Dear Molly and Mick - The Case of the Naked Primper and Her Whiny Husband

This is one of those days when, in search of blogfodder, we "borrow" a hapless request for advice (this time to "Dear Prudence") and give a more straight forward response than can be provided in "family friendly" publications:
 

Wife walks around nude

Dear Prudence, I am having a rather silly problem with my otherwise wonderful wife. She gets up early every morning before work to go to the gym, and then takes a shower when she gets back to our small, one-bedroom apartment. After her shower, she says she gets overheated easily while we're both getting ready for work. I can understand that -- I've already showered while she's gone, she's been exercising, and then she's showered, plus she needs to use a blowdryer to style her hair. But her way of dealing with this is to walk around almost naked (in just her bra and underwear) until she absolutely has to get dressed to leave for work. She eats breakfast like this, puts on her makeup this way -- she basically just goes about her morning routine with barely any clothes on and sometimes she skips the bra entirely. Under other circumstances, I would enjoy this. But when I'm trying to get myself ready for the day, this is kind of distracting. I find myself getting aroused, and since we're both trying to get out the door for work, it's a bad time for sex. But then I get to work and I'm frustrated all day long. I've tried raising this issue with her (delicately) and she gets offended that I can't control myself after we've been married for eight years, which I find offensive. She's the one walking around half-naked. How can I try to resolve this with her peacefully?

M & M Response:

Well this is certainly a first world problem isn't it? Some folks have a 5 mile walk to the nearest water supply, and you have to "endure" the spectacle of your attractive wife prancing around semi-attired in the morning, making your pathetic little dick all tingly?  We have a friend Suzanne who would suggest you go buy your wife a cock cage to lock on you so this "problem" will go away. Here at the UCTMW World HQ, Mistress also rejects the 1950's standards of morning attire that you seem to subscribe to. I'm sure Ward Cleaver never had to worry about June showing off her perky little breasts over her morning coffee. Lumpy Rutherford might pop in and be all scandalized.

We solve the problem by scheduling some early am wakeup sex to take the edge off, but only if Mistress is pleased with my preliminary worship services. And if she determines I am not worthy, she is more than happy to flaunt herself at the expense of me going off to work all horny and longing for her. And, by the way, it's not just in the morning I get the treatment which seems to try your cpacity for self control. How many times have I had to "endure" her nude sun bathing at our SW hideaway while I am doing my field slave duties, chopping back brush or persecuting prairie dogs? And when we are indulging ourselves in some "must see TV" here in the evening, she's usually in some short, silky lingerie, with her lady bits uncovered, teasing me with their proximity and provocative aroma.

Rather than whine about this "distraction", maybe it's time you "man up", fall to your knees and embrace your role as the hapless victim of her early morning tease and denial.

M & M

In case you are interested, here is the much lamer advice that Prudence provided to this whiner:

 

-->

Ah, tempus fugit! At this stage in my life, the way I turn off my husband is to walk around naked.  This is a sweet dilemma, so it's too bad you both get so annoyed with each other over the fact that after eight years the sight of your undressed wife bouncing around the apartment is so arousing. I get letters from women wishing that their husbands weren't lounging around with the family jewels draped over the upholstery (they do not find it a turn-on).  But I think yours is the first from a guy who finds his wife's toilette so distracting he can't get out the door.  But surely, once you're at the office, you are able to focus on the marketing data and don't spend the whole day moaning over your morning testicular vasocongestion. If you're not able to move on and save it for later, you sound very juvenile. Instead of continuing to fight over this, try taking action  (not the kind of action that will make you late for work). Buy a pretty, short, sheer robe for your wife and give it to her as a gift. Explain that she's so damn attractive that if she were a little more covered in the morning it would help you focus on the day ahead. Tell her she of course doesn't have to wear it, but you know that color looks great on her, and you hope it's lightweight enough that she can put it on without getting overheated. Let's hope that she takes your gesture in good spirit and likes the robe. Of course, if it's silky and sexy, seeing her in it may have the unintended consequence of overheating you.

Orgasm Denial On Steroids

Here at the UCTMW, your poor slave has actually gone almost 48 hours without indulgence. Sunday evening we had guests for dinner, and the long bike ride that preceded it put us in a "resting mood" when our dinner guests headed home.

Monday morning, Mistress had one of those infernal 8 am meetings to primp for. And last night slave had to hang with my mother for a while in a local hospital. By the time I got home...... zzzzzzz.

