I bet you’d like to do that to me?”

Without missing a beat, Mistress knew the punch line….

“You’re right….. you deserve to be branded…. Right on your Ass.”

It was one of those rare moments when our friend Joe was left speechless.

(By the way, this is the same Joe who got all flustered by Mistress's lovely feet during our last Holiday season here. The link is here:Mistress's feet get special attention.

And Molly was probably already wondering about the practicalities of getting a branding iron with her name on it.

On the other hand, Molly and Mick do have some vanilla days of their own, particularly when our quaint cabin is filled with our surly teens and a boyfriend.

But that’s not to say that vanilla can’t have it’s rewards.

We had some warm and tender sex yesterday morning, after  Mistress read our blog and several others. But on the ski lift, Mistress had a question. Apparently she was reviewing her mental notes.

“Slave”, she whispered, assuming that the teen’s I-Pod would dampen all but the loudest conversation, “did you ask permission this morning?”

I thought a moment. And had a very specific recollection.

“Yes,  I am sure I did…. You have me well programmed.”

“As you should be….”

After another day of skiing in unusually bright and warm sunshine, we retreated back to our cabin with a blessed night without visitors to entertain or social engagements to make.

That meant a long “nap” time for the parents. Of course, the teens think we are beyond boring.  And we did nap.  For a while.

I remember waking with Mistress cuddled next to me, one leg over mine. The last light of the sun was turning the mountain outside our window a blazing red, and illuminating a stand of willows just beyond our patio.

Of course, we should have stumbled out of bed and into the yard to get the full gorgeous sunset effect.

But the warmth and attraction of Mistress’s lush and opulent body was just too compelling.

As wecame awake, it seemed our limbs began to instinctively intertwine, and I took one of her firm nipples in my mouth for some prolonged suckling.

“Mmmmm…. Nice, Slave”.

We muttered endearments, my hand ultimately sliding between her legs. She was already ripe there, her desire ready to be plucked. And my fingers soon had their way, making her gasp and pump against them.

“I want you to fuck me now, Slave.”

“Glad you asked, Mistress.”

And be assured, I did ask permission.

Mistress Gets a Homework Assignment

We are settling into a comfy routine here at our remote UCTMW location in these last few days before the long slog back to River City.

I wake early, still dark out. Peruse my emails and several of your blogs, then do my own posting for Mistress.

She calls for me at around 7 am, and we share some coffee, before she reads the blog as I worship her, stringing things out a bit with several of her other favorites. If she is “pleased” (as she routinely is) her devoted executive editor is rewarded with the opportunity to fuck her.

By then it’s time to rouse the teens, and head up the mountain for some skiing. The sun has been out, keeping spirits light and minimizing the complaints about cold toes and faces – though that seems about to change as winter begins to squeeze its way back into our beautiful valley.

We return around 3:30 pm or so, for some R & R before dinner, last night with a large group of friend at a local honky tonk where the music was rousing and the wine and margaritas flowed.

But yesterday afternoon there was a little twist to the routine before our afternoon “nap”.

“Slave… I think M wants to talk again this afternoon … maybe at around 4 pm…”

“Of course, Mistress….”

We showered together, and we had some time before Mistress’ date, so settled onto our bed. Mistress made sure her power tool was on hand.

Then Mistress picked up her laptop.

“He gave me some homework too…. Before we talk….”

“And what’s that, Mistress?”

“I’m supposed to read Aisha’s story about the Training School….’to get me in the proper frame of mind’, he says.”

Ahhh. It is an amazingly well written and very hot story…. I’d been meaning to encourage her to read it…. Glad M is on top of this one.

(here is the link, in case you’ve missed it. ….Aisha- Back in the Training School )

I helped Mistress find the beginning, and as she read I perused a few blogs myself…. Suzanne at ALL MINE had an interesting story about disciplining her husband that caught my attention. (Funny, I have no problem if Mistress asks me to carry her purse for her.)

I was lying there nude, next to Mistress, as she would require. And I was curious about the effect Aisha’s tale of submission (with a cameo by ‘Nilla as the person with the “killer” ass that undoes the Headmaster), was having on her. So I casually reached under the sheets covering her to slide my fingers between her firm thighs.

“What are you doing, Slave….”

She wriggled a bit at my touch.

“Just checking to see if you like the story, Mistress…. And I see you do….”

