Decontamination

It was a very eventful weekend here in River City.

Friday night, after a busy week, there was some "home from work" sex in the executive suite, followed by a little in home "picnic".

Saturday, after some hot wake-up sex, Slave took his grandkids on an outing, while Mistress did a long bike ride with her former fuck-buddy and still biking pal, Jay.  His son was away for the week, freeing up his schedule, and their plan was for him to join us at home to watch my alma mater play what turned out to be a desultory late afternoon game against the Sooners.

After I dumped off the grandkids, and was doing some grocery shopping, Mistress texted that she was showering over there, with one of those little smiley faces.  This got me wondering about how that would work and whether a shower would turn into something more....

But apparently not.... they both showed up around game time, and Mistress whipped up some guacamole for us. Later, after burgers and a pathetic performance by my team, I asked Mistress how her "ride" had gone....

"Well, Slave.... we did shower together, and Jay's hands roved a bit.... but nothing really happened...., we're like old pals....who used to have sex."

I raised an eyebrow, wondering about the mysteries of human relationships, and wandering paws.

After the game, Mistress and Slave went to a music festival in an older part of town. Lots of people watching, with folks seemingly aspiring to the hipster look, as if going to a casting call for Portlandia. We couldn't stay out too late though, because Mistress had a date in the morning with our muddy ol' river.

It was the annual across-the-river-and-back swim, something she has done with a group of crazies for three years in a row now. Slave is not quite so foolish. I tend to think of all the chemicals and sludge that flows into the river as it meanders from Pittsburgh and through West Virginia on its way to our humble town. When she jumped into the river with some fellow swimmers, their whining about how cold the water was made me particularly proud of my own good judgment.

Fortunately, Mistress made it back in one piece, chilled, but with no limbs missing due to an encounter with a giant, mutant catfish. We stopped for some breakfast on the way home, Mistress still chilled. And when we made it home, she was determined to climb back into bed to catch up on sleep and our Sunday morning sexual rituals.  But first,  a shower. Maybe we should have had Jay stick around:

Excuses. Excuses. Excuses.

You may be happy to know that Slave was back in his cage again on Tuesday. Mistress sent me off to work after some morning sex (she likes it when the hard steel ring provides some extra heft to her work-a-day cock), having closed the lock and tucked away the key.

"You're not taking this key with you, Slave."

Well of course not.

At the end of the day she had scheduled a long bike ride  with former fuck-buddy Jay, so she gave me the authority to remove the cage so I could go on my own end-of-day ride without jeopardizing the family jewels.

"You do need your exercise, Slave."

When she got home, she even let her Slave worship dutifully with a little introductory full disclosure.

"It's a little grimy down there Slave.... I was on that saddle for about 20 miles...."

"That's the way I like it Mistress....."

Yum. 

But before signing off this morning , I have to go back to yesterday's blog comments , and the multiple excuses Suzanne seems to have for not coming to see her Patriots take on my Pussycats in two weeks. First there was something about nursing Jay back to health after some type of elective surgery; but he must be healthy enough that the following night they plan to take in a Red Sox play-off game, which was excuse number two; and then, the last excuse,  about how Sybriates not going for the tackiness of RVs.  It reminded me a little of a teenaged girl explaining why she couldn't turn in her Science project on time. You know: "The dog ate it"; and  "it was in the trunk of Dad's car which was totaled"; and then "the landlord evicted us and left it out with the trash". When actually she got stoned with her friends at a concert and forgot it was due.  The more excuses you have the lamer they all sound.

It's hard to imagine that Jay, having elected some surgery, can't make his own chicken soup for a couple of days. Or that there won't be other Red Sox games to attend....that's why they call it a play-off "series". More ... than ... one. As for the RV being too low brow, well, Suzanne, I'm sure something that is worthy of your Dmme-ish station could be arranged.  It would not have to be this kind, though the big screen is nice:

It's a little too pedestrian for your tastes, isn't it?

No, maybe something a tad more stylish, like this...

