Returning to Reality

Mistress and Slave had one last glorious sunset last night before we pack up this morning and head back to the grim flatlands of River City. Our readers and facebook compadres may get tired of those sunset shots, but apparently we never get tired of taking them, or watching them from our porch.

We ended the evening here in proper form: dinner at a lovely little restaurant just down the street, followed by some long, slow and passionate love making here in our bed.

It may be a while until we are back here together. We've front loaded a good deal of our vacation this year to push the boundaries on ski days (the secret we won't tell the folks back at the office: more than 30 days on the slopes this season). But we will try to take the spirit of the mountains back with us.

Somehow during our last day I forgot to tune in to see how Suzanne's team faired against Syracuse. When I finally figured out the score, I was wondering: when did the Warriors reestablish their football program? It seemed more like a football than a basketball score. That part of the Big East this Slave will not miss!  Sorry Suzanne, at least they got farther than my lads. But there are always the ladies to root on!

Back in River City, I suspect it will take a while for us to come up for air. Many items have been back-burnered and will have to be thawed then re-heated. So you may not get an update for a few days.

Of course  Mistress has some upcoming interactions with several AM prospects, including her potential latin lover, who has spent the weekend persuading her that a nearly 15 year age difference is not a problem for what he has in mind. I am sure Mistress will give him a fair hearing, maybe with demonstrative evidence, before she pronounces her verdict.

So for now, happy trails to all of you. And one more picture: we have moon rises as well as sunsets out here in the high desert:

Mistress's Corresponding Secretary

With only a day left out here, we crammed a little too much activity into our Friday in the shadow of the Sangre de Christo Mountains. Of course there was morning sex, then a day of skiing under scattered clouds and bright sun. Then some apres ski music by our friend, a local troubadour.

After a shower, a brief nap, and appreciating another glorious big sky sunset, we went out for Mistress's favorite meal here -- spelt pizza with goat cheese and mushrooms. Then more music at a new local brewery / restaurant on the mesa only a few hundred yards from the Rio Grande.  Amazingly we were out after 11 pm, way past our normal d time.

And through the day, it was Slave's job to keep up on some correspondence between Mistress and a couple of potential suitors.

With the ski season ending, and Mistress's relationship with Jay having evolved into more of a "pals" thing, well, her eye has begun to wander. So after our daughter went back to campus, she suggested I re-open her AM posting.

"But this time, Slave.... I'm expecting you to manage all of this.... filter out the losers, bring ones to my attention that appear to have potential .... and be in charge of the correspondence."

Of course, there is a bit of a thrill in being ordered to manage your wife's courtships of potential cuckolders, isn't there?

I updated Mistress's profile, making it clear that her standards are high. I've been cruelly deleting pretenders, and folks just looking for smutty photos. And over the week we've filtered things down to three folks with enough potential for Mistress to consider a lunch or drink on our return.

The most persistent fellow is the guy we have dubbed the "Latin Lover", who despite Mistress's initial rejection because he is too young - only 35 - has been dogged enough in his entreaties  to peak Mistress's interest. His pictures certainly made Mistress take notice. And he works only a few blocks from Mistress's own office. It made him a little too hard for Mistress to automatically leave on the cutting room floor.

LL was sending emails yesterday as we were skiing and out for dinner, I would read them to her, and Mistress would smirk a bit, then dictate to me her response.  One exchange involved where they would meet for lunch next Thursday.  Mistress named a nearby venue. He responded

"Yes, please."

"Ask him who should make the reservation, Slave.... him or you"

I followed her orders, which seemed to get a certain response.

"Oh you bad girl...."

Mistress's response:

"You think I'm fooling?"

You can see where this was headed.

But Mistress did ask me to pose this question to our discerning readers....

"Ask them whether I'm crazy even to consider getting involved with someone 15 years younger, Slave?"

So what do you think?

Livin' Large

Mistress and Slave are in the "Final Throes" of our two week "recess", as Dick Cheney might put it. We've enjoyed the advent of spring here, particularly with our sullen College girl back to campus where she belongs.

It's finally warmed up and we've settled into a routine that includes a little work in the AM, sex, sun, skiing, more sun, more sex, and then some dinner, either here or in a local watering hole. And as you can see, Mistress has found a way to work on that lineless tan, (I had to sneak up on her while on a conference call to take this shot.

In the meantime, Mistress has been following the blog reported adventures of her Mountain Man, who is now treking those last 50 miles or so to Everest base camp. And he must me tracking her too... Yesterday she breathlessly reported that he had "liked"  a photo she had posted of a Ski Patrol rescue dog.

"Hmmm.... just think Mistress. Somewhere on a dusty trail in Nepal, at maybe 19,000 feet, MM was sipping some fermented Yak milk, flipped open his lap-top, hooked up the satellite internet link and bothered to check out your FB feed! Pretty impressive!"