She was sopping, as one might expect, reading smut, as assigned by her cyber Master, anticipating her “date”, and the command performance with her power tool.

“Be careful, Slave…. M says I’m not allowed to come until I talk to him.”

Hmmmm…..

“Oh, sorry…. Did’t know you were on embargo, Mistress …. I bet that turns you on even more,,,,”

Can you hear a touch of sarcasm? I guess that’s not a proper Slave demeanor.

My finger was twirling and probing a bit…. but I had no intention of spoiling M’s fun, or causing Mistress to break his explicit instructions.

“It does turn me on, Slave…. But what about you…How does it feel …. Knowing that he’s in charge here, at least for now…. Because if I can’t come, neither can you.”

She must have looked down at my cock, which seemed to have decided to join the conversation with a little twitch and a nod.

Now it was her reaching for me….

“I think it does turn you on, doesn’t it Slave.”

“I can’t argue with the physical evidence, Mistress.”

She enhanced my frustration a bit with some gentle applications of her lips to my shaft. But then the little chime went off on her phone.

“Guess it’s time for my call, Slave….”

I slid into some jeans and a T shirt, grabbed my lap top, and went off to our living room, leaving Mistress to her demanding Master.

Some music helped distract me, and mask the kids from the wanton sounds that surely were to be heard by a discerning ear.

And not long after that, Mistress beckoned me back into her bed.

“How many, Mistress?”

“Oh…. I think two Slave….”

I suspect they were good ones by that dreamy look on her face.

“But now, get out of those cloths,,,, I want my cock, Slave….”

I snapped to it, appreciative that M had taken care of the foreplay duties and that I was destined to move on quickly to the main event.

Apres Ski with the WC.

I know that some of you may pop over to UCTMW this morning, expecting one of our elaborate Switch Day scenarios to unfold for your greedy little eyes.

Well…. sorry to disappoint.

When Mistress woke, she was feeling a little under the weather, and her Slave still had a glowing bottom, which probably put him in the “less inclined to be a hard ass Dom” frame of mind. So instead of binding her to the bed, or suspending her from a ceiling beam, for a turning of cruel tables, I chose the path of least resistance.

I brewed her a latte.

Then Mistress read the blog, as I slid my tongue across and through her moist folds. But she was feeling her oats with the reprieve she was awarded.

“Stay down there Slave…. I’m going to see what our friends are up to. She even read me a few passages from SFP’s blog about her new “bilingual” D, and typed off a sweet reply, which she read to me as I tended to her.

Only then did she put down the laptop.

I had decided she was in need of some power tool therapy, so popped out of bed long enough to retrieve her Hitachi from its drawer and plug in the extension cord.

But before I could click it into gear, Mistress had a suggestion….

“I’m sure you’re rather horny this morning Slave… but for extra fun, why don’t you put in your little device.”

Ahhh. The Aneros. Who could resist when Mistress put it that way. I happily obeyed, abandoning all pretense of taking charge. Once the device was lubed up and slid home I returned to her, my cock already aching for release.

I slid into bed with her, the Hitachi in hand, sliding it up the inside of her thigh to it’s natural resting place.

Soon Mistress was vibrating in tune with its powerful touch, and coming with those lovely bucks and moans that please me so, until she pushed it away.

“Enough, Slave…. Now I want my cock.”


We cuddled a bit as she toyed with my un-powered tool, until it met her high expectations. Indeed, it was soon me begging for the privilege to fuck her. To prove my devotion, I fingered her to another sweet explosion before permission was finally granted.

Ahhhh. Sweet release.

It had been a whole day, what with my “harsh” punishment of the evening before. I was very grateful for that long period of denial to come to an end.

We lingered in bed a while, me reading the Times on line, Mistress posting some family photos to facebook. Then we were off in different directions. I dropped Mistress and surly teen #2 at the Ski Mountain, then headed south to pick up Surly #1’s boyfriend who was arriving via plane to join us for this last week of our vacation.

After the three hour drive – with me acting as chauffeur as the two teen lovebirds sat in back on the drive home – I took a long bike ride in this unusually mild and sunny weather. (Suzanne, we should be the ones getting the big snow storm, not you and Tammy!)

Mistress got a ride back down the mountain from friends, and I was looking forward to a hot shower with her and a possible “round two” in our chambers, when she returned at around 3:45.

But she had other plans.