With a plush interior worthy of a true sybriate of station, such as yourself:

Of course it must be equipped with a suitable bedroom that has all the accourtrements you require.... a cabinet chock full of bondage equipment and lingerie for Tammy... maybe a selection of penis gags, baby monitor, and a special glass cabinet for the display of big blackie. And since Tammy may need to be "of service" on this grueling 16 hour drive to the vast and hostile wastelands of the American interior, I am sure if you put out a casting call on your blog, some of your devoted followers would surely volunteer for driving shifts just to be in your regal presence.

No, I think your aversion to an RV is just another lame excuse. The real explanation for your reluctance must be the sinking feeling you have that with the absence of Aarron "The Killer" Hernandez and Wes "The Smurf" Welker, the Pats don't match up well against the Pussycats. I was looking forward to a bet involving no points, with the spoils being something like Tammy doing his worshipful best on Mistress's clean shaven folds once the dust settles on the field. (I guess there is no dust on artificial turf, but you get my drift).

Ah well. I guess it's not to be. I will just have to fill in for Tammy once I get home from the game.

One Reader Will Be Pleased to Know....

That Slave was back in his cage yesterday.

Yes, it's been a while. We'd been traveling some together, so Mistress had no real "security" concerns. Then last week.... well, Mistress has been focused on getting her new practice up and running, and Slave had his usual excuses....

"I can't wear the cage to a Monday night football game, Mistress... They're wanding now, and what about when I need to take a pee....."

Can you imagine what a Stiller fan would say if he got a gander at my cock cage while lined up at those stadium urinals? Of course, it is made of steel, so maybe I'd get a little grudging respect!

But I'd run out of excuses by yesterday, and Mistress was not to be deterred.

"I've been a little too lax Slave....."

Naturally, I followed her directives, as the contract requires. I must say I had gotten a little rusty when it comes to squishing my balls into that infernal steel ring. And the commure to work had Slave squirming a bit to get comfortable.

But it was my lucky day in one sense. Mistress had time to stop by after a lunch meeting for a little mid-afternoon worship.  It's not quite tights weather yet here in River City, so it was simple enough for her to slide off her black undies, sit on her thrown, spread those lovely legs and let Slave do what a Slave does best.

Yum.

"How's the cage Slave", she asked after I had finished my task.

"Tight, Mistress... particularly right now."

"Awwww.... poor Slave."

(Somehow I don't think she was really feeling too sorry for me.)

And before Suzanne starts chortling to the effect of "it's about time!", I'm wondering why we haven't heard too much about Tammy being in his cage lately. Have you gone all squishy on us Suzanne?

In addition to Mistress's cage crackdown, the weekend here was remarkable for one thing that did not occur between the sheets . Slave took our cute Co-Ed and her boyfriend to see the local Pussycats in their titanic struggle against the Pack, who brought to town a whole coterie of fans from the dairy lands of WIsconsin to root them on.

It was a bizarre game, with eight turnovers and several momentum shifts. Fortunately, the local team got the last laugh, sending us home chanting "Who Dey".  But for all those fans who came from parts north in their tricked out RV's, it must have been a long drive home, particularly if they kept their silly, ventilated hats on....

It made me count the days until  October 6th, when the Patriots come to town.... we're anxious to show our hospitality to our friends from New England too! Make yoyr reservations soon, Suzanne. Unless you have an RV for Tammy to drive here....

An Invitation

Mistress and Slave did not disappear somewhere over that vast empty wasteland between the coasts, dear readers.

We made it back here to River City late Sunday night, and were too quickly immersed in "life" so to speak - work, family, and for Slave a too late night Monday at the stadium, where my pussycats had one of their rare victories over that dreaded team from Pittsburgh.

Indeed, as a result of that late night, Monday was an unscheduled abstinence day for both of us.... though the ship has been righted since then, or our reputation as sex blogging maniacs would be at severe risk, wouldn't it?

It's a bit of a drag being back to the grind here after two glorious weeks in our SW hideaway, though the empty nest has been nice. And Mistress has been stuck with only her Slave's attentions. She is in a discriminating mood.... one of her former Cougar week conquests - the guy who lives in the same little college town as our older cute co-ed - has been badgering her all week for a "hook-up" but.....

"I'm really not in the mood for him Slave..... I think there's something else on his agenda, and I've got other things to deal with...."