"Do you think so, Slave....."

Poor Mistress. She has a case.

Now you might think that we've broken all records for the good life while out here. But our neighbor has set a standard that will be very hard to match.

JM was a Jewish youngster in Vichy France during the Nazi occupation. He survived that to come here in the mid-1950's to build a ski lodge and start the local ski school. THose were the days when ski fashions were a little different, and the bindings were leather thongs.

Over the years he burned through about 5 wives and fathered more than a dozen kids. Supposedly there once was a local bumper sticker that said "Honk if you're JM's kid". He clearly was a rakish charmer back in the day, though he is only about 5'4".  Here he is with his younger brother, probably back in the early 1960's:
Now JM must be approaching 80. But despite a horrific ski accident last season on opening day, Mistress and Slave spotted him out on the Mountain this week, teaching some gringos in that French accident the proper way to handle some big assed moguls with the proper style. Just like he does when racing down the mountain in classic out on the edges form. Somehow I suspect the old guy has not lost his way with the ladies anymore than he has lost his form on the slopes. Now that is something for an aging Slave to aspire to!

Empty Nest Frolic

Out here at our Mountain Hideaway, Mistress and Slave have been doing some things that would have been "sketchy". according to our daughter who "sadly" is no longer with us.

The door to the "executive suite" no longer has to be closed.

On Sunday, Slave broke out the Hitachi, no having to worry about prying ears hear that buzz or the moans of delight it produced.

Monday afternoon, Mistress required me to insert the aneros and enjoyed riding the extra hard cock it produced, oblivious to the enthusiastic sounds it produced from both of us.

Then there was the naked sunbathing yesterday afternoon. It may only have been in the high 50's but the sun was intense, and Mistress could not resist working on that all over glow she relishes.

But the best example of what you can get away with when there is no judgmental teen tutting away: Mistress in her skimpy nighties scampering across our front "yard" dodging Prairie Dog holes in order to catch one more dramatic sunset shot:

Free At Last

It was 3 degrees here Sunday morning in the Sangre De Christo Mountains when we headed off to the nearest airport, our beloved spring breaker in tow. Now she is safely back in her dorm. We hope she enjoyed the company fo her parents over the last week, though the jury is still out. We know we enjoyed seeing her .... for at least a few days too. Our daughter may see her parents as some alien creatures, sort of like this character ... probably an image of a cranky, demanding parent carved by some teenaged Anasazi punk on a rock about 1000 years ago, who we found on our hike outside of ABQ when we got here 9 days ago:

On the drive back we were doing the highway happy dance.... it was a beautiful day for seeing the mountains, mesas and blue sky, and Mistress and Slave were empty nesters again.

"It's like our vacation is starting all over again, Mistress...."

"Finally, Slave....."

Taking that drive back north to our hideaway was like hitting the re-set button, though we did dutifully follow our daughter's slow progress East, making sure that she was not rejected for surliness and returned to us by Delta.

Back at home, Mistress wrapped herself in an old Mexican blanket and laid out on our patio, while Slave persued another Apparently unsuccessful remedy to find a "Final Solution" the the Prairie dogs digging up our front "yard".

"You'll just have to wait a little longer for sex, Slave..... this sun is just too nice."

I was happy to wait patiently until that cool wind and some scattered clouds drove Mistress indoors, where I had already readied her favorite power tool.

Mistress slid into some sheer sleepwear and slid into bed where we cuddled and canoodled for a while, no having to worry about the tender ears of a 19 year old offended by the sounds of her parents engaged in passionate endeavors.

Then Slave had Mistress role over onto her tummy so I could apply the Hitachi from behind. Here's my birdseye view:

Her leg and ass muscles tensed and re-tensed, as she took her "punishment", and soon she was even asking my permission to come, remembering that it was a Switch Day here in our cozy, empty cabin.

Witnessing her moans of delight and the undulations of her ass after I gave her my permission was reward enough, I suppose. Though rest assured that I took other forms of pleasure from her before our afternoon was through.

Biding our Time

Mistress and Slave have had about enough of our spring-breaker here at our Mountain Hideaway. We find that after about four days of feeding and entertaining her, and listening to her rants about a variety of things that annoy her.... from visa requirements, to drones, to bad skiers, to the local bars that are reluctant to serve a 19 year old.... well, we are more than ready to send her back to campus.

Not that we've been unable to squeeze in some pleasure.... we've kept to a pretty steady two-a-day schedule even with her here, but one has to keep down the noise and listen to her complain about how all we do is "sleep".

Well a late after noon, apres ski "nap" makes good sense doesn't it?

In the meantime, I suspect Mistress has been saving up reasons to give her Slave a cropping, and I was happy to realize that we should get back from dropping our little bundle of whines off at the airport in time for a proper switch day on Sunday!