She took me aside, after greeting the visiting boyfriend.

“Slave…. our WC wants me to call him …. You don’t mind, do you?”

Well of course, who was I to object.

It had been a long holiday weekend without much chat between them. I settled down in front of the TV to watch some football and read a book. Mistress closeted herself in our room. I could here the sound of her voice from time to time, but not their intimate dialog.

After about 30 minutes of watching M’s home football team engineer a comeback with the help of a rookie Quarterback who’s name conveniently rhymes with a cut of beef, the door opened.

Mistress motioned for me to come hither, and whispered in my ear.

“Slave, it turns out M is home alone…. And well …. He wants to have a ‘date’… could you please get out my equipment.”

Of course, I could. Retrieving it again from its drawer, plugging it in and handing it to my sweet Molly, who would now be at the controls, responding to M’s directions.

I left the room, resumed watching the game, which soon ended. Then their were NFL highlights brought to us via the cliché bound former jocks and coaches rounded up for such occasions.

I marveled at M’s focus at having foregone his home team’s big come from behind victory in order to direct Mistress to a few wanton cum from the power tool climaxes.

Unless he is good at multi-tasking.

About 45 minutes later the door opened. Mistress had a towel wrapped around her lower half, looking a bit dazed, but happy.

I shut down the TV, and went to her, and the door closed again. Not that the two teens reclining on the guest room couch, doing their own “catching up”, paid the old fart parents any mind.

“How many, Mistress….”

“Oh, I lose track, Slave…. Maybe 2 or 3.”

I’ll count that as 3 or 4. But then, who’s counting.

“And did M get to partake as well?”

“He did Slave… his family was at the movies…so…”

“I suspect you liked all those sounds he made.”

“I did Slave… I did….”

(And I was not referring to the sound after the interception that clinched victory for his local team.)

But there was a happy ending for Slave too.

Mistress seemed determined to make sure my “lonely” cock was in the game too.

Soon we were both stripped and on our bed… our belated trip to the shower delayed one more time. And after mistress used her skilled lips to make my work-a-day wonder firm and ready for her, she rode me hard for two more robust orgasms before flipping over and allowing me to finish the job.

My athletic and well conditioned Mistress had a full workout for the day – on the slopes and between the thighs.

AS you can see, Après Ski in the Collins household can get a lot more complicated that some spiked warm cider and a dip in the hot tub.

A Tale of Two Bottoms

We had a lovely Christmas here at the Collins’ undisclosed location out here in the shadow of the Sangre de Christo mountains.  Aptly named for the holidays, come to think of it.

There was some satisfying wake up Sex, before the teens woke demanding tribute.

There was gift giving: the teens, still anxious after all these years to tear open the little treasures placed with care beneath our little tree. And a few gifts were Molly and Mick too.

There were the obligatory phone calls to far flung relatives. (The teens always roll their eyes when passed the phone).

There was a lovely day up on our sundrenched mountain: Not too stuffed with Texans on holiday, as it soon will be.

We came home from skiing at about 3:30, took a power nap, then had to begin preparations for our dinner with visiting friends. The girls had asked for a beef brisket, something alien to me, but which I had dutifully prepared that morning, between presents and phone calls.  It smelled lovely in the stove.

As I was dressing,  Mistress was wriggling into the new undies I had gifted her for the holiday. 

“Can I take a picture for our followers tomorrow Mistress …. I think they are due some delectable body parts?”

“Yes, Slave…. But I want you to get the riding crop too, when you get the camera.”

Gulp.

Earlier on the Mountain, Mistress had suggested that maybe she was not strict enough with me. Our WC has been pointing her to blogs describing the regimens of much “firmer” Dominant Wives, from Suzanne to Ms. Marie, and she’s been doing her homework.….

Gee, thanks, M.

After I took some lovely photos of Mistress in repose, modeling her new skimpy undies, sans the top that goes with it, She instructed me to drop my jeans.

I felt the soft caress of the tip of the crop. Then the first hard thwack.

“Ouch.” 

Yes it did hurt.

“I think you know what this is for, Slave….”

“Yes, Mistress….”

You see we have this couple visiting us with their son. Not staying in our house, but spending time with us in the evenings. We showed them the big celebration at the local Pueblo on Christmas Eve.

The sun had set over the mystical mountain. Fires were blazing. Billowing smoke and flying ash filled the air, obscuring the night. The exotic procession from the centuries old Church had begun. Our friends were concerned they might miss the action.