"Understood Mistress. It's your prerogative to say 'no', as well as 'yes'...."

But there is something coming up on the schedule that caught my attention this week.... early next month the mighty New England Patriots, with the guy in the hoodie, are coming to town to take on the Pussycats....you know, the team that our friends over at All Mine live and die for. I have four season tickets for the game, still unspoken for. So what better way to encourage comity amongst competing sex blog empires than to invite our friendly rivals to join us for the game?

So here's the offer Suzanne....

-Three lower bowl, 14th row seats, with good views of the Pussycat cheerleaders who will surely amuse Jay ( and maybe even Tammy).
-Plush accommodations in the guest suite at the UCTMW World HQ, only a 20 minute drive from the stadium.
-A "night on the town" in the Queen City of the West. (We actually have a few nice restaurants.)
-Free use of our collection of wooden risotto spoons.
- The prospects of an amusing bet on the outcome of the game, which might be immediately "cashed in", should your party elect to spend Sunday night after the game!

Should you elect to accept this invitation Suzanne, Slave might even invest in a plastic cage to get through the cracker jack stadium wanding jockeys, because we know how you feel about slaves without cages.

Humping Completed

As shown below Slave did lots of "humping" over the last few days, and with no help from our MIA Western Correspondent. Of course Mistress needed plenty of humping, along with plenty of worship over a few days of unusually cloudy skies that cut into her naked sunbathing time. 

And then there was that cord of wood to  hump into neat stacks under our portal. As you can see we are now ready for the "end times". Or at least several Long cold winters locked away inside our cottage with mischief on our minds. 

Black Boots Go With Anything

We're down to our final full day here at our SW hideaway, heading back to River City tomorrow morning.

It's been a lovely (almost) two weeks of sun, relaxation, music, and two-a-day sexcapading, with only a bearable amount of work and "field chores" thrown in. I suppose I shouldn't have mentioned the fact that I had a cord of wood to stack here, because that apparently triggered our erstwhile Western Correspondent, after much build up, the cancel his plans to visit us yesterday. Maybe he thought he'd be humping Mistress, rather than humping wood?  Either that or he was afraid we would use the opportunity to retrieve his UCTMW AmEx card.

In any event, Mistress and Slave somehow made up for his absence with an afternoon in bed, followed by dinner at her favorite local pizza joint and some music and tequila at a classic local Inn. How many pizza joints have a view like this:

On Thursday night, when some unusually intense rain cancelled an outdoor concert we planned to attend, Mistress organized an impromptu dinner party for four other couples here, doing an excellent job of preparing some homemade guacamole and her patented chile, while Slave was stacking firewood.  Before the guests arrived she was making sure all was in order, and confirming that her Slave had lit the fire, when I caught her in her black boots and matching undies, one of the few
moments she had any clothes on at all here on this trip. It was an image that had to be shared with our readers.

"Mistress, why not just go with that outfit tonight. I'm sure our guests won't mind."

"No need to shock, Slave....., plus it might get a little chilly out on the patio."

It was a festive evening, with plenty of libations and silliness. Something that would be impossible to replicate on a "school night" with our rather dour River City friends. And there was one odd occurrence, which was an odd reprise of an event that occurred this summer at a dinner party I attended when Mistress was on her exotic trip with our daughters and her Mom. You may recall that I handed my I-phone to a woman (she was here Thursday night too) to show a picture of Mistress and the cute Co-Eds on their trip, but she started thumbing through the photos and I had to quickly retrieve it for fear she'd see something more explicit Mistress had sent me.

Well on Thursday at the dinner table, our friend the Potter, a guy in his 30's,  started showing Mistress and me some photos on his camera of his recent work then - oops - suddenly there is a picture of a woman's ass, lying on her bed, the wisps of a thong barely visible between her firm cheeks.

I think Mistress and I simultaneously guffawed.

"Wow. Who's that?"

He seemed completely unembarrassed in explaining that it was just "some chick" who's been trying to get his attention. These kids today! Maybe I should have asked me to forward the photo so I could post it on our sex blog.

Maybe I shouldn't have been so fearful of our dinner companions seeing Mistress's naughty bits after all?

Pampered House Slave? Not this Week.

