New "Career" Move?

Mistress and slave have almost completely dropped off the grid since arriving at our SW hideaway on Thursday night. We were able to enjoy the bounty of a big snow dump that preceded us, so Friday-Sunday was spent on the sunny  slopes when not napping, and enjoying our daily wake up sex.

Mistress even got the thrill of seeing her "Holy Grail", the Mountain Man who works on the local ski patrol when not climbing some of the world's highest peaks.  He was tending to an injured skier. Fortunately, she was not so distracted that she ran into a tree.

But yesterday we woke to a wickedly cold windstorm. The daily snow report from the local ski mountain warned that the opening of the lifts could be delayed until who knows when.

"Sounds like a good excuse to hunker down here, Mistress."

I heard no objection from her. So we spent the day lazing around the house, doing some oft delayed chores, and catching up on some work and reading. We ventured out at lunch time, braving the freezing winds to a local "cantina" where Mistress enjoyed some homemade tamales and slave ordered a (not just for) breakfast (anymore) burrito.

Yum.

But as we were waiting for our order, we couldn't help but listen in on a local hunk, with a wiry build, and a bearded face burnished by the sun, who described to a friend his "gig" for next week.

"Some Texas family has hired me to ski with their kids all next week....they're 10 and 12.... I get $150/day per kid. Plus they pay for food.... All I have to do is keep them out of trouble and out of their parents' hair."

This is a gig economy, with most folks stitching together a variety of part time jobs to keep the heat on in the winter. His pal was duly impressed. A cool $300 a day just to ski around.

This got Mistress and slave thinking....

"We've been talking about some sort of consulting business out here Mistress, to use our professional skills, but what if we just became ski guides to folks who could use some "company" on their trip here."

Mistress picked up my drift....

"Hmmmm..... we could show them around the mountain. But then maybe spend some time with them apres ski?"


"I could be a ski gigolo, Mistress. Showing some lonely ladies how to improve their turns?"

"I wonder how you advertise for some engagements as a ski escort, slave..... is that how you would describe it?"

Mistress would be very skilled at showing some clients how to warm up after a long day on the slopes.

Maybe there's a way to market these types of services on line. There are plenty of qualified ski instructors here. And while we may not be the first folks to turn to to enhance your ski abilities, we certainly know the mountain like the backs of our hands. And also all the cool night spots and watering holes.

But if we move in this direction, Mistress may need to upgrade her ski outfits, which now focus more on the functional rather than the alluring.

That shouldn't be a problem.

Slave Finds Mistress A Potential Suitor On the Mountain

Recently Mike, our on again, off again Western Correspondent (should we call him a "stringer" now?) suggested that we might be better off looking for a local "Ski Bum" to satisfy Mistress's need for a little extra sexual attention on our long trips west.

Surely there are guys up on the mountain who wouldn't mind cuckolding old Mick and taking advantage of Mistress's lush, demanding body?

Well, for the most part, the ski bums here in our little corner of the Rockies are an unkempt lot. Think a guy with an untrimmed beard and ponytail, duct tape holding together his ski gloves, who hasn't showered for a week because he sleeps in a van in the ski mountain parking lot to make sure he doesn't miss any of that that early AM powder.

This is not Vail or Aspen, where the "ski bums" are the sons of hedge fund managers or Silicon Valley Barons, with slope side condos to retreat to  after their ski valet stores their skis and boots until morning.

But once in a while you do run into a potential candidate on the mountain. About two weeks ago we shared a lift with a novelist  (let's call him Dirk) who lives an hour north of here, high on an abandoned ski resort.  He seemed interesting, and we shared information, and actually found him on Amazon. We talked about getting together again on the mountain, and although we traded a few texts (I cleverly gave him Mistress's cell number to contact us), we did not "hook up" until yesterday.

It was a blustery snow day on the mountain. Mistress took a few runs and retreated to a fire side lounge at the base, while slave added to his run count.  As I boarded a lift after a run through the trees,  who pops up on the chair next to me next to me but Dirk.  We chatted on the ride up, took 2 more runs together, and I then declared my plan to go meet Molly at the base and take her home for lunch.

"I'll go down with you and say hello."

Mistress was a little surprised that I had Dirk in tow when I found her warming at fireside in her foxy, form fitting black  ski wear. We chatted a bit, then I left the two of them alone with the pretext that I had to change out of my ski boots before heading home.

When I returned, Mistress and Dirk were sitting side by side on a little couch in front of the fire, looking very cozy.  We all talked twenty minutes more, then I took my "matchmaking" thing a little farther.

"If you want, stop by our house for some coffee on your way down the mountain."

He was interested, and we made sure he had our address. He even said he noticed our black Subaru pulling out of our drive on the way up the canyon, so knew exactly where we were located.

Dirk did stop by. I lit a fire, made some coffee. Mistress was stretched out on our couch when he arrived, reading her kindle.  He stayed for more than two hours, and we traded opinions and stories on politics, books, and movies. (He has been an extra in several movies filmed in these parts and had amusing tales about famous and not so famous actors and directors).  He had some interesting (if far out) theories on the Kennedy Assassination and UFO's. But then this is crazy country!

