Mile (and a half) High Sex

Mick and Molly have been on the move, and are now at our undisclosed location in the shadow of the Sangre De Christo Mountains.

So here is an update on our travels.

Wednesday was Mick’s abstinence day. After giving Mistress the benefit of my hard, steel ringed cock before heading off to work, I was required to stew for the day, in a state of denial.  I can almost hear your moans of sympathy!

When we arrived home there was some fresh snow to shovel, but finally we were able to relax in bed before preparing some dinner for the teens.

Mistress asked if I had forgotten something….and I probably do try to bury my sexual impulses on abstinence day….

“Sorry, Mistress. Would you like me to worship you?”

“It’s About time, Slave.”

Just as I was helping her pull down those sheer black tights, to get access to her tasty parts, the phone rang. It was her Mother, a figure of somewhat intimidating authority in her own right.

I answered, made some obligatory small talk, then handed the phone to Mistress, who wanted to discuss some career developments with her mother.

But Mistress was still interested in worship, spreading her legs and indicating where I should kneel.

She laid back on the bed, chatting through developments, getting her Mother’s advice, and covering plans for the teens over the weekend.

Meanwhile I was on my assigned task, using lips and tongue to distract Mistress as best as I could.

Fortunately, Mistress is an accomplished multi-tasker. She was able to maintain her focus with her Mother, while I worked her through a series of little quaking, shuddering orgasms. Ultimately, she patted me on the head, like a little puppy being rewarded for retrieving the morning paper from the driveway. Sadly, that was the only reward I was to receive for some time.

We had an early flight in the morning, and Mistress seemed sated, so no more sexual hi-jinks that evening. Instead it was a little more of “Damages, Season One” then lights out.

Nor was there time for any release from my abstinence in the morning. Just off to the airport. Without an upgrade, we were confined to steerage, and  an annoying woman I know from civic life plopped down next to us. An inconvenient coincidence. So Mistress and Slave had to be in relatively good behavior for the long flight west. Bummer.

By the time we rolled our rent-a-car into our little town’s organic grocery’s lot to stock up on provisions, both Mistress and Slave were a bit spacey, and, well, randy.  We climbed out of the car, me dawdling a bit to lock up.

As I walked around the car toward Mistress, I noticed her clutching the arm of another man, blonde, rugged looking, closer to her age than mine, then, suddenly, she backed away.

She turned to me, blushing. The man made a comment, then walked on.

I raised a quizical eyebrow…

“Oh God. I thought it was you. I grabbed his arm  and called him “Slave”!

I laughed.

“And what did he say, Mistress?”

“I think you have the wrong guy”.

Naturally, we kept seeing this hunk-ster as we worked our way through the grocery store. Eye contact was scrupulously avoided. It was fun to see Mistress a bit humiliated for a change!

Once we were safely locked away in our adobe retreat, Mistress imposed a new rule for this weekend: I am to wear no pants or underwear while we are in the cabin alone.

“My cock needs to be accessible, Slave.”

And not long after our arrival, I adapted to her new rules.

Finally, the draught (all 48 hours of it) was coming to an end.

Mistress wanted my cock particularly hard, and instructed me to insert my little white probe. It had the desired impact, and I was thickening before I even slid into bed next to her.

I had the privilege of bringing Mistress to her first orgasm with my mouth, tasting her musky juices  through some skimpy black undies she acquired for Christmas.  Her randiness showed as she bucked enthusiastically across the bed in her final throws, unable to shake my clinging lips.

Then it was my turn to take her head on, stoking our fires a bit with talk about some folks we have introduced ourselves to  over Fetlife, and will meet “live” when we return back to River City. Pictures they posted earlier this week were food for some incendiary fantasy muttered between us. The result was a very, very hot explosion for both Mistress and Slave. A dramatic way to end my fast.

We spent the evening relaxing in bed, sipping some Jamieson, reading, watching a DVD, and were asleep early. It had been a long travel day.

But Slave and his cock seem to stay on East Coast for these brief trips. I found myself awake early, long before the sun rises over the Mountains. And Mistress was awake too.

“Is that a hard cock pressed against my ass, Slave?”

“Seems that way, Mistress.”

My hand snaked down between her legs, from behind. I began to gently stroke her there with greedy fingers, my lips against her neck. Changes in her breathing patterns told the tale of her arousal. And within moments, her firm bottom was bucking against me as she sailed over the edge.

I rose over her, pressing her facedown into the bed, and her fingers helped position  me to slide inside the passage that was so wet and welcoming.

I reminded her of the photo we had seen the night before. A naked woman on all fours, seen from behind. Her master standing over her, flogger ready to caress her, then force her to beg for the hard cock that was sure to come after some firm punishment.

All this talk had the desired effect. Mistress was soon shuddering, admitting how she would like to beg that very same way.

When we were done, Mistress was soon back to sleep. And she still is. It’s still a dark, moonless night here at 7800 feet.

But we have a busy Ski day ahead.