I guided them, pushing them forward to get a good view.

But Mistress had seen it differently, and was not happy.

“I saw you with your arm around Lisa…. It lingered longer than it needed, Slave…”

Well Mistress had nothing to fear. I am completely devoted to her, forsaking all others. But our history gives her reason for paranoia. I understand that. 

And, of course, Mistress is always right on such matters. If she saw those events as her Slave being too affectionate towards another woman, then, punishment was surely due.

The blows rained down on my ass. They hurt like hell. My hands instinctively flew to my sore and aching backside.

“Move those hands, Slave….that earns you a few more.”

Naturally, I complied, putting my hands on my head.  My bottom was on fire, but I was determined to be a good Slave.

Somehow I ended up on the bed, my ass exposed for a few additional thwacks, before she was done.

“There Slave…. I hope that reminds you how to behave when Lisa is around this evening….”

Then she asked for the camera and took a few shots of her own.

“I want one of these photos on the blog tomorrow morning, Slave…. Your pick.”

“And, by the way. This was not simply a prelude for you getting to fuck me…. No sex for you until tomorrow morning… at the earliest.”

Yikes.   

Mistress turns hard ass for Christmas. 

Mistress's Holiday Greetings

Hello Friends:
Thanks for all of your love and support of Mick and me throughout the year. We have loved getting to know each and every one of you. We truly enjoy your adventures, posts and stories.  As we have each conveyed in our own ways -- this world has become much more interesting than the vanilla life. And I am having a hard time not blurting out details of our blog and intimate world to our vanilla friends. Candidly, it's hard to find things to talk to them about.

Know that Mick came through (as to be expected) on the Xmas morning. He delivered yet another enticing little frock which sent our kids into their own frenzy! I am certain that you will each get to see it -- because while I may be in charge of Mick's cock and body activities -- he is really in charge of our day in day out life -- and seems to post one photo of me after another. Many of those that make this 47 year old body cringe.

I am especially thankful to the WC, whom I adore. He has brought great fun, friendship and other unmentionables (because, unlike some of you -- I don't write about that stuff) into our lives! And we found him all because of this blog. How weird is that?

Have a wonderful holiday. We will spend the rest of ours on a beautiful mountain, with brilliant sunshine and the comradarie of our surly, but cute teens.

love
Molly

Merry Christmas!

Molly and Mick are lying in bed, having sated themselves on one another in the pre-dawn hours here in our UCTMW mountain outpost. The surly teens have yet to wake us demanding their gifts. So we have just enough time to wish all of our friends, readers and lurkers a wonderful and peaceful holiday!

The Morning Before Christmas

Our morning rituals went a little askew yesterday.

You may remember that our schedule Wednesday evening did not allow time for Slave to properly fuck Mistress  after that clever “three way” stress relief session.

Then, when our friends left after an enjoyable evening listening to music at a local piano bar, Mistress was sleepy and ready for bed.

“I think you’ll have to wait until morning, Slave….”

That seemed quite reasonable to me, not that a Slave should have much say in such matters.

But when I woke around 5:30 am mountain time, when I might usually start working on the blog… there was an issue…. I had a very hard and needy cock. I mean, it had been almost 24 hours!!

I knew I was risking some Mistress wrath if I woke her in a fashion that she found unappealing, but….

I sidled up to her, closer in bed. She often says she likes me to press up against her this way, so she can feel my cock resting there between her warm and firm cheeks.

But this time the cock was not “at ease”. NO it was poking and burrowing, with a life and styling’s of it’s own.

And my left hand could not help but wrap around her, cupping a breast, lightly grasping her nipple between the sides of two fingers…. That could just be happenstance, couldn’t it?

She came awake slowly,,,,

“Ummmm …. Slave …. What are you up to? It’s so dark out.”

It was. Thick clouds, dumping snow on our mountain, were blocking the bright light of the nearly full moon.

“Well, Mistress …. I woke with a hard cock.”

I believe honesty is the best policy in dealing with a waking Mistress.

“I like that, Slave….and it seems you want to deal with this issue now?”

“If you, don’t mind, Mistress.”

Her butt wiggled, as if her cheeks were trying to grasp that hard cock doing the burrowing.”

“No Slave…. I don’t mind…..I like it when you are desperate for me.”