The sad news is that Mistress's fantasy Mountain Man has bid adieu to our parts and is now on his way to Katmandu for the Everest Climbing Season.  Suzanne suggested that Mistress tag along, but the price tag quoted for the tour he is guiding is $60,000 a pop. But that does include 70 days "lodging" in a tent at altitudes above 18,000 feet, and all the Yak steaks you can eat.

"I bet they have groupies at base camp, Mistress...."

"I'm sure they do, Slave."

Maybe she could sign on as a "service provider".

Fortunately for me, Mistress has not yet booked her flight, and we still have a week to go out here before skulking back to River City to discover whether we still have jobs. And while the weather has been rather cold so far (though not as snowy as that Soccer Match last night up in the WC's hometown), we look forward to a warming spell so Mistress can work on that "no tan lines" tan on our deck.

Finally, I want to apologize to Suzanne for her unfortunate selection fo my alma mater on her NCAA Men's bracket. You should have asked, Suzanne! Those lads are firmly entrenched in the "One and Done" column. Overly Pampered Pussies is what I was calling them last night when I exposed myself to about 15 minutes of their  sad N(o )D(efense) performance.

Now the ladies team? That's a different story. They are the Dommes on that campus. The "men's" team should be required to launder their undies and fill any other personal needs they may have during their tourney run, all the way to the Final Four.

Mountain Man

Mistress got us 2nd row seats in the bar at the Ski Area on Tuesday once the lifts shut down. She was there to see, listen to and (if possible) flirt with her hero, the guy we will call the Mountain Man. He's a part time ski patroller on our Mountain, but his real gig is "Super Hero", guiding groups willing to pay $38,000 or more a pop to climb mountains in Antarctica, the Himilayas, and Alaska.

As it turned out MM was funny, charming, and entertaining, showing off his slideshow of recent ventures to Everest, Denali and Kilimanjaro. Though Mistress was a little concerned when he kept mentioning some other woman, a doctor, who accompanied him to Africa this winter and was shown popping back a dislocated shoulder of some Tanzanian "bearer" along a rocky trail.

When the presentation ended, MM was surrounded with followers, and our "spring-breaker" who had been bored for most of the show, was demanding to be fed. So Mistress was unable to linger for a little face time.

But all was not lost: yesterday, after Mistress posted something on her facebook page speculating about whether some chip on her Arctyrx jacket would save her in the event of an avalanche, MM appeared out of cyberspace and commented back! He said the local Ski Patrol would be happy to save her, after all the T-shirts she had bought at the Ski Patrol shack over the years.

s you might expect, Mistress was on slow simmer for the rest of the day after that.  And she almost needed rescuing after she and our surly boarder girl decided to make the 1/5 hour trek to the "Peak" for the views and the long challenging ski down. (The pictures shows what that trek looks like... Slave's done it before and well... let's just say I'm not crazy).

Naturally, the boarder left her mother in the dust on the way up. But Slave waited dutifully for Mistress at the bottom of the run as she made the long ski down in deep, barely tracked snow. (yes, folks, that picture at the top shows the run they came down, from the very top).

At home, Mistress showed me her FB messages with MM.

"DO you think he's flirting with me, Slave?"

"I don't know what else to call it, Mistress".

Sadly, it may be a while before we find out. MM is heading to Nepal for the Everest climbing season on Friday! And the surly boarder is here until Sunday.

Bummer for Mistress. I'll just have to hep her forget him.

A Chilly St. Patrick's Day

In these parts that old saying about March as both lamb and lion can play out in a single day, as we learned here yesterday.

The day started with Slave eating his breakfast out on the patio in bright sunshine, after some lovely St. Patrick's Day wake-up sex.

But by the time we got up to the ski mountain, dark clouds had gathered and the wind was whipping something fierce. There was even some fresh snow to ski on.  Sadly, we had underdressed for the occasion, and were pretty danged cold.  Mistress and Slave, if they had their druthers, would have beat a hasty retreat down the mountain for some "indoor fun". But our daughter whined that she only had a week to ski and therefore she was not going to be cowed by some hurricane strength winds and a white out.

Fortunately, even she had more of this bone chilling weather  than she could handle by around 2 pm, allowing us to throw in our frozen neckgaters and call it a day.

Back at the cabin, Mistress and Slave had a good excuse to brew some tea and retreat to our bed for some "shared bodily warmth".  We came up for air around 7 pm, and headed to a local bar to celebrate our Irish heritage.

Fortunately, the venue was lively, with good music and dancing. It was so much better than the stuffy affair I typically attend on St. Patrick's Day back in River City, a room full of "Friendly Sons", all in tuxedos, trying to impress one another with how important they are.  This was just pure fun and frolic, in the shadow of our beautiful snow dusted mountains.

Our not yet 20 "spring breaker" was happy that she was not carded, and that her Dad could order some alcoholic beverages for her. She even got asked to dance by some local who looked twice her age.