Here at the SW Hideaway we had a little more cloud cover than usual yesterday, which made for a pretty dramatic sky.

Mistress even elected to put some cloths on after lunch, and we took a little outing into town, checking out some art galleries and a tasteful new lingerie shop in town. Mistress made sure to give me some ideas for Christmas presents and stocking stuffers.
But despite the clouds and our outing, Slave has been expanding his usual "pampered house slave" duties to incorporate more typically "field slave' tasks. I've been smearing outdoor wood with preservatives,  continuing my prairie dog eradication campaign, and trimming back some brush. And yesterday, I ordered a cord of firewood, since our supply is dwindling.

An old hispanic guy with several missing front teeth arrived yesterday AM with a truckload of pinon.

"Where do you want it?", he asked, after I handed him my check.

When I realized how big a cord of firewood is, I asked the typical city guy question.

"Can you stack it over there?", pointing to the wall under our portal, next the the front door.

He just looked at me, with a crooked smile that showed off those missing teeth.

"I could come back after work, but that's on you...."

In other words, stacking is a whole additional charge. And, crazy me, trying to retain a little bit of macho pride, I said, "Never mind.... I can handle it."

Of course, once he positioned the truck and dumped his load in our driveway, I had second thoughts.

 

Dang.  That's a lot of wood.  

But thankfully help is on the way from our Western Correspondent, right Miguel?  I mean you don't think Mistress would monopolize a staff member with inside tasks when there is firewood to stack?

Tips for our Western Correspondent

Yesterday was particularly laid back here at our SW hideaway.... robust wake up sex, a long and sweaty bike ride with lovely sunshine and mountain views, and then some sun bathing / work for Mistress while Slave devoted himself to some field Slave duties.

By around 2 pm, clouds moved in and some much needed rain commenced. It gave us an excuse to adjourn to our bedroom - watch a back episode of Breaking Bad, with very familiar scenery, take a nap, and engage in some early evening sex....no it doesn't get boring.

Then we had dinner at a local restaurant with the inimitable Mattress Mary and her husband.

It was actually my search for that MM video link posted here several days ago which brought me to the theme of today's blog.

As you may recall, our Western Correspondent, when he is not disabled and collecting worker's comp at the expense of UCTMW, has a unique proclivity for "self abuse". He has run up a huge expense account tab on high end lubricant, apparently purchased by the barrel.

So when I went searching for "mattress mary" on Y-Tube, it was odd that I found an all-together different link.... someone explaining how to make a simple device for "choking the chicken" without use of your hand, which is The WC's case is probably developed and maybe suffering some muscle strain.

Here's the link:
How to Make a Mattress Mary

Then yesterday, as I was perusing an article in the New Yorker on the Pandas at the Washington Zoo and their peculiar mating habits, I stumbled upon another unique male masturbatory technique that the WC might find compelling.

It turns out that the female Panda is apparently only "in the mood" once a year! But when she is.... she makes her desires very clear and convincing:

"She wanders over a wide territory and scent-marks stones, the ground, and other surfaces with a waxy hormone-rich secretion from a gland under her tail. She masturbates, and when she encounters an adult male at the critical moment she lumbers toward him, rear end first, and lifts her tail."

I suspect that if I saw Mistress behaving this way, I would know what to do. I even found a video of real pandas having real sex; Check it out here: Pandas Having Sex. I like the way she backs that big dude into the wall.

But apparently the male Panda in the DC Zoo doesn't get it. Instead of accepting the clear invitations of the female when she lifts her tale, and provides that once per year all access pass, he just stands on her back!

As a result, the Zoo has been using artificial insemination, and has a unique way of obtaining sperm samples from the male Panda, which could be of interest to the WC:

"To obtain the semen, veterinarians inserted a low voltage probe into Tian Tian's (the male panda) rectum, positioned it near his prostate, and pulsed the current."

Walla... instant hard on, and sperm spurt. No panda porn pr phone sex required. SO maybe the WC should be looking for a suitable "low voltage probe" for hands free fun.  Indeed, if he wants to engage in a little R & D, UCTMW, which would own any invention he creates under the terms of his employment agreement, would gladly kick back 5% of the royalties.