Of course, protocol here at UCTMW Enterprises always call for Mistress to be the first to “come” at these sorts of conferences.  And the method chosen was with my hand reaching around her, my fingers spreading her lips, already seeming moist and succulent. I slid a finger ever so gently inside her, so that the tip could seek out that little trigger point buried within, while the upper half of said finger glided across her needy little clit.

This approach turned out to be surprisingly efficient, and soon, Mistress was pumping her hips against my hand, gasping into a nice little introductory climax.

“Would you like to fuck me now, Slave?”

“I thought you’d never ask, Mistress.”

Afterwards Mistress drifted back to sleep, seemingly not displeased with her rude awakening, and Slave went about his blogging business.  There were curious readers to satisfy now.

You will be happy to know that Mistress was not shortchanged though. When she asked to read the blog later that morning, before it was time to head up our Mountain, she was lavished with some additional worship from her Slave.

It was the least I could do in light of her patience with me before her normal wake-up call.

Today will be a very busy one here in our undisclosed location. First, an abbreviated ski day to take advantage of some new fallen snow.  Then, a quick stop at the grocery for some Holiday dinner provisions. Then a trip to our local Pueblo for their timeless Christmas Eve / Solstice celebration. The teens will whine about the smoky smell in their hair from dozens of blazing fires. But Molly and Mick hope that they learn that these end of year holidays are not just about a single culture’s propensity for commercial excess.

Then again, I suppose those of us at UCTMW can be accused of a certain type of excess ourselves

From our top management, to our far flung reporting staff to those lowly horny tools in our mail room, the staff here at UCTMW wishes a peaceful and joyous  Christmas for all of you who celebrate it. 

Input from A New Contributor

Over the last few months, Molly and Mick have received some supportive and clever comments from Donna, a fellow kinkstress from the south with a serious disability that has not prevented her from dipping her toes and other body parts into the world of BDSM with the rest of us.

She recently shared a lengthy post she has provided to Dr. Dick's website, which I think our readers will enjoy. Here is the link:the indominitable human spirit.

 A few years back, Molly and Mick had the chance to spend some time skiing and talking with members of the US Disabled Olympics Ski Team, who could kick our ass on mogul runs in their custom made sleds, using  hand held tiny skis to guide their turns down Vail Mountain. Their skill was stunning. But their spirit was even more amazing.


Out on the slopes today, the Collins clan saw a disabled skier learning how to use one of those small sleds,  with the help of a ski instructor. One of the surly teens noticed the guy, clearly paralyzed below the waist, and commented: "why would he want to bother...."

I tried not to be preachy, mentioning simply that the skier probably wanted the same experience of being out on the mountain, facing down gravity and nature that we enjoyed so much. it just took him a whole lot more effort and guts to do it than it took us.

Of course that reminded me of the spirit of adventure that Donna's wonderful essay demonstrates. And I wanted to share it with all of you.

Of course, Donna's comments show that she has the type of sense of humour that we appreciate here at UCTMW enterprises. She was quick to chime in on the adventures of the WC's brother with his runaway finger. Here is a portion of her recent email to me:

I have been reading and enjoying your blog for several months and commenting every now and then. [Speaking of comments, do you really believe WC's brother and that whole three times up the bum thing? Any chance this is a brother who is a bit jealous of WC and is talking out of his hat? I mean really, does he carry a dozen finger cots or spare plastic gloves in his pockets, or perhaps one of those pocket sized containers of anti-bacterial cleanser?]

I agree Donna. The WC may have to have an intervention with his brother on the issue of proper sanitation. 

And here is another contribution from Donna, a kinky holiday poem which you may enjoy:

I came across a little bit of seasonal poetry that I thought might appeal to you two as well as WC. It probably won't appeal to his brother since there is no mention of thumbs with attitude. However, I wonder whether the brother's name might really be Jack...as in stuck in his thumb? And yes, it is almost time for my next dose of medication, why do you ask?

 

In any case, this is an erotic romance writer's version of The Night Before Christmas.

 

Have a nice day,

Donna

 

An Erotic Romance Night Before Christmas
By Devon Rhodes

'Twas the night before Christmas, when in every hut
All the authors were reading and writing their smut;

The stockings were net above killer high heels,
In hopes that St. Nichol-ass would soon cop a feel;

The kids were at Grandma’s, all snug in their beds,
While drool-worthy eye-candy danced in my head;

And I in my teddy, and watching the clock,
Had just settled down to await the Big Cock,

When on the front door there arose such a thumpin’,
I reclined on bed to wait for my pumpin’.