She bashfully demurred.

Fortunately, the sun is out again this AM, and should be out for a good chunk of the week.

On today's agenda is an apres ski slideshow by the Ski Patrol member that Mistress has been lusting for these last few years.  He's the guy who "summers" on Mt. Everest, and spend some of this winter climbing and treking in Antarctica. Mistress has been stalking him on facebook.

Last night, a mutual admirer of this mountain man mentioned to both of us that she would be at tonight's presentation of his latest adventures, drooling from the front row if possible.

"You don't need to me there, Mick. I think Molly and I can handle it."

"Don't worry",  I said, "I'm just happy to watch....."

I wasn't sure if in her St. Patrick's Day buzz, she got my meaning.

No Tell Motel

Mistress and Slave called an "audible" late yesterday afternoon.

We had arrived in ABQ shortly after noon, planning a day of local site-seeing before picking up our "spring breaker" after 11 pm then making the drive up to our mountain hideaway.

We walked around the scenic "Old Town", saw a "flash mob" of Indian dancers, and had a late and filling New Mexican lunch at an old hacienda, built in 1706, that has been a restaurant now for generations.

Then we took a hike through an old Canyon littered with native American petroglyphs. The sun was out, the setting was arid, and by the end of the two mile loop, both of us were parched and a little tired.

It had already been a long day.

And without any sex.

Huh?

That's when Slave introduced some improvisation.

What if we skip a fancy dinner and just check into a sleazy motel, Mistress..... a 5 hour stay that will give us a chance to 'unwind' before that long drive north."

It did not take Mistress long to see the genius of my new plan.

"That's the best idea you've had in a long time, Slave."

Glad to know I am still hitting on all cylinders every now and then for an old guy.

We found a properly sleazy setting, checked in with little baggage, just like in our old "on the side" days, and soon stripped away our dusty jeans and shirts.

Mistress's folds had that well exercised taste that Slave particularly appreciates. And after I had pleased her with my lips and tongue, she ended that long, nightmarish 36 hours of abstinence for her Slave.

We napped a bit, and I made sure to pleasure Mistress one more time before we skulked out of the hotel at around 11 pm to collect our daughter.

The desk clerk saw us sliding out.

"Leaving so soon?"

We made some seemingly lame excuse about picking up our daughter at the airport, But I suspect he quickly filed us under "sleazy affair, both going home to their spouses after a Friday night fling."

"I don't think he bought it Slave".

"I can live with that, Mistress."

Missed Opportunity

Mistress and Slave are jetting west as I type this, exploiting the overpriced and underspeedy in flight wifi to reach out to our dozens of regular followers.

We were up so early that we had to forego our regular wake-up sex, which means your editor has  actually gone 24 hours without an orgasm to speak of (though Mistress did get some worship through the aperture of her peek-a-boo tights last night when we got home a little later than normal from a social / political event.

After We packed up I switched on the opening minutes of the dreaded confrontation on the hard court between my own alma mater and Suzanne's own Alma mater. It made me realize that I had forgotten to communicate the terms of a potential UCTMW v. All Mine wager on the outcome of the game.

I figured my team, ranked 24 deserved some points against her team, ranked 12. They had split home and home games in the regular season. I would have asked for a 10 pt. spread, but would have been prepared to settle at 5. Heck if browbeaten by Suzanne, I might have taken a straight up bet, with no points for the obvious underdogs.

But what about the stakes?

I know Suzanne would have wanted to propose something involving me in a cock cage for several days. But that would have unfairly denied Mistress the pleasures of her work-a-day cock. So unfair!

But what about spanks: 10 for me with the crop if my my team lost, with the sentence executed by Mistress Molly.

And if Suzanne's team lost? 10 for her via wooden spoon, imposed by Jay.

I doubt he would mind playing his role, since he had no dog in this particular hunt.

I suppose I could have emailed Suzanne once I realized the game was starting. But then I saw those puke green uniforms and watched as my lads fell behind by double digits within minutes.

Sending up rocks at the basket!

I turned off the TV in disgust, glad that I had not been suckered into that wager after all.

But when I awoke this am, before jumping into the shower with Mistress I checked the score:  my team had rallied and won going away.

Suzanne, you would have taken that bet, right? 

Admit it.

And if so, well Jay.... go for it.

The WC's Story Continues

Mistress and Slave have been working hard this week, trying to log hours at work before we escape once again tomorrow morning to out Mountain Hideaway. We’ll be meeting Cute Co-Ed II at the airport late Friday evening, then heading up into the Mountains for some spring skiing.  With her around we will have to keep the sexcapades low key, at least for the first week of our “fortnight” away.  But the sun, snow and views are always an inspiration, even if we have to keep it confined to our room and come out for air to keep her amused.