But at least I can look forward to some quick release this morning.

On the other hand, over the weekend I saw this article on something called Kareeza: Sex Without Orgasms. The notion is that couples use this form of intercourse where they fuck without cumming to somehow strengthen their relationships and get into some spiritual zone.  Here is a highlight:  

So with all of the focus that most people put on orgasms, why are some drawn to karezza? All of the individuals that ABC News interviewed about karezza were in long-term partnerships, and the majority of the couples had experienced a lag in their sex lives or were recovering from some form of addiction. Darryl Keil, a 56-year-old furniture maker found karezza when he and his wife were having problems in the bedroom 14 years ago. Neither he nor his wife Annabelle has had an orgasm for eight years, and they say that their relationship has never been better. Annabelle now feels like an equal partner during their daily sexual encounters. “It’s really alive, great sex with great feeling,” Keil told ABC News. “The pleasure goes up another level … You follow the sensation in your body, not the stimulation .

Well I can see the occasional turn on and intensity that comes with delaying a cum for a day or so. Mistress used to impose a mandatory "abstinence day" on her slave a few years back. And there were a few times (it's complicated) when I was allowed to fuck Mistress but she was not allowed to come.

But 8 years?

Even our fellow blogger Harry Haversacker wouldn't want that, would you Harry? (Although maybe the concept would be a turn on for Harry).

I have a tendency to think that it's bad for the plumbing to get all stopped up down there. Am I sounding too much like George C. Scott in Dr. Stangelove? And even that hard ass Suzanne hasn't made poor Tammy go without a quick release for more than about 30 days.

Our Western Correspondent can barely go 8 hours without dipping into his vat of high end lubricant at the office.

And as for Mistress, well she has a pretty quick trigger.  I swear it took her no more than 10 seconds to cum Sunday morning once I switched on her favorite power tool. It is almost like a Pavlovian response once she sees that white bulbous head and hears the little buzz.

Let's hope Mistress never jumps on the Kareeza bandwagon.

Shelter From the (Blog-o-sphere Shit) Storm

Recently, one of our blogger colleagues had to abandon her long running blog due to a "security breach". She had a cyber stalker who she needed to throw off her trail. The details are not relevant, but she recently re-emerged in the blog-o-sphere as "Fury" (presumably she's pissed) and has to start all over again building her followers and renewing old acquaintances. (Her new blog is on our blog roll for you discerning readers).

This reminded me of an important public service that UCTMW  would be happy to provide for any of you sex bloggers who suddenly find yourself without a home. Several years ago we had concerns about a similar security breach: someone had been introduced to us, and then was  tipped off about our on-line shenanigans . We were concerned that she might blow our cover. So  we shut off access to this blog, thinking "big deal. Who will miss us? And what will we miss?"

But as it turned out, it's hard to go cold turkey when you have built a community on line like this. So we got creative, brought in Donna our Senior Correspondent and her husband Bill, our Director of Security, founders of the SBPP (Sex Bloggers Protection Program) and created an alternative blog:
Mistress and Slave on the Lam.

We found shelter far from River City in an over the top designer Yurt in Whatthehellitstan, where Mistress could tether her Slave to a tent poll while cavorting on our double wide bed with some of the locals.

The only trouble was the distinctive odor of the  dried yak dung used in the fire pit to keep the yurt warm. But you can get used to that after a while, particularly with enough burning incense. As I recall, the WC even came for a visit and developed a relationship with the Yaks in an adjoining stable that was - shall we say -- not exactly within the bounds of conventional sexual practices. But when in Whatthehellitstan....

The old blog and all of its accessories has remained dormant for some time, but that alternative universe is always available in the case of an emergency. The folks at google tell me it still gets some pageviews even now.

 So "Fury" or any other sof you out there in need of a quick exit strategy from your current blog.... or maybe an exotic holiday from your everyday submissive or dominant drudgery, just give us a quick email. All we need to do is air out the yurt, re-stock the fridge with local delicacies, and turn over the password.

The only hassle is feeding the Yaks. It's amazing how many calories they consume everyday.

Femdom Date Night

Mistress and Slave had a dinner and the theatre date night last night - something we can get away with while the Nest remains empty. We had made plans to see the BDSM themed play "Venus in Fur" which apparently is all the rage on the regional theatre circuit this year after a run in NYC in 2011. I guess sex still sells.