From outside the window, Tom opened his sash,
Tore open his raincoat and gave me a flash.

The moon on the breast of my hero's huge pecs
Gave a woody the size of his home state of Tex,

When, what should my wandering eyes watch come in,
But a hot dommy Master, and eight smokin’ hot men,

With a huge throbbing cock, so taut and so slick,
I knew in a moment I must have his dick.

He cock-ringed his buddies before they all came,
And he spanked them, and stroked them, and called them by name;

"Now, Asher! now, Derek! now, Paulie and Darin!
On, Cristoph! On, Corey! On, Donnie and Larren!

On top of the bed! Let’s show her a ball!
Now lick away! lick away! lick away all!"

He was dressed in black leather, from his head to his feet,
And his skin was all oiled, inducing great heat;

A bundle of toys he had flung on my bed,
And I knew he’d torment me before I gave head.

His abs -- how they rippled! his chest smooth, not hairy!
His ass cheeks like apples, and no way was it cherry!

His sexy wide mouth was drawn up in a smirk,
And he looked like a man who knew just how to work;

He was hot and enticing, and wanted to tame,
So he tied me right up and started his game;

An hour or so later I was limp and wrung dry,
The guys were all empty, endorphins were high;

He spoke not a word, but packed up his toys,
And wiped up the cream then zipped up his boys,

And tucked a long finger under my chin,
And giving a kiss, said, “You were a ten.”

He strode to his ride, to his guys gave a leer,
And told me for sure they’d be back here next year.

And I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Sexy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

Stress Relief

Sometimes this blog gets hijacked by breaking developments, not unlike the front page of your local newspaper, if you still have one.

Maybe the editor figures at the noon editorial meeting that the big story of the day will be how many cops will get laid off in the latest budget crunch. But what if, around 6 pm,  the local NFL team fires the head coach for too much on-line naughty. Then the scandalized coach becomes the headline you read over your coffee in the morning, and the out-of-work cops are lost below the fold.

So it went for this managing editor yesterday. I had a few good ideas for storylines, particularly yesterday’s morning ritual. You know, when Mistress is reading my blog, and I am favoring her naughty parts with much devotion with my well practiced lips and tongue. After she finished UCTMW, she casually says:

“Stay down there, Slave…. I’m going to read a few more….”

(Maybe my Justice League for Sex Bloggers theme was an insufficient inspiration?…. Point noted.)

I suspect she went through “Nilla, SFP, Suzzanne, maybe Aisha, before she set the laptop aside and proceeded into a rather dramatic series of orgasms that had her modus hiving and shaking and rising off the bed. Who knows what lascivious thoughts were intertwining that all of you inspired, and  that gave her that delicious wake up treat.

You all get an assist.

I was planning to spin that episode out a bit longer, and talk about how nice it was to be permitted to give her a few more orgasms with my “work-a-day” cock, before being permitted to come. 

But then there were further developments here in our little UCTMW remote location that moved that story below our cyber fold.

We spent the day on the ski mountain with the teens. Down here it’s scarily warm. All our snow has melted under the influence of the evil La Nina. But up on the mountain, about 2500 ft. above us, it was a winter wonderland of snow. 

We ignored the whining from the teens and skied until our legs said, “no mas.” 

Apres Ski, we were looking forward to some special “cuddle” time on our return, but duty intervened for both of us.

Each of us had nagging clients with their own pre-holiday emergencies. I dealt with mine via laptop and cell phone. Mistress was also on the phone, giving some well deserved back sass to an ornery client, and giving support to  staff member the client had unfairly berated.  I could tell she was agitated.  It was all in a day…. But…. Stressful.

By the time we were done, our R&R time was pretty much shot…. Old neighbors were coming over for dinner in about an hour, and Mistress had to primp.

As I climbed out of the shower, Mistress was glancing at her I-phone. 

“M says to tell you that Rex Ryan (bombastic Jets’ Coach) is in trouble over some on-line foot fetish videos, Slave.”

I laughed.

I’m going to tell him he can call us to tell you about it.”

Sure enough, M was soon on the phone, sharing the amusing details. It made us glad that we are not “public figures” who can be sucked into a public controversy over some on-line excess.