Finally, he took his leave, but not before commenting "I like you guys! You're interesting."

He's divorced, and shared some interesting opinions on how most of the local ladies are a little too . . . . how shall we say it . . . flannel shirty ..... for his taste. He clearly is looking.  And he prefers a woman who shaves her legs and wears a little make-up to a lady lumber jack.

Mistress clearly falls into the former camp. (In fact, as is well known to our readers, she shaves more than just her legs!)

So what happens next?

"He's interesting slave.  But how do you broach the subject that I am "available". Won't he think that's a little weird?"

Well that is the problem, isn't it?

SO dear readers.... you help us make the call.  How does one introduce the concept of consensual cuckoldry to a guy like Dirk?

Settling In.

Yesterday started like most days for Molly and Mick – I rose early, wrote my bog for all of you, then shared it with Mistress before some early morning sex. Mistress was wearing this sexy light green outfit, something I gifted to her several Christmas’s past. I love the sheer fabric of those panties, which allow me to taste her succulent juices, even before sliding them off.

We are still adjusting after the great drive of 2010, so passed on Switch Day. Mistress gave me a rain check for later this week, always something valuable to have.

After rousting the kids, we headed up the mountain for our first family ski day of the season. We’ve become fair weather skiers these last few years – spoiled by abundant sunshine and pristine snow. But yesterday was hardly “fair”. Overcast. Wind. Snow.

So I knew it would be a short day for my three Divas.

And that probably worked for the best, since M was interested in an afternoon “date” with Mistress.

“Do you mind if we leave a little earlier so he and I can “talk”, Slave.

“Of course not, Mistress. It’s too damn wet and cold up here anyway.”

M, M and M clicked over the audacious tales of his pre-marital sexual exploits that he began sharing with us via email about this time last year.

It turns out in runs in the family. As we were sliding into our boots yesterday morning in the locker room of our local ski resort, Mistress shared the latest.

“M sent me an email saying his brother was at a party last night and stuck a finger up the asses of three women there?”

Hmmmm. This seemed almost too fantastical, even for kin of the WC.

“We need to know more details, Mistress.”

“I suspect he will share during our date this afternoon, Slave.”

So after about 6 runs, and some spicey chili, the chilled Collins clan retreated back down the mountain. As I was arraying our gloves along the baseboard heater to help them dry, Mistress checked her I-phone and announced to me that it was “time”.

“Could you get out my equipment, Slave?”

Of course, Mistress.”

We had left our original Hitachi behind over the Thanksgiving weekend, in order to avoid raised TSA eyebrows as we travel to and fro. I pulled it and an extension cord from it’s hiding place and made sure all was in working order.

Then I kissed Mistress, wishing her a jolly good time.

Mistress shuttered herself in her room, the teens went to their room to watch videos and chill. Mick turned on a football game to help deaden the sound of the wanton moans of sexual release sure to me emanating from our bed at any moment.

Mick had a good book, football, a comfy couch … so what that his lovely wife was on the other side of the wall lavishing her cunt with attention at the urgings of our Western Correspondent.

I must have nodded off, so it seemed it was not long before Mistress emerged from our room, a smug and satisfied look on her face.

She sat down next to me, and I asked the question that had been at the top of my mind.

“So how did M’s brother manage to slide his finger up the ass of three women on Saturday night?”

She laughed.

“Apparently he’s ‘known’ for that, Slave…. It was some neighborhood party.”

It did strike me as odd. M’s bro lives in one of those stolid Midwestern cities known for making beer, not Las Vegas or San Francisco. I had trouble imagining a guy at some suburban holiday party in our hometown sidling up to a neighbor lady and asking “would you mind dropping your drawers so I can finger your ass?”

And then finding two other women who would say yes to that as well on the same evening.

Impressive. I think our Western Correspondent may need to do a tutorial on this strategy for breaking the ice with a suburban mom.

After that, Mistress and Slave adjourned to a hot bath, and to bed. Nap first, then a robust round of fucking during which I tried to remind Mistress that a work-a-day cock can have its merits too.

After dinner – steak, potatoes and veggies at home – we cranked up the Kiva fireplace and trimmed our Christmas tree. And the surly teens even helped.

But once the tree was done, the retreated to their room, leaving the roaring fire to us.

Mistress perused the sex blogs on her laptop, enjoying Sin’s “Dear Mick” posting on Poly stuff. It inspired her to get M on the phone again, and she chatted with him about various blogs we read during the long ride, as I rubbed her foot with one hand while holding my book with another. She noted that Brooke had posted a photo of her Master’s cock on her blog several months ago.

“But, you know M,” she said in that flirtatious voice she saves for him, “there’s no way I’m posting any of those photos of your cock on our blog…. Who knows who might start hitting on you.”

Mistress was an early riser today....

So her command that I come to attend to her needs came before I could compose a proper blog entry. Fortunately, I was able to deliver on the "needs attending" front, and received a generous reward.