In the meantime, our Western Correspondence shows that at least his imagination is on the mend, as he continues his kinky fantasy about Molly at his neighborhood sex club:

Well there would be some smokin’ hot Dommes at the party

One would come up and grab the back of your hair and pull you head back and kiss you deeply 

“Can I sit on this pretty little things face?”

“Sure .... which hole???”

“Both”

“Fine with me” 

Molly you would be soaking wet as that Domme forced you to service her

I would have her turn around facing your feet and pull your legs wide open

Holding you open with her elbows

I would take out my cock and force it deep up your cunt

It would hurt and stretch  you wide open

But I would ignore your pleas to go easy and force my cock deep inside you

Taking my pleasure

Caring little about your own

“Should I fuck her ass?”, I would ask the Domme

“Absolutely, here is some lube”

“I want to feel her moan on my clit”

You would struggle and try to get away but we were too strong for you

My finger would push deep up yoursass and I would slather my cock with lube

I would gently but firmly push my cock up your ass and you moaned and wiggled against her clit

She would reach back and grab your hair pulling your face against her, cumming all over your face

As I took your bottom

To be continued

Thanks for the contribution, Miguel. I hope you don’t mind me adding a few quotation marks. Sometimes I just can't help myself!

Caged Cocks Go Mainstream

Over at All Mine, Suzanne and her many admirers (I will be polite and not call them drooling sycophants), have been chattering this week about all the supposed benefits of orgasm denial. And it's obvious that for some the long weeks of denial have their charm. Some may never understand the need for the Caged Cock Bill of Rights, we've been promoting in this page.

As it turns out, Slave was required to wear his cage yesterday.

"Slave, since we're not driving together, you'll be in the cage...."

But there was some bracing wake-up sex before I was "shut down" for the day. ANd Mistress liberated the little guy once we were home and headed out for a bike ride.

"We wouldn't want him damaged on the bike frame, would we, Slave."

ANd this morning, even though we had a particularly early wake-up call, Mistress made sure we were able to slip in a "quickie". So, as you can see,  this Slave remains pampered and indulged. Mistress's operating theory appears to be that I will be more docile and less surly if over rather than under-orgasmed.

Vive Le Difference!

Oddly, last night, as we say down to catch up with some languishing episodes of Californication, we stumbled upon an episode that must have aired a month ago:

Marcy, the foul mouthed smurf, was requiring her estranged Hollywood Producer husband to wear a cock cage as a condition for getting back together. It seems his cock had found its way into the mouth of some starlet during several moments of weakness.

Here is the video clip:

"It's a Cock Cage"

It looks like one of those plastic models, tinted silver to look like the stainless steel industrial strength type that this Slave wears as required.

Maybe I can work in an appearance next season touting my Bill of Rights!

The Tables Are Turned

Of course, Mistress certainly knew that when she applied her riding crop to my squirmy butt on a Saturday evening, the memories would linger at least through our Sunday switch day.  I think she was sending a message, don't you?  That I had been a little too reserved in exercising my switch-leges these last few weeks.

Well I did not want to disappoint her.  So after we submissively let the socialists in Washington dictate us into all moving our time pieces forward yesterday morning, Mistress found herself bound face down on our bed, secured by those red leather wrist cuffs that go so well with her manicure.

You can see how all that spinning and biking makes for  very firm ass and thighs!

I "spared the crop", but made sure she got a nice firm hand spanking, inspired, I suppose by the WC's little fantasy about the biker at Scarlet Ranch posted here yesterday. By the time I was done, that little ass was squirming, and Mistress was whining.

"Ewww... that hurts, Slave."

I doubt it hurt quite as much as the ten strokes I got the night before, but I did not want to press my luck by "escalating" to the point where retaliation might be cruel and imminent. We'll leave that to the crazies on the Korean Peninsula.

After Mistress got a good dozen or so spanks, I slid down her panties to get a good view and prepare her for the "treat" I had planned.

As you can see, she had a nice little red glow going on that contrasts nicely with the cream color of her lingerie, and the pearly white of her favorite power tool.

Rest assured that I dragged our Mistress's "torment" for a while at first denying her plaintive cry for permission to cum, before succumbing to her sad horny plight.

And after she had her fill, well I chased it with a little intrusion from her work-a-day cock, taking her first from behind, and then, after rolling her over, in the more conventional way.

Hopefully, Mistress's not no subtle hint that it was time for her Slave to Switch-Up properly was fulfilled!

He's BAAAACK!

Slave got a rather cruel cropping last night from Mistress, resulting from an unfortunate turn of phrase I used over dinner that she found to be impertinent. And in retrospect, I it was certainly a poor choice of words on my part.  My ass still tingles a bit this morning. I do find it encouraging that she took firm and deliberate (if painful) action to deal with my transgression rather than sulk about it!

