Showing posts with label 4th of July. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 4th of July. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

The Smoke Clears for Independence Day


Hopefully our readers excused our paucity of words here in exchange for all those lovely photos of Mistress, “languishing” in he switch day “discomfort”. Rest assured that the events of the day left her with a distinct advantage on the Orgasm count, which ended at:

Mistress – 10

Slave – 2

It was all made possible with the help of her handy power tool. While I did not have a chain saw to help with my pruning of trees and bushes, at least in my breaks I had that Hitachi to spell the work of tongue and fingers and make it far more efficient to push that O count higher.

Meanwhile, the WC was only a short drive north of us, and the tone of his text messages to Molly were a little whiney. She had a feeling he was a bit resentful of all the fun he was missing. Either that or his round of golf was sub-par.

AS the day progressed we both read this interesting Article ("Infidelity will keep us together") in the Sunday Times’ magazine, on the subject of fidelity, with both of us reading aloud and commenting  on some of the more thought provoking parts.  For those of you, like us, who have moved onto some more unconventional choices in this area, it is definitely worth reading, and maybe discussing here or elsewhere .  So check it out.

We spent our Sunday evening at home dining with some friends, who left relatively early, giving us some time to rest up for our big July 4th festivities.

It was about our 7th annual hosting of a pre-parade party here on our patio, with its stunning views. Fortunately, the wind had shifted some, blowing away the pall of Los Alamos smoke, so we had a clear beautiful day to celebrate, as well as our nation’s birthday.

And I was up early, preparing my apple crisp to go with the Billini’s, cheese, chips and salsa we were serving.

When Mistress woke, I served her a latte, and we settled into some luxurious morning sex, with Mistress riding my cock to several emphatic cums before we flipped the table and Slave earned his own permission to come.

That was followed by a nice exhilarating bike ride, with the mountains and valleys along the way finally clear of the shroud of smoke.

At home set up was relatively simple, and we found we had an hour before our guests arrived.. Mistress settled out on the patio, her kindle in hand, completely naked but for a necklace and sandals.

I picked up some pruning shears.

But Mistress had another task in mind.

“Slave, in this light I can see a few stray hairs down there. Could you get me my razor?”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I found it in the shower and carried it to her. So while I trimmed some of our bushes, Mistress trimmed her own.

“Do you know how much work it is to keep things so tidy for you Slave?”

“I am very appreciative, Mistress….”

Our little reception was enjoyable, an interesting mix of friends in both the local and tourista categories. Around noon we walked the short stroll to the parade, with it’s traditional mix of kitsch and unbridled patriotism.  Here are a few photos.
 ( a float by a local company that works on faces. Divas on parade, and their attendant Slave?).


Afterwards, there was a barbeque on the grounds of a local restaurant, with music by a local band, and a big pig on the spit. A great way to let a lovely afternoon pass, and we were lucky to find seats in the shade.

By 4 or so the band finished their last set, and Mistress and Slave passed on an invite to take the party to another house, then yet another restaurant and band. We’d had enough of company, and strolled home, back through our little town, now abandoned by the revelers who had come from far and wide for the celebration.

So instead of more partying, there was nap time, sex time, and time to read as the sun set over our little chunk of heaven.

When the sun had completely disappeared, the milky way was out in all it’s glory. But to the south, barely noticeable at first, was a red glow stretching out for what must have been 15 miles along the very edge of our horizon. From our vantage the Los Alamos fire was a series of crimson commas and parentheses adorning the distant ridge.

The winds from the north must have cleared the smoke to the south, giving us an amazing view from 60 miles away of the still ferocious blaze that 2000 hearty souls were still fighting to contain.

It put our lazy and indulgent holiday in perspective.

We are two lucky Americans.