Finally, it may now be time to announce that the WC has announced to Mistress his plans to pay a visit here Friday / Saturday. While we've heard this before, there are only a few days to go, and so the chances of his appearance may actually be approaching 50%. Will he come solo or with his long suffering wife, B? Will Mistress finally get to lay eyes upon the Special Occasion Cock?

As you can understand, his is a developing story, and we will keep you updated.

Full Cabana Boy Service

In my effort to assure Mistress was adequately served yesterday, Slave had unearthed Mistress's power tool for our wake-up sex, and she seemed very pleased with the outcome.

After our morning bike ride, Mistress went back to her all-day naked routine, setting herself up out on our patio, and Slave did some household chores, then settled into watching my poor pussycats figure another way to lose a game in the last quarter.

But I didn't want Mistress to feel lonely out there, with her kindle and abundant sunshine. At halftime, responding to her request, I slathered another coat of sunscreen on that shapely and firm ass, and made sure to get her shoulders and the backs of her legs too.

That's basic cabana boy service. But Mistress deserves much mores, doesn't she?

I stepped inside to collect a long extension cord, and the Hitachi, still out from its morning service.

When I emerged and Mistress noticed what I came armed with, she raised an eyebrow.

"Hmmm.... what are you up to Slave?"

"Just want to make sure you get a happy ending, Mistress...."

She hardly objected as I thumbed her favorite power tool on, and slid it between those firm and delicious thighs, sidling it up against Mistress's clean shaven folds.

It seemed only a matter of a minute or two before Mistress was squirming, and then asking if it was all right to cum.....

Who was I to say no.

Then I returned to that desultory football game, knowing that I had at least spent some afternoon time productively.

A Colorful Weekend

Here in the SW the sun keep shining, though the temperatures are moderate, to the cool side at night.

From costumes to the skies there were all sorts of colors on display up on the ski mountain for the big barn dance music festival. There were lots of funky fashion stylings, including these two Texas troubadours, the country rockers Bob Livingston and Claude "Butch" Morgan.

And then there was Mistress, cloaked in her traditional tie-dye, drifting off at mid-afternoon for a little nap in the shadow of a closed for the summer ski lodge:

One musician we enjoyed was Lari White, who's song "Lead me not into temptation (I can find it all by myself), had a certain Domme like quality.  Check it out out here .  After a long day of music we drove down the mountain to our little hideaway, and cuaght some more color.... it was raining a bit on our "flatlands" and a lovely rainbow had popped up, visible end to end. Here's just one end:

Hard to beat that, or the sunset that followed.

This morning we happily decided that there was no place we needed to be, unless we get motivated to listen to some more music after dinner, down at the restaurant one half mile down the street.

Of course, that should leave time for some more carnal endeavors. Mistress also enjoyed my deployment of her power tool (the Hitachi we keep here), before she rewarded her work-a-day cock with a little attention. Soon she had me begging for the opportunity to fuck her.... which she ultimately granted.

After a long and cardio challenging  bike ride, Mistress promptly shed her clothes again, and after some scrambled eggs with goat cheese that her Slave whipped up, she has retired once again to her reclining throne on our patio, leaving her Slave to watch the pussycats game....

And since we are on Mountain time, at least the game will be over in plenty time for some afternoon nookie before we even consider leaving the house again.

Wake-Up Sex Interruptus II

We had another great day here in our Hideaway, spending a good bit of the time up on the mountain at this weekend's big "barn dance" music festival. Great scenery. great music. and great people watching. Slave particularly likes the combination of cowboy boots and short skirts that fall into the "cowgirl/slut" category.

And Mistress found herself fending off not a few cowboys who wanted to join her for a Margarita at a bar on the festival grounds when Slave stepped off to the Boy's room.

There was a 2nd stage venue set up at lunch time in an alpine setting we rarely get to when the ski slopes are shut down. Mistress was pleased to score a space to stretch out on one of those chaises she covets on a sunny ski day.  But since there was a moderately sized crowd about she could not absorb sun in the nude. She did get to work on tanning those lovely legs though.

But the primary theme of today's blog has to do with our morning sexual encounter, and we're asking for a little input.