Mistress chose her outfit well: this black dress ornamented with hundreds of shiny steel safety pins - I always feel in jeopardy of piercing when she has this dress on. But it certainly has a Domme-ish quality, don't you think? At least for River City.

We had arranged for her to meet me at my office at around 5:30 pm, which meant that most of my colleagues had already left for the day, providing a little extra privacy for a pre-dinner appetizer for her devoted Slave. Of course, tights season is over, even though we've had some chilly weather this week. The sun over the weekend gave Mistress's naked legs a nice early spring glow, and I was happy to fall to my knees and savor her natural juices once she wriggled out of her black panties.  She didn't even have to take the shoes off.

When she came in response to the ministrations of my tongue and lips, she let out a soft but clearly discernible moan. But I think it's unlikely anyone heard.....

Once Mistress had reassembled herself, we headed off for dinner at a hipster Japanese street food joint a few blocks away. Mistress enjoyed some sake. I sipped a local craft beer, but felt a little naked without a porkpie hat or $300 sneakers. It's a part of town where the urbanistas have dug in, with surprising relish. Of course, Mistress fit right in with her black dress with safety pin garnish  look. Slave in his blue blazer .... not so much.

After dinner we headed over to the local playhouse. I'm not sure if it's a local phenomenon, or true with regional theatre everywhere --- but it's an ancient crowd. When this old Slave appears to be 5 yrs. below the median age, you know there's a demographics problem. And with all those old codgers there, it seemed particularly creepy when the evening's entertainment is a play that tries to both con temporise and satirize the original 19th Century BDSM novel.

Of course, we had to giggle when the female in this two character play proclaims that the male has become her "slave" and prepares a contract documenting the terms of his submission.

There was plenty of skin, lots of kneeling, and a little bondage at the end. But no actual sex (real or simulated). It was clever and  funny, but not particularly  erotic. And it wasn't clear how the blue haired crowd was reacting to it, including the older couple sitting next to Mistress who seemed to have left their dentures at home. I can't imagine their conversation on the way home.

If only they'd known that they were sitting next to a real live Mistress and Slave --- would they have been as disappointed as Suzanne to know that Slave was out late without his cock cage on?

HNT/ Switch Day Outtake

It would be a shame to waste some of the unused photos from our Easter Sunday Switch day. In fact, almost irreverent.

And this shows that you don't need fancy overpriced bondage equipment. An old, faded beach towel, torn into 3 inch strips will make do in a pinch.

BTW, last night Mistress's Mom, the Dowager Domme, hosted a fundraising event for a local politician with larger aspirations. She had some of her work colleagues there, who dutifully came to nibble on the shrimp and cheese cubes, drink a little wine, and listen attentively to Mr. Aspirations. Among the assembled throng was the local fellow who sussed out our blog a couple of years back. We see him occasionally here in the neighborhood or Mistress encounters him at work. Did we call him R here a while back?

In any event, he's one of the few people in River City who knows the secret identity of Mick and Molly. Sadly, with all the milling professional colleagues lurking, we did not have a chance to catch up on developments in the blog world. I did want to ask him if he's checked out the UCTMW Tumblr page, which has been fun to update with some reblogs along with some "blasts from the past" photos from the Molly Semi-Nakers catalog. It's always about finding new uses for the same old content, isn't it?

Mistress Unearths Some Kinky Blog Fodder

One thing I forgot to mention about Sunday's Switch Day proceedings was the deployment of a certain favorite power tool.

With Mistress spread eagled face down on the bed, and her ass turning a nice shade of red from the spanking I was administering betwixt the application of an ice cube to her more sensitive parts, it seemed only fair that she have a carrot as well as a stick during these proceedings.

Fortunately the hitachi was handy, so I wedged it under her, and up against the tender bits, leaving it to do its devious and compelling work, and freeing up my hands for spanks and other important tasks.

That left Mistress to figure a way to get the right purchase on her power tool's business end, unable to use her hands or move her legs.

Poor dear.

Particularly amusing was spanking her ass when all those muscles were taut and clenched as she desperately sought to squeeze down onto the hitachi to get that little extra boost required for her cum.

After a while I doubt she even noticed how red her ass was getting. And the resulting cum -- she even asked permission first - was particularly compelling as she moaned into her pillow and jerked against her restraints.

