Snow Day

Mistress and slave woke to a nice coating of snow here yesterday. Nothing like the 18 inches experienced during our recent SW getaway, but the type of cold slippery stuff that cripples commutes here in River City.

It made slave want to spend a little more time in bed with Mistress before clearing enough of the drive as to allow me to back my car out. After our wake-up sex was consummated, I bundled up and headed to work. Mistress made the wiser choice of cancelling her morning spinning session and a lunch meeting, and hunkered down to work from home for the day.

I safely made it to work, slipping here and there in the slow traffic. And used the snow as an excuse to head home early, finding Mistress safely tucked into our bed, pretty much where I had left her in the morning.

"I actually did a lot of work today, slave!"

I did not doubt her, but when you can work from home, why not use your lap-top in bed rather than trundle about our drafty old house?

Rest assured that one of the rituals that soon unfolded involved a pre-dinner apertivo (not unlike the tableau depicted above) to make sure Mistress did not have to resort to self-help as a reward for a "hard day at the office".

BTW, there's more snow headed here on Friday.  I think I'd better bring home a "snow day bag" from work, in case I am persuaded to join Mistress for another "work from home" day.  Despite the distractions, I am sure we can both be very productive.

Let It Snow

Mistress and slave have been buried in what seems like about 18 inches of new snow over the last two days here in the high desert.

Of course, there are some benefits in being snowed in.  While we had some work to do on Thursday morning, we worked in a mid-morning "sex break" (as previously reported) and also a post-nap late afternoon two-fer, that involved Mistress doing some rather enthusiastic cock riding to top off her orgasm count for the day. (But who's counting).

Yesterday we could not resist the impulse to drive up to our local ski mountain to enjoy a powder day.  But what was the rush?  we lolled in bed a little longer than usual for some pre-ski delight, before struggling to get our car out of the driveway. Slave is not into shoveling at 7000 ft., but sometimes you have to do what you have to do.

We look forward to the first sun in a few days here today, and some more morning sex before we head back up the mountain.

But before signing off, I wanted to respond to some speculation about the potential plot twist on Downton Abbey: the notion that Lady Mary might save the families struggling estate by selling her services as a Domme to the aristocracy.

Terri over at A Married Sissy asked what an antique strap on might look like. And despite exhaustive research., I must say I came up short.  Certainly the Brit twits of the Victorian era were no strangers to pegging. But the notion of synthetic or plastic faux cocks for rear entry was out fo the question in those days. The best I could come up with were some rather exotic  "rectal dilators" that the cracker jack set and artifact designers for DA could replicate or dust off for Lady Mary's use:

Certainly these could be fitted with an appropriately authentic leather harness for Lady Mary to put to good use.  And then there is the old stand-by  "double header" which could also be adapted to punch up this story line. 

It would certainly be better than implicating Bates in yet another murder of yet another good for nothing.

But Lady Mary probably doesn't need a whole lot of "kit" to play the role of a Domme, does she?  She already has that superior attitude that can put any male, regardless of title or the size of his trust fund, in his place. This photo is a good example:

Can't you imagine what's going on just below where this photo is cropped. No doubt some less than adequately endowed suitor with a fancy title is doing his best to please her with an avid if unskilled tongue. And she's totally unimpressed with his skills. Hopefully by the final episode she can whip a few of those twits into shape!

Terri, I know you and I could do better considering our experience and training! But we could never nail those posh accents.

Snow Bound

A teaser headline always gives our page views a pop. I'll bet a lot of you had this of "snow bound" in mind:

But no one actually got tied up here yesterday in River City. It was more like this, as Slave tried to deal with the wet, heavy parfait of snow, then ice, then more snow that blanketed us here in the heartland:

 

But at least we had plenty of advance notice, and cleared our respective schedules so we could both hang out at the UCTMW World HQ together. Slave had packed a "blizzard box" of  papers to work on at home, and Mistress, as her own "boss" (what else would she be?)  has a very flexible work schedule, so could easily shift some meetings around, allowing both of us to avoid slippery highways.

Of course, there was some hot wake-up sex, and we could loll in bed a little longer than normal. Though Slave earned a demerit (and a prospective punishment) but not waiting to come until permission was granted. I guess I've gotten a little to used to Mistress's typical quick assent, and when she hesitated.... well..... Oops. And She called me on it.