We've both been using our mornings to do some work here, and with the two hour time deviation, when it is 8 am here, and we're inclined to set aside the laptops and get frisky, it's already 10 am back in our business worlds.

Slave had finished worshiping Mistress as she read the blog, delivering one starter cum, earning permission to fuck her. And I was well into that process, hopefully having rewarded Mistress with one more cum when her phone started up....

text chime....

"Just ignore it Slave."

Slave refocuses on the task ahead.

text chime # 2.

"I'm ignoring it.... you should too, Slave."

Slave begins to lose focus.... who could it be... one of our kids.... business.... an annoying sister....?

Text chime #3

"WTF"

The work-a-day cock begins to wilt, like a soggy overboiled carrot.

Then... last straw... Phone rings.

"Whoever they are they sure are persistent...."

By then Slave had wilted to a useless chunk of flesh, and a conversation ensued about whether or not Mistress should check her phone in case there was an emergency. Not surprisingly, Mistress was displeased with Slave's apparent annoyance, and now apparent inability to proceed without some external assistance.

Being the kind and generous Mistress that she is, she spoiled her Slave with some oral stimulation, that got things flowing once again..... the fucking resumed, and Slave was benevolently allowed to cum, after asking permission of course.

But afterwards, we talked about how things had gone down.... literally.

"Maybe I should have denied you permission Slave.... you were kind of an asshole."

Moi? An asshole?  Probably right.

I tried to explain that guy physics requires some focus that can be easily waylaid. At least at my semi-geriatric age.

So how Should Mistress have handled this incident....having been satisfied already, "punish" her Slave with a bit of denial for my loss of focus, and petulance?

Or sooth me back into action as she did, with her lush lips?

Mistress Forced into a Towel

We've been getting in some long early morning bike rides here after the traditional wake-up sex rituals. Yesterday Mistress selected one of our more difficult routes. The heart valve clearing type, at least when it comes to old Mick. I always feel I've bought another year on the planet after I work my way up to the top of this one (you can see the bottom of the valley who rode up from from this view).

"I like to make sure my Slave stays in good shape", Mistress is wont to say. True, I need my stamina to make sure she is satisfactorily pleasured, particularly when there's no stud-on-the-side available for her amusement.

After the ride, we reverted to norm, with Mistress shedding her cloths for some work and relaxation out on our patio. She was settled into her kindle, with nothing else on her reclining throne when we suddenly heard a voice calling.

"Molly, Mick, are you here?"

Oops. It turned out to be a local potter (also pothead) friend who had slipped up the drive without us hearing him, to commiserate about our Prairie Dog problem.

Mistress was a little slow to react when I suggest she take shelter, but with her typical aplomb, blithely greeted our pal wrapped in the towel she had been lying on. And you will be happy to learn that through his 30 minute visit, when he was no more able to nail a prairie dog with my pellet gun than I have been all summer, Mistress kept to her towel, promptly removing it once he wandered back down the driveway to toss some more pots (or whatever potters do).


We have become a bit more social in the evenings as we've gotten settled in here. On Wednesday night, we went to a local restaurant where one of our favorite troubadour's holds court weekly "for the rest of his life". Mistress showered before hand, and emerged with some complaints about nicking herself shaving. But luckily she did not draw blood from the clean shaven folds. Rather, she had used some left over bandaids that probably were acquired when our kids were in 2nd grade or so.

"Are these Sushi band-aids a little weird, Slave?"

"Weird... my guess is that if you go out like that, you'll start a new fashion trend, Mistress."

It turned out to be a lovely evening, with an all-star musical crew, and now we're in the midst of a local Music Festival with a variety of singer/song writer types from these parts, with a touch of Austin and Nashville.

Suzanne will be happy to know that we ran into the notorious Mattress Mary, who, happily, has a new dog to replace the one she was searching for this time last year. (In case you think we're making Mattress Mary up, check out this video

All this music may actually cut into our afternoon sex for the next two days, since this is a noon to late sort of event. But I have a feeling we'll find time to make up for it starting Sunday.

HNT/ Mistress Goes for the Record

We've got a lot of privacy here at our Hideaway. Just pastures and mountains behind us, so only horses can check us out from the north. Some low walls, trees and our house block the views from the highway or our neighbors, who are more than 100 yards away in any event.