Yesterday Mistress was still commenting on the intensity of the experience. Clearly, Slave has been lazy and needs to make sure I don't disregard my switch day options in the weeks to cum.

Mistress did find some interesting reading material to share with me, and you, yesterday evening as she was relaxing in bed while her devoted Slave cleaned up after dinner.

"Wow, Slave.... an article on "Butt Play" in NY Magazine.... it's going mainstream, and reminds me that I haven't fucked you in the ass lately...."

Hmmmm. Now there's something to look forward to.....

Here is the link: Warning: A Column on Butt Play. But as I ran through the column I must say I was a little disappointed. While there was some discussion of "rim jobs" (something neither Mistress or her Slave find particularly appetizing), and the occasional finger up the ass, there was no coverage at all of the joys of a woman deploying a strap-on on her male lover.  Here's the closest the author comes to female dominance:

-->

Still, “there’s a difference between the guy who wants to, like, bury his face in your ass and inhale your crack sweat and get all up in there, versus the guy who sticks his finger up your ass because he wants you to reciprocate,” a female friend observed over whiskeys on a recent night out. “He wants a finger up his ass but can’t ask for it because he’s afraid of seeming gay or something. It’s like the guy who asks you to hold his balls and then is like, ‘Maybe squeeze a little, maybe? … Harder, maybe? … Harder! Harder! Harder!’ Until suddenly you’re like, ‘Wait, you’re totally into cock-and-ball torture.’ You really want me to stomp on your nuts; you just don’t know how to ask.’ ”

This author clearly had limited sources for her piece. Maybe she should spend an hour over drinks with Suzanne or Mistress to get a more complete picture of the options available when it comes to a woman engaging in some ass play with an eager lover.

The Resurrection of Switch Day

No, we're not a particularly religious household here at UCTMW.

We let both of the religious holidays from our respective traditions go unhonored this week. When Mistress's sister once again asked her whether she could borrow the "Passover Plate" gifted to her some time ago, she had to explain (0nce again) that she had given it away to a friend who invited us over for Passover years ago.

And Easter? Well, let's just say that it's honored only in the secular sense: when our divas in training were young there were the Easter Egg hunts, with little plastic eggs filled with candy or spare change.
And of course, the Easter baskets filled with unhealthy confections.

Yesterday, it was Mistress Mother (the senior Domme of the family) who came up with the baskets - at a brunch at her house that, fortunately, was scheduled late enough for us to indulge in some wake-up sex and a bike ride before we got down to some serious face stuffing.

The baskets for Mistress, her sister and our Cute Co-Ed were filled to the rim with the traditonal staples: Reese's eggs, pink M&M's, chocolate eggs, and the indispensable Peeps.

What is it with Peeps?  They taste like plastic to me, and are even less digestible.  But Mistress and our daughters live for those nasty little suckers.  At least someone had a better idea for their use this Easter:

After our big brunch, the plan was to adjourn to the UCTMW World HQ, kiss our cute Co-Ed goodbye as she drove back to campus, and then adjourn to the Executive Suite for some hot sex.

But the cute Co-Ed lingered, giving Mistress more time on our deck in some early spring sunshine, and Slave time for some field Slave duties in the yard. It wasn't until 4 pm or so that the Co-Ed finally drove off, meaning it was nap time for Mistress and her Slave.

I suspect she figured that I'd be too lazy for anything particularly kinky when I woke from my slumber. But she had a surprise in store. What better time than Easter to "Ressurect" our Switch Day tradition?  It takes a little more effort, but it's usually worth it.

Soon Mistress found her self stretched wide on the bed, with Slave alternating between spanks and some teasing tickles with an ice cube on her sides, toes and ass.  Her involuntary squirming certainly tested the bonds that held her ... but they were more than ready for the challenge.  I did stop to snap some photos though, and one handy prop was very helpful to avoid a XXX rating:

 It's a shame we don't have any pinks cuffs to match the peeps.

Mistress's Fantasy Date Lives to Climb Another Day

Here at the UCTMW World HQ it's a little too busy this weekend. Our cute Co-Ed is home for a few days. Mistress is throwing a fancy birthday party for her aging Domme of a Mom, and Slave is dealing with his own cranky mother. 

Saturday is likely to me over-programmed, and not much fun.  Then there is "Easter Brunch" at the birthday grandma's house.