"You may have to be punished for that, Slave."

Slave did do some shoveling. It was the heaviest snow I can recall. I quickly turned the job and a $20 bill over to the teenaged neighbor. And after we put in a good day of work on our respective lap tops, we did walk to a local restaurant for dinner, dodging drifts, and returned home for some Mistress cock riding to end our day. Rest assured I did not make the same mistake twice!

Of course we are not the only folks caught up in this cycle of slush. We got a whiney email last night from Suzanne about her sad plight on the East Coast, where they were buried once again. Though I suspect the real reasons she is in a grumpy mood is that her two lovers have been under the weather and have not provided the diversions and stimulation that she has come to expect. Let's just hope she has a back up generator to keep her hitachi humming in case the snow and ice disrupts her electric service. If Tammy and Jay are not back in action soon, I would advise Suzanne to add a little more depth to her roster.

But we agree, Suzanne. This winter has gotten insufferable. We like snow, but only out West, where we can hit the slopes, or, as we did a few years back, find an isolated camp ground for some outdoor fun, Molly and Mick style:

Love that tan line!

Snow Day

I know, when it snows like hell, and you're in a ski town, the first thing you're supposed to do is grab your skis and head to the mountain, right?  Sort of like Annette and Frankie in those old beach movies when someone yells "surf's up"?

Well I regret to inform you that Mistress and Slave have become fair weather skiers.  When the roads get slippery, and the snow gets a little too thick on the cruising runs, we tend to look for other things to occupy our time. Accuse us of being "fair weather skiers" and we are likely to break down and confess.

That was especially true yesterday, when we woke with some sore legs and backs after four consecutive days on the slopes, about 7 inches of new snow in the yard, and the gregarious Irish DJ on the local radio warning about a bad accident on the road up the canyon that had traffic stopped for the foreseeable future.

Well of course there was some grazing on Mistress's clean shaven folds to conduct, after which she indulged her cock with some compelling mouth to rod resuscitation before allowing me to fuck her.

Slave whipped up some scrambled eggs as we still considered out option of a later than normal trip up to the mountain. But ultimately we acknowledged the obvious -- our motivation to hip the slopes was just not there. So we resigned ourselves to a day of lazy. And though we did do some remote location work for a while, a good bit of the day was spent in front of the fireplace, reading or napping.

At around 1:30 pm we wandered down the street past some of our neighbors frolicking in the new fallen snow:

And we slid into the local ice cream store / breakfast spot / and wifi hot spot for a scoop of some locally made organic ice cream, purportedly free of the bovine growth hormones that the fellow above seems to gorge on. I noticed that the store is now offering a breakfast special named after Mistress:

Thoughts of that "bed of sauteed portabellas, spinach and red onion" had us heading home and back to our own bed. After inquiring whether I had packed my "device" (the aneros), Mistress made it clear she was interested in exploiting the particularly hard and needy cock it can contrive. 

And rest assured, she did.

All in all, I think we put our snow day to good use.

Our Senior Correspondent Gets Cheeky

Weather can change quickly here this time of year. Yesterday Mistress and Slave, after their morning rituals (sexual and otherwise) left the house in sunshine, and ended up skiing in a brisk wind and blowing snow. Since we can be fair weather skiers, we retreated down into the valley, and took a bracing bike ride into a 30 mph wind. Now that was hard work!

By the time we woke from a nap, and a little late afternoon nooky, the snow was falling, and the chair where Mistress had spent Sunday afternoon was under several inches of fluffy white stuff.  So today we get to head back up the mountain where they say the new snow is up to 15 inches, and still falling.  

So it's nice to have the following contribution from Donna to share with you, as Mistress and Slave settle into their spring holiday here in the Mountains.


 

It's A Cheeky Blog Today

Cheeky One

When Bill called me back to the bedroom yesterday evening, I was so excited. I had visions of sucking Bill's penis with my arms cuffed behind my back, of Bill filling every orifice with toys and tongue, of making use of the spreader...right up until the point he sat down on the edge of the bed and motioned for me to get over his lap.