But before I handed the phone to Mistress, I mentioned to M that “our girl” may be in need of some stress relief, after an unpleasant hour on the phone with that impatient client.

He got the idea.

Mistress was on the bed, slathering moisturizer onto her lush body, while chatting with M. I went to my knees prying her legs apart.

There was not much resistance. 

Mistress’s  side of the dialog went something like this:

“M, the Slave’s on his knees and going at me, and I ‘m just trying to moisturize.”

“Mmmmm…. Yes, M…..”

“I understand…. M…”

At this point the bottle of moisturizer seems to have disappeared. Mistress is focused on M’s voice and what’s going on between her legs. I am suctioning her moist folds with my lips, my tongue pressing it’s advantage against her ripe clit.

“He’s really going at me M… “

Within moments, Mistress is bucking against my mouth, moaning into the phone.

I eased up a bit, but did not cease attending to her as she laid back on the bed, phone still pressed to her ear.

“It’s funny…. I always like it when Mick told me stories when we have sex…. but of course he can’t tell a story when he’s worshipping me like this…But now I have you telling me the stories and him worshipping … what more can a woman ask for….”

After that, another M story must have kicked in…. Mistress was doing her sexy  …”Yes….M….. I’d like that M “ again. Then soon falling over the edge into another robust cum for him, as I picked up the tempo.

There was a bit more talk. Slave, not having been dismissed, kept up his attentions, It had become a bit of a blurr by now.

I do recall Mistress saying….

“He’s like a human suction cup down there, M….”

That was just before her third orgasm.

Sadly, we were now running out of time, Mistress relieved me of my duties, with a gentle shove against my head.

“That really is enough, Slave….”

AS she finished up her chat with M, comparing notes on snow dumps at some ski  resorts in his neck of the mountain time zone,  I dressed and lit a warming fire for our soon to arrive guests.

When Mistress emerged from our room to greet them about 30 minutes later, looking ravishing in black dress, cowboy boots and silver and turquoise jewelry, I must say that the stress of her client conflict seemed to have been fully relieved.

That always makes this Slave feel like his daily mission has been accomplished.

When Sex Blog Universes Collide

Over the last few days, some of us who follow one another’s adventures (or aspirations for adventures) in the sex-blog-o-verse, seem to have been popping up on one another’s pages at a furious pace.

Maybe it’s because the WC finally got his computer back in action at our Mountain Zone UCTMW satellite office. Or because Mistress has been more obsessive than normal in chiming in with her own comments. As she told me the other day:

"The trouble is that our vanilla friends are so darn boring compared to our sex blog friends."

But it was particularly charming to see Suxanne’s Jay citing the WC’s tutorial on breaking in a virgin ass in yesterday’s episode of ALL MINE.
All Mine



Then the WC was egging Jay on, despite Suzanne’s apparent discomfort with the notion.


When Suzanne, who takes guff from no one without tossing it back with even more clever gusto, speculated about whether our WC would be willing to be on the receiving end. Both he and Mistress confirmed that he has expressed a willingness to turn those “cheeks”. if and when the opportunity arises.

Now that would be an interesting development. Mistress might have to go shopping for a “special occasion” dildo for her harness as a matter of symmetry.

There was some similar banter on PuppyTales earlier this week, when Mistress and Brooke compared notes on the risks of posting photos of their ling distance Master’s cocks.

Puppy Tales - Phone Sex

And Sin had a posting addressed to me talking about the challenges of a Poly relationship(s).

Finding My Submission - Dear Mick



All of this interaction among our blogging personas brings to mind my days in elementary school, when I was a comic book addict. And the biggest development that would make my little pre-adolescent jaw drop (other than the drawings of Wonder Woman about to ensnare some baddy with her golden lasso), was when a super-hero from the DC “world” would pop up with one of characters from the alternative Marvel Universe. Say…. The Hulk and Superman go at it to see who is stronger; or Green Lantern and Spider Man take on Sinestro and Dr. Octopus, while comparing notes on how their alter egos should handle their neurotic girl friends.

Our WC has sometimes suggested that our blog personas are sort of sexual super-heroes, out creating multiple orgasms in a single bound. And now our world’s are colliding all the more frequently –as Molly and Mick did a few weeks back with Aisha and D in their community dungeon.