But once we work our way through that, the Co-Ed will be heading back to campus, and Mistress and Slave have scheduled some quality time here in the Executive Suite. We may have to relaunch the tradition of "Switch Sunday".

"You've been a little lazy on that front lately, Slave."

Hmmm. Maybe if I find that bamboo cane she may regret what she's asking for?

Yesterday Mistress did have a bit of a jolt.

When news broke about the deadly Avalanche at Mt. Everest, she realized that her fantasy mountain man from our SW hideaway was there leading  a team of climbers. Not long after the news broke, MM posted on his facebook account that he and his team were safe and well, though mourning the loss of too many Sherpas doing the dirty work of preparing the ropes and ladders for the deep pocketed foreigners who come each year just to make another check mark on their bucket list.

When so many people die playing a game of Nepalese roulette on an avalanche prone  swath of that mountain, just to create photo ops for wealthy Westerners, one has to wonder about the sanity - or morality - of the enterprise.

But at least Mistress's fantasy date is still around to keep her hopes alive.

On a blog housekeeping matter, Slave has now opened a UCTMW Tumblr account, where I will be posting some of our favorite photos of Mistress accumulated over the years, and sharing other photos that may draw my attention. It's listed on the blog roll of you want to check it out.

Hope all of our readers find each and every egg the Bunny may hide in your household!

HNT: Flash Back Thursday

Those of you on Facebook likely have noticed the gimmick of posting old photos of family, friends, or particularly oneself on "flashback Thursdays". The "selfies" from kindergarten, high school or college are particularly cute, or narcissistic, depending on your point of view.

And of course there's long been "HNT", here in the sexblogosphere. Yesterday Sin commented that photos are what really drive page clicks, not fabrications by lady sex bloggers, noting that smutty Instagram or Tumblr pages seem more popular than blogs these days. I've even placed a few of them on our blog role here at UCTMW. My favorite is Temptation Row, which collects steamy BDSM photos from a variety of sites, paired with cheeky comments from an English author who also writes smutty little BDSM novellas and stories she sells on Amazon.  Check her out. (Maybe Donna can do a review?)

I'm still waiting for Sin and Suzanne to post some "selfies", like we have done here over the years. But it may be a long wait!

But in the spirit of combining HNT and Flashback Thursday, here's a little flashback of Mistress in some cute undies that by now have probably seen better days:

Who Can You Trust?

Just when it seemed that spring had finally arrived here in River City, we actually woke up to snow here yesterday morning - yes, April 15th!  Would the IRS give us a snow day?  Unlikely.

In a comment she left on our last post, Sin mentioned that Tights season was still alive in Canada, where it also was still snowing. No surprise there. Doesn't Dudley DooRight wear tights year round?

When I got home from work I checked with Mistress to see if the snow had changed her approach to proper attire. (She had left so early for one of those god forsaken 8 am meetings that quite frankly I forgot what she was wearing when left the house.)

"No Slave. Despite the snow, it's April. No tights. I went bare legged today."

Yikes. I guess that makes her a real "slave to fashion"?

Rest assured I wore long pants to work.

By the time I got home, I could not check her attire because she was already in that silky black nighty. Our plan was some rest after a long work day, then some overdue sex in the UCTMW executive suite. Fortunately, with our empty nest still intact for just a few more weeks before the end of the college year, there was no one to interrupt our plans.  We'd better enjoy while we can!

But today's blog is really about an article I noticed yesterday - someone must have earned her Ph. D. on a "study" of college student sexting behaviors, which suggests that they must be running out of bona fide topics for academic research. A summary was posted in Slate, here: Study Finds That Women Tap Out Lies More Than Men. These "researchers" found that a good percentage of folks who send sext messages about what they are doing to their "tender bits" or "massive woodies" are really just making it up, either because they are trying to stoke someone else's fantasy, or, even more sadly, because they are bored. But the key part is that babes lie in their sexts more than guys.

Researchers also unmasked a gender difference in deception, finding that 45 percent of women bent the truth in their sexts, compared to 24 percent of men. Most of the surveyed students (67 percent) claimed they fibbed for their partner’s benefit, presumably to fuel the daydream, while a third copped to fibbing because they were bored.

I can't say that I'm too surprised by this.

It maybe that college girls have been programmed by the media to believe that guys need this sort of rich fantasy life to keep their motors running, or keep them from wandering off to the next sorority girl who will send them (made up) sext messages describing what they are doing in their bunk bed before bedtime.