I could be in for some punishment later for my failure to deliver on the blogging front though, I suppose.

Now the sun is out. bright blue skies. 4 inches of fresh snow overnight.

So this blogger and his firm but fair Mistress are goin' skiing.  Update you on our adventures tomorrow!

HNT / Apres Ski "Switch"

Monday was Mick and Molly’s last ski day on our little “mini-break”. Most of the weekend crowd had headed home, and we made sure to exploit the bright sun and softened snow on wide open slopes.

Early in our day, Mistress taunted her Slave about a particular tall and buff skier dressed in black who had scoped her out in the locker as she slid on her boots.

“There’s a nice one, Slave.” She had that lascivious little grin, and  eyes that sparkled with lust. She likes the rugged “mountain man” types.

I took note of Mistress’s roving eye. She feels enabled by her contractual rights. That seems to get her imagination (and juices) flowing. And I like it too.

As the sun settled lower in the sky, we headed back down the mountain to our little adobe cabin.  This is the time of a ski day that both of us treasure: a little wine, a nap, some activity between the sheets, appreciating yet another big sky sunset. In no particular order.

I stoked our Kiva fireplace. Poured some wine. We read a bit. 

After about an hour of R & R time, I pulled out the red leather cuffs with their little locks.

“Remember my rain check, Mistress.”

She grumbled a bit, but surrendered as agreed. The cuffs were locked on in front of her, clipped together.

I positioned one of our Mexican chairs and a hassock in front of the fire, and placed two pillows on the floor.  Then I yanked the black long underwear Mistress was lounging in down around her muscular calves.

“Kneel, slut.”

Mistress’s eyes sparked in defiance for a moment, but she was in no position to defy me.

She assumed her position, her arms stretched in front of her, head resting on the seat of the chair. The warmth and flickering light from the fire only a few feet away made the flesh of her warm, firm bottom glow.

I kneeled next to her, using my hand to gently stroke that lovely ass. He little undulations against my hand suggested she enjoyed my attention.

“You liked that tall, rugged skier in the locker room today, didn’t you, slut.”

“Ummm, Huh”.

“I bet you would like to be presenting your lovely ass to him just like this, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe”.

I kept stroking, then dipped a finger between her legs. Wet. Very.

“It turns you on just to think about him, and what he would do to you, doesn’t it?”

“You’re turning me on, Slave.”

“But his strong , strange hands exploring your body would make you even hotter, wouldn’t they?”

“Maybe.”

“No doubt.”

I began to spank her, a lighter touch at first, then harder.

She took it for a while like a good little slut, but then began to whimper and complain.

“That hurts.”

“That’s the idea. Do you think your big buff skier would stop spanking you at your first complaint.”

I slapped her reddening bottom again. The hardest yet. She squirmed, her bottom bouncing high off the hassock.

“No.”  

Not in her dark and dirty imagination he wouldn’t.

“he’d spank you even harder if you complained, wouldn’t he, slut?”

“Yes.”

She was moaning now, her ass squirming between my strokes. The scent of her arousal mixed with the aroma of burning pinon. (An interesting concept for a musky new perfume, no?)

I let up for a moment, holding her firmly in place with one hand while I reached for the little V shape vibrator I had parked close at hand on the floor.

My fingers discovered just how wet she had become during this little ritual. One end of the vibe slid easily into her, with the other end nestling between her folds, against her thickening clit. The device  was already churning away, and my strong Mistress was turned into a squirming little slut as I resumed her “punishment”.

My left hand administered just a few more spanks, as my right hand pressed the vibrator into her, making sure that her desperate gyrations would not dislodge it.

Mistress buried her head in the cushion of her chair, as her body surrendered to confusing mixture of pleasure and pain.  I had to press my hand down hard as she bucked against me.

She thought she was done. Wrong. After letting her come down a bit, I resumed the spanking, harder still, with that little vibrator still buried in her.

She came again, moaning all the more. Her muscles relaxing as I slowly slide the vibrator from her dripping opening, then switched it off.

I let Mistress catch her breath, then pulled down my own black long johns.

We had talked earlier in the day about the common D/s scenario of a Slave kneeling to suck her Master’s cock. It’s something Mistress had contemplating doing for the lucky Master who might pop up someday with the chops to make her submit. It’s a particularly  compelling fantasy for her.

I suggested she might want to get some practice.

So I pulled Mistress from the chair, and had her kneel in front of me as I stood over her.

Maybe she is too tall (5’6”). Or I am too short (5’11’). But the kneeling / standing position did not align well. Mistress had to slide onto her ass to take me into her warm, luscious mouth. But that worked nicely. Mistress knows how to use her lips and tongue to get what she wants.

I was soon more than ready for the next course.

“He’d make you beg to fuck him, wouldn’t he, Mistress?”

“Maybe”.

“And you would, wouldn’t you, like a good little slut.”

“Of course.”

I pulled her to her feet, toward our bed.

“Well Let’s practice that next.”