So that allows Mistress to bare all when she is sunbathing.

But she took her "can't be bothered with cloths" thing to a new record yesterday.

She slept naked, and until our 9 am bike ride, she didn't feel any need to play dress up. Certainly she didn't need any for our wake-up sex.

Then, when we got home from our ride at around 10 am, she shed her riding clothes, and didn't bother to slide into anything until we got ready to go out for dinner at around 6:30 pm.

So there she was:

making breakfast naked.

Sunbathing naked, of course.

Sitting at our picnic table doing some work on her computer, her free form boobs casting provocative shadows on the key board.

At that point I asked whether she had ample sunscreen on those luscious orbs.

"Yes, Slave.... plenty."

At some point she did remind me of my duties. Laying on her chaise in the sun on her back, she said "This might be a good time to offer some worship, Slave."

I was happy to oblige, kneeling at the foot of her chair to assure some mid-day diversion for her clean shaven folds, and not stopping until she had her fill.

And of course I did respond to requests to schmear some sun screen on her lovely ass, giving me the chance to surreptitiously take this photo for all of you lurkers.

By my calculation, that was about 8.5 hours without clothes here at our Hideaway.  We may get a letter of protest from the folks who make Tide. This sort of thing could be bad for their business.

Since there is no Fed Express delivery expected today - no, Suzanne, we did not order that flimsy cock cage you suggested from Amazon - I have a feeling the horses will get another nice view today.

Hunkered Down in Our Hideaway

Mistress and Slave made it safely to our Mountain hideaway here in the sunny Southwest.

Mistress has already logged some nude sunbathing time on our deck, much to the delight of the local wildlife. Fortunately, there have been no needs for a Fed Express delivery just yet.

We've also had a long bike ride, and got into our 2-a-day routine yesterday.

It's the time of year when the sun shines brightly in the morning, but then dramatic storm clouds billow and blow in late in the afternoon, cooling things down nicely, though any resulting rain is usually paltry.

Fortunately, that later afternoon cool down provides a good excuse to adjourn to our bedroom for som late afternoon sex and a nap.

I know, it's a tough routine.

We'll try to tough it out.

Mistress Airs it Out

Right now Mistress and Slave are parked in the Atlanta airport, waiting for our flight to the sunny SW for some much needed communal R & R. With kids parked at college, and summer just about done, we finally have some time away without our entourage.

Of course, we would have preferred to head west at the beginning of the three day weekend, as opposed to on its final day, but Mistress had some client minding to do and yesterday was particularly long and exhausting for her.

Sunday morning should be a lazy switch day in the empty nest. But Mistress was up at 6:30 am for an early morning session with a client and the media. She made it home by 10 am, allowing us at least some mid-morning sex, if not wake-up sex. But then she was off again around 12:30. I had to drop her off down on our crowded Riverfront, and she spent the next few hours in a boat on the river in our skunky overheated air, with that same client and a coterie of others.

There was an evening dinner, stretching into a big fireworks show that Slave was invited to, so we arranged to meet at my office, pretty much abandoned as it should be on a Sunday, where Mistress had the option to take a shower, and otherwise cool off before her schedule resumed.

When Mistress arrived, she was clearly wilted from all those hours in the sun and humidity. 

"Slave.... I need to air it out!"

And no, this is not the sort of "airing it out" they do in the NFL, when balls fly every which way. This was full bore take off all your cloths and lay on my office floor with the AC blasting airing it out.

Mistress just laid there, stretched out and naked.... letting those clean shaven folds and the rest of her cool down. We talked about her day, and of course I offered to worship.

"You'll have to do it to me down here, Slave.... I'm too exhausted to sit down in that chair."

Since there were only one or two workaholics in the office by 5 pm on a Sunday afternoon, I didn't even bother to slide the chair against my closed office door. I just stretched out on the floor at the apex of those muscular and shapely spread legs, and went to work. And despite her fatigue, it didn't take me too long to squueze a nice healthy cum from my too tuckered to sit on her throne Mistress.

Now that she has her new business up and running maybe she'll give me the title of CRO ("Chief Relaxation Officer").