Sad but true.

But it got me thinking: Does the same tendency to make hot stuff up apply to lady sex bloggers?

Is playing fast and loose with the truth why lady sex bloggers tend to get more readers than  guys who write these things? Are all those nasty little vignettes actually fabricated to boost their rating, or because they know there are guys out there dipping into their high end lubricant vats, one hand on their special occasion cocks, the other hand on the mouse?

Here at UCTMW we believe in telling hard truths. (What would be the point of telling flaccid truths?).

But what about all you female sex bloggers, like Suzanne, Sin or 'Nilla?

I must say I've speculated about how often and long Suzanne really makes Tammy wear that cock cage. And how big  "Big Blackie" really is?

Does Sin really  flaunt her naked body and those nasty nipple clamps via  Skype chats with her alleged Big Bad?

And are those Thursday breasts really Nilla's? Or are they photo shopped? Or yanked off of Google images?

Could it all just be a big lie?

Maybe we need some "Sex Blog Fact Checker"  to get to the bottom of all this.  WC, are you still on sick leave?

Tights Season, RIP

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

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

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

Yum.

Cuckolding in the News

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Snow, Sunsets, and Wookie Feet

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

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

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

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

"I'll happily permit that, Mistress."

"Since when are you in charge?"

"Good point, Mistresss."

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

Aren't they cute?

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

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

The Missing

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

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

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

"I think he misses me, Slave….."

"I'm sure he does, Mistress."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Birthday Gift for the WC?

Mistress and Slave hit the slopes again today, but not before some lovely wake-up sex followed by some al fresco scrambled eggs whipped up by this pampered Slave. I served Mistress outside on our patio,  where she was catching some early morning sun. Apparently I have gotten so used to her naked sun bathing here that she had to remind me later, on a chair lift, that she enjoyed eating her breakfast in her birthday suit.  Really, she was naked when I served her?

Oops. I guess Slave is jaded. Either that or I was famished and focused on devouring my own breakfast.

Now after a few hours on the slopes, we are back in our little rustic hideaway. We've owned it for about 13 years now - longer than our place back in River City. And while it's a lot smaller, it's all we really need. "If it doesn't fit here, Mistress, we don't need it!"

"Agreed Slave.... except for the cats."

Of course, we do have a suitable power tool stowed away, for those days when Slave's devoted tongue just won't cut it.  And there are some ropes and a riding crop. What more do you need?

(Sadly for Suzanne, we did "forget" Slave's cock cage. But that won't take too much room once we move here full time.)

We have developed some good and fun friends here. Last night, the locally renowned "Mattress Mary" (yes, she owns a mattress store) and her husband stopped by for some drinks, and stayed way past our bed time.  And there is that cute waitress with the tattoos at the local Pizza joint, who flirts with Mistress while serving her favorite: spelt pizza with mushrooms and goat cheese.

But speaking of birthday suits, our infamous western correspondent appears to be celebrating his birthday today. We hope he's enjoying it, and will happily give him the day off with his usual rate of pay. But Mistress had an idea. While the WC has oft threatened to bring his special occasion cock on down to our hideaway, he (and it) have yet to materialize.

So Mistress has a special inducement she has put on the table (or in this case, our bed):

"Slave, you can tell the WC that my ass is his for as many birthday strokes he wants."

But as they say in the informercials, this offer is open for a limited time only.

Tough Duty

Mistress and Slave are in our own version of a very pampered "boot camp" this week at our SW hideaway. With no cute Co-Eds or  overstaying house guests to dictate the schedule, we get to march to our own drums this week. That turns into a "two-a-day" sex regime, a late morning trip up the mountain, 10 or so robust runs, then our afternoon back here, sunning, napping, and getting a little work in so our clients don't think we've completely abandoned them.

Of course, it's not summer. Temps have bounced between the teens to the upper 50's. But that does not prevent Mistress from going au natural to restore that healthy glow. I think it was no higher than 40 degrees when I took this photo on Sunday:

It's the last week of the ski season here, so the ski patrol is out, polishing the mountain for the spring and summer season. Unfortunately, Mistress's favorite mountain man, Dave, is already off to Nepal for the Everest climbing season. But I do think her heart skips a beat when she sees one of these rugged guys with a few dozen yards of rope in hand:

Think of the possibilities!  'Nilla, maybe you can do one of those custom stories for her.