But I have to wonder… why would Mistress give her Slave a cropping on a Saturday night, unless she was hankering for some serious “pay-back” on Switch Day? It really makes sense in a Freudian sort of way doesn’t it?  I’ll try to make sure not to disappoint her this morning!

But today’s post isn’t about me whining about a tender bottom, it marks the return to this page after a long and convoluted convalescence of our Western Correspondent. He purportedly was at “Muerte’s” door any number of times over the last few months according to the scrawled notes in Spanglish of some “Doctor” who signed off as “Fredo”, that occasionally arrived by fax everytime we threatened to cancel his Amex card these last few months. Quite frankly, we were afraid Miguel would never wank again, let alone generate any more column inches for this fading media empire.

But just when we had given all hope, and were prepared to shut off the utilities at our Mountain Zone satellite office once and for all, Mistress received the following under her electronic transom, indicating that, at least, our WC has gotten back some of his “faculties”:

Had a hot fantasy about you this morning

And had a great orgasm!

Thought about you coming to Denver and I took you to the ranch on 50 shades night

For the drive there you would be naked with your hands cuffed behind your back but with a long coat on till we go inside

Then we would check your coat with the coat check girl and I would put a collar and leash on you

I would lead you up to the bar with everyone watching you

We would stand next to a very tough looking but handsome biker guy

He would say “may I ?”

“Sure...”

He would grab your breasts and squeeze them 

Also pinch you nipple hard as you gasped and your cunt flooded with moisture 

He would take a big thick finger and shove it up your cunt

And then make you lick it clean

“She is a horny bitch isn't she….”

Clearly........”

“Can I put her over my knee ?”

“Sure ….”

I would love watching as he blistered your bare bottom

As you screamed and fussed

He would pull your ass cheeks wide open and look at you jamming his finger up your cunt

And once lubricated up your ass

“Can I fuck her?”

“Not till I do....”

He would give you one final swat and the grab your hair and pull you off him

“Well then I am done with her….” 

I would sit on the couch and order you down to your knees and take out my cock and balls

“Worship it Slave!!!”

You would slobber all over my cock as I pushed it down your throat

Fucking hot Molly........

Many people would be watching as all this happened

“Enough “….I said as I zipped up

“I want to cum in your cunt or ass later”

I would lead you by the leash around the party letting men and women fondle your breast, cunt and asshole

Some of the women would take particular delight in rubbing your clit, pinching your nipples and pushing their fingers up both you holes

Grabbing your hair and making you say how much you liked it

Now this is where the story ends on the email that Mistress forwarded to me…. Maybe there is a 2^nd chapter coming? Or maybe Mike got a little “distracted” at this point in the narrative.

But at least we now know he’s “cuming around…” so to speak.

Spring Arrives in River City

Mistress and Slave were slogging through snow on Wednesday. But by Friday it seemed that Spring had arrived in River City.

After our AM wake-up sex I went off to work. The sun was actually out! Mistress was working from home, but the sun was out and I knew she was headed for an early spinning class before some tedious conference calls.

Fortunately, a meeting I had set for late Friday afternoon (who the fuck calls meetings late on a Friday afternoon?) fell through.

"Mistress, what say we go for a bike ride?"

While it may have only been just south of 50, the sun was doing wonders for our attitudes.

Mistress was just wrapping up a call when I slid into our bedroom at around 5. She still had those spinning clothes on, so it was a quick change for me and we were out on our bikes for the first time this year.  It sure felt nice to be exercising outside again after a rather gray winter here in River City.

Back at home it was hard to decide whether to dive into those clean shaven folds before or after we shared a shower. Of course, Slave likes Mistress a little "gamey". On the other hand, Slave was a little ripe too. We opted for the shower.

But afterwards... there was plenty of time for Slave to worship. and then Mistress required me to insert "my device".

"It always make your cock harder, Slave."

And surely that's exactly what Mistress deserved.

Torn from Today's Headlines

Over at All Mine they've been doing lots of spanking of late.  Apparently they're not the only ones:

Landlord Charged with Spanking Tenant Over Late Rent

Snow Day

It actually snowed in River City yesterday - the first real snow of the winter, though only a paltry 3 or 4 inches. It was wet and heavy, clinging to the trees and bushes.

But it did allow local schools to use one of those reserve snow days, and provided a good excuse for Mistress and Slave to "phone it in", through the AM.

That meant a little extra hang around in bed time.

Mistress had slept in the peek-a-boo tights, which I had been allowed to fuck her in the evening before.

"It's a little cold Slave.... you don't mind if I wear them to bed do you?"

Duuuuh.

That meant that I was allowed to feast on her after my morning coffee, and then press her work-a-day cock home through that sexy aperture with her full permission. The texture of those tights sliding against my thighs and balls is always .... compelling.

We need more snow days!