Yep, there was a whole lot of spanking going on, barehanded and strong. We moved from the number owed for using the word "sorry",  to many more for a cheeky attitude that has become more prominent in Bill's opinion, which he reminded me (with a few more swats) is the only opinion that matters on this subject. Then there were some swats for complaining about keeping all the paperwork straight and a few more for General Principle. And by the way, if I ever meet this General Principle dude, we are going to have some words!

Finally, my butt on fire, he told me to follow him to the living room, that he had come across a position he wanted to try in there for spanking and sex , I was hoping for the sex without anymore spanking. The position is rather odd to describe, but basically he turned the rectangular hassock so that the shorter side was between his knees as he sat on the couch. Then he had me kneel on the hassock, and back up toward him. He positioned my knees on the outside of his hips, then had me lower my head onto the hassock. So it was head down, butt up and I got another good spanking right on top of the earlier one. Sore cheeks! Really sore cheeks! But when he finished the spanking and pulled me straight back against his erect penis, I knew he had a position we would return to again soon, hopefully with more focus on sex and less on spanking my red cheeks next time.

Cheeky Two

I had some trouble sleeping and watched an infomercial in the middle of the night for some sort of procedure that makes one's face appear 15 or more years younger. The before and after pictures were quite remarkable, although the fact that none of the women wore makeup or had their hair styled in the before pictures, but were done up to the nines in the after photos did make me wonder a tad. The testimonials were all similar, very similar, with every woman using phrases you don't hear often in general conversation, phrases like, "Now my outside matches my inside."  If you have ever spent any time with Grey's Anatomy, you probably don't want your outside to match your inside. That's why skin is there: to protect and hide the innards. Further explanation by a plastic surgeon, later to be reiterated by a psychologist, was that people are living longer and feeling younger, but their faces don't match their energy levels. Oh, that makes sense. No, wait, I don't think it does.

As I sat there pondering those deeper questions of life, you know the kind, like how could it possibly be that with 20+ channels on our television, this was the cream of the viewing crop, I began to think about what changes I would make to my body if I could. In reflecting on the short-term past, I might have chosen to change that decision to have a cup of strong coffee after dinner, but in trying to contemplate the much bigger picture, my hips came to mind.

Bill loves my hips and my butt, too, and I am very appreciative of that, but recently I have come to understand that my below the waist size is different than I thought. And that hurt me, it really did, right up to the point that it hurt someone else more than it hurt me.  Let me explain.

I was innocently rolling through a warehouse store when I spotted, way off on the horizon, a display of shorts in my favorite color. I grabbed the rims of my personal chariot and did my best impression of a wheelchair athlete in getting over to the display. Yes! The fabric was right, too! Oh, joy! What surer sign of spring? I quickly leaned into the stacks looking for my size. I picked up a pair that seemed to be about right and examined the tag, hunting for the size, and that's when I saw the letter G. I am familiar with S for small and M for medium, but G? So I put the shorts in my lap and rolled over to the clothing section employee to ask about the mysterious size designation.

I waited politely for a break in the clerk's rather lengthy conversation with another female employee, about the prior night's rendezvous with their boyfriends, before making my polite inquiry. The young woman, clearly bothered that there were customers in the store, said in very broken English, "Those will probably fit you. The G stands for grande."  What came to mind was that famous quote by Bugs Bunny, "They don't know me very well, do they?"

From the look that came over her face along with the fact that the other employee backed away and left, I can only suppose my evil grin must have been a clue that something was about to hit the fan. In a very soft, yet steely, voice I said, "That wasn't very nice, now was it? In this tough job market, I would hate for your employment to be placed at risk by this happening again with a less understanding person. So, just to be sure that won't happen, please tell me how you think you might improve the response you just gave me." And as I spoke, I rolled closer and closer, moving in on her personal space. She paled, her English immediately improved and together we worked out a much better response.

When Bill wandered up a few minutes later, I introduced them and thanked her for her assistance, assuring her I would look forward to seeing her next time. She looked at me with big eyes, I smiled, and we both started laughing. Then she gave me a genuine smile and asked if there was anything else she could help me with. lol

After we left the young woman, I rolled over and put the shorts back on the stack. Grande, my ass. Literally!

I'm staying up late tonight to get the name of that place that does the face lifts from the infomercial. I'm