Maybe we need to form a sort of sex bloggers Justice League with our own fancy high tech club house? At least in a virtual sense. The possibilities are endless.

We could share recipes and sex toys.

Compare notes on kinks and techniques.

Feud about which Slave's  job it is to clean the refrigerator.

Break into factions.

Hold elections.

Gossip about one another.

Trade costumes.

Ask Suzanne to show us the content of her diaper bag.

But if the WC invites his brother, let’s make sure he washes his hands frequently.

And from a Sub’s point of view, if we invite Ms. Marie, could we politely ask her to leave that dreaded rat trap at home in her own dungeon.



‘Nilla Mom --- I think this is another story idea!


you.

Full Moon Rising

Mistress woke yesterday in a troubled countenance.

I had a bad dream, Slave….”

Uh Ohhh..  I kind of knew what the subject was.

“I dreamed you left me….”

I wondered if all that talk about poly relationships and insecurities through comments on Sin’s blog the other day had reopened some subconscious paranoia for her.

“Of course, you know I won’t Mistress…. You are stuck with me.”

Then I tried to prove with tongue and cock that my devotion was still quite real. Hopefully it exorcised those demons, at least for a while.

After a morning of skiing, and some mid-afternoon R & R, the Collins clan headed into town for some grocery shopping, and to pick up some holiday gifts on order for us.

The little plaza was all lit up with farolitos and a full moon was rising over the dramatic mountain that  looms over this community, founded all those years ago as a staging area for ventures into the vast wilderness.

It’s the sort of scene that Molly and Mick swoon over. But our surly teens? Well…. From them it’s “when are we leaving…. It’s cold out…. And are we really going to have to drive all the way home?

I am a little concerned that they might conspire to poison one of us in order to get a Medivac flight back to River City.

We opted to drive this time because the airlines have rigged the pricing system for tickets so badly that holiday flights are absurdly expensive. And also to teach the teens something that they need to learn: life isn’t always about taking the cushiest solution to any specific problem.

But after we had filled two grocery carts with provisions for some big communal meals this week with visiting friends, we stopped for Pizza at a funky joint that makes a crust of spelt that Mistress is fond of, and  the teens were in a more chipper mood.  The elder teen even took some photos of Mistress on her I-phone between slices, scanning and responding to text messages, just like the teens do at many of our family meals.

“Who is texting you? “, they demanded to know. Mistress provided a cover story about her friend Sarah back home, but I suspected otherwise.

On the drive home, Mistress muttered to me, “Slave, do you mind if I call the WC when we get home…. He’s desperate to talk to me….”

Well it’s hard to imagine the WC putting it that way, macho dude that he is, but I got the point. Mistress was pleased to get the attention. And of course what sort of Slave would have the temerity to say “No”.  I did wonder if the girls had heard her call me “Slave” though.

So as one surly teen helped me stow our provisions, Mistress shuttered herself on our room. I put on some Christmas tunes to make sure her voice could not be heard on the other side of our door.

Once my tasks were done, I settled down in front of the fire place, with laptop and book. And soon Mistress joined me. She had some answers to the questions haunting our readers: how was it that M’s brother was able to slide his finger up the ass of not one, not two, but three suburban moms at that weekend party?

“He says that his brother is the happy-go-lucky sort, who’s always buying the drinks and taking folks to dinner…. So it would not be unusual if, after a few drinks, he would ask a woman if it was ok to slide his hand down the back of her pants.”

Ok, so it’s a strange Midwestern social obligation playing itself out…. and it’s just a matter of manual dexterity and happenstance that a finger ends up the subject’s ass once the initial permission is granted.

I don’t think I will be trying this trick at home…. But you have to admire the audacity.  This guy needs his own blog!

AS it turned out, Mistress and M just had a chat …. No orgasms involved.  But Mistress did share something else.

“I told M about my dream, Slave.”

“And what was his reaction….”

“He said I need to stop worrying about you… that you are devoted to me and would never leave me…that the blog is a great love story about the two of us.”

“It’s all true, Mistress.”  And I was glad that our WC had my back on this.

Because Mistress had not broken out the power tool in her conversation with M,  I felt she needed some therapeutic attention.

After she completed her evening ablutions, I offered to worship.

“That would be very nice, Slave….”

She settled back on our bed, in a black nightie, sans panties. Spreading her thighs, her well groomed folds were on wanton display for me.

Yum…