Free at Last! And a Movement is Born

After a long, uphill battle, the tireless struggles of the Tammy liberation movement have finally born fruit.... late yesterday afternoon, word filtered out from behind the tall foreboding walls over at  All Mine  that Suzanne had finally relented in her cruel and unusual punishment and released Tammy's "clitty cock" from its close caged confines after 15 brutal days of denial, spanking and forced oral pleasuring of the entire cast of characters there.

I want to thank all of you who rallied to Tammy's cause. But for your efforts, I suspect her punishment could have gone on for what? At least another few days?

No doubt Tammy's plight will go down in sex blog annals as comparable to the long and heartless solitary incarceration of Nelson Mandella on Robben Island at the hands of the South African apartheid regime. And while Tammy may have thought she was alone and isolated in her suffering, well let's hope by now that she knows that the (sex-blog) world was galvanized by her plight and rallied to her side.

The Whole World Was Watching!

Thankfully, Tammy was released before we had  to resort to civil disobedience, such as mass protests displaying caged and liberated cocks at all "March Madness" venues, as we had been scheming until we heard the "uplifting" news. 

Of course, our movement does not end here.

It is just a beginning.

The "Tammy Liberation Movement" will now evolve into the "Cock Liberation Movement". Tammy is now the "Rosa Parks" of our movement - That historic figure who's quiet courage  finally got the ball rolling.

Of course, We will need a logo, a 501(c)(3) entity to accept tax deductible contributions, and maybe even a Super PAC to fund lobbying and TV attack ads in the next election cycle. Our goal is clear and we will not be deterred. We must convince the Congress to adopt and the President to sign into law the

CONFINED COCK BILL OF RIGHTS:

1. No cock shall be caged for longer than 7 days without an intervening 24 hours of freedom.
2. No Wearer of a Cock Cage Shall be Simultaneously Forced to Wear a Butt Plug or Be Subject to Strap On Play.
3. During the at least weekly  24 Hour Release Period, the Caged Cock Will be Granted Full "Exercise Privileges".
4. The Caged Cocked Confinee shall have access to the lubricant of his choice throughout his confinement to reduce chafing.
5. Like professional Tennis players, the Caged Cock Confinee can call a "time out" for medical attention and treatment as needed. (But if the time out is deemed a bogus effort to rattle his Mistress, then confinement can continue for an additional 7 days).
6. Any Mistress imposed "equipment change" can allow the Caged Cock Confinee to trigger an immediate end to a round of confinement (The Rory McIlroy rule).

I suspect once we focus group this Bill of Rights, we can add some additional bells and whistles. Maybe we can exploit the popular Zeitgeist by call this "COCK SEQUESTRATION" instead of Confinement?

The possibilities are endless. I may contact Rachel Maddow's booker to kick this movement off with a bang.

As an aside, I must say that one thing about Suzanne's liberation posting sparked my curiosity.

She mentioned that over the 15 days of his ordeal, Tammy's chastity device was  locked with one of those numbered plastic locks, rather than the keyed lock she typically uses.

Was that because she didn't trust Sherry, her designated keyholder / babysitter to keep her hands off Tammy's cock?

Just wondering.

Improvisatory Switch Day

Mistress and Slave are back in River City, once again, deep in the midst of another  crazy work week.

But our Sunday on the Cute Co-Ed's College town was relatively laid back. We took full advantage of the lake view suite at that old state park lodge. And while I did not pack all of the accouterments of a proper Switch Day, I was able to improvise.

A belt from a fluffy robe was used to bind Mistress's hand in front, and then to the post of the bed.

And then I surprised Mistress with her favorite power tool, packed surreptitiously at the bottom of my bag.

"Oh, Slave.... a treat."

I suppose I could have spanked her, but she'd been a good girl all week. ANd she certainly looked fetching in the cute nightie I had bought her for V Day, her lovely breasts peeking out in her bound "discomfort".

So I just gave her one of those slow building mega-cums that had her begging for permission before she was allowed to take her full measure of pleasure.

And after that.... well I made sure to take my full measure of pleasure too.

After our wake-up sexual interlude,  we planned to just chill at the Lodge until it was time for the birthday dinner for our newly minted 21 year old.  But she surprised us with a call at around noon.  She and a friend who had driven in from another college town for the birthday celebration were "bored".  So they drove out to check out our Lodge. They even brought along some guy who seems to be our daughter's kind-of-boyfriend. But a walk in the lightly falling snow down by the lake soon had them ready to head back to campus, leaving the two staid old parents to their own (secretly perverse) devices for the balance of the afternoon.

Dang.

Sorority Moms Gone Wild

Mistress and her devoted slave are up here outside our daughter's college town, staying at an old State Park lodge. We ended up with a rather plush room looking out onto a gray lake under gray skies. Not exactly the Sangre de Christo Mountains where we started our Sunday a week ago, but then you can't have it all can you?

My job yesterday was to ferry Mistress and our daughter to a Mother / daughter sorority event, come back to our room and chill, and then pick them up around 8 pm for dinner. Back at our room, I was able to catch the final sad moments of my alma mater's basketball loss to Suzanne's alma mater. The final score made the game seem closer than it really was.

Fortunately, I did not bite on the last minute bet Suzanne proposed.

It involved some "cage free" time for Tammy if my team won, to be traded for some additional time in the cage for me if Suzanne's team won.

Now as much as I am a leader of the "Tammy Liberation Movement", I am no fool. I knew that Suzanne's team had won 24 games in a row at home. While my lads had beaten them at home earlier in the season, I figured there were very long odds against a season sweep on Suzanne's  home court.

Plus I was not sure how Mistress would react if, when she had a hankering to ride her work-a-day cock, I had to explain it was locked away for the next few days under terms of a bet I'd negotiated with Suzanne without her clearance.

There'd be "some 'splainin to do", as Ricky Ricardo might put it.

Of course, if our teams should meet in the Conference tournament, maybe the three of us can work something out.

Around 8 pm, I collected Mistress and our daughter at the dorm and we headed off to dinner - the three of us and another girl. But we were turned away at a local sushi joint, flooded with Co-Eds and their Moms up for various sorority affairs.

It gave me a chance to size up the other Mothers, and hear Mistress's eyebrow arched commentary.

Sure enough, lots of big haired, fake blonde college girl wannabes, all tarted up, anxious to show their daughters' friends and the other moms that they can still suck down jello shots like they did in their "glory days".

They made the ND alum at a campus bar before a big football game seem low key by comparison.

In contrast, Mistress was dressed more elegant than preppy. But what was not obvious?  She had worn her special "peek-a-boo" tights to make for a better worship opportunity when we got back to our room.

Nor do I suspect that the other Moms were getting sext messages during their dinners from a 40 year old, very buff local wanting Mistress to drop by after dinner so he could "suck on those beautiful, full nipples."

As it turned out, I was the lucky one. Mistress turned down D's invitation to "stop by" his nearby apartment so we could get back to our "lake view suite". It came with one of those over sized tubs where we had a long soak after Mistress finally got the worship she so clearly deserved.

Then we adjourned to out bed, where Mistress rode the (fortunately for both of us) uncaged cock that had been waiting so patiently for her through the afternoon. So while the other sorority moms were getting sloppy drunk at the sleazy college bars last night, Mistress was scoring a few more cums.

We've not much to do here until our 6 pm birthday dinner for our daughter.  I suspect we won't get bored.

Weekend Update

Yes, friends, we did ultimately make it home from our Southwestern hideaway Monday evening, though we might as well have driven, surfing ahead of that bad-assed blizzard that sloshed through Oklahoma and Kansas early this week, rather than wait on those long security lines for the privilege of riding a crop duster back to the heartland.

And since then, we've been a little too buried in work and family matters to do any proper kink to share with you here.

We warned you there might be weeks like this.

Poor Mistress spent Wednesday on a mad dash via US Air from River City to Long Island and back to meet with a client. With a schedule like that, it's no wonder we've been on a 1 a day regime these last few days.

Though there is hope.

This weekend we are heading up to our cute Sorority girl's little college town. Mistress will be going to a Mom / Daughter sorority event this evening, and we'll be hosting a dinner Sunday evening for some of her friends to celebrate her 21st Birthday.  But in between time, there should be plenty of opportunities for a little "nookie". 

Mistress considered inviting her former consort D (remember "cougar week"?) to join us for a drink, since he lives in said College town. But we will see if there really is time to squeeze him in.

And on the way home last night, she mentioned a text she received from "Mr. Perfect Cock", the other young chunk of eye candy she spent some time with late last year.

"Sounds like he's got girlfriend problems, Slave."

Not surprising. He's the guy with the long distance, cyber originating girlfriend in Oklahoma, who claims she is related to Kristin Chenowith (the person who did the red carpet for the Oscars we watched in our Airport hotel room Sunday night, who my aging Mother asked me about: "Is she a midget or something?"), but , according to the girlfriend, "with a better voice."

Right.

Anyway, this chick was so obsessive about Mr. Perfect Cock's whereabouts from 900 miles away that Mistress showed him the door. Now he seems to want more free therapy about how to handle her controlling ways. (And I suspect that's not the only type of "therapy" he's looking for.)

"I told him if he wants to meet for a drink sometime, that would be OK, Slave."

We will keep you posted.

Finally, before Slave heads upstairs to wake Mistress in the manner to which she has become accustomed, let me do a little Blog housekeeping.

For the last several weeks, our UCTMW inbox has been buried on spam "comments". Until now I did not want to create a barrier to your legitimate comments with one of those annoying code boxes.  But the time has come.....

We love your comments.... sorry for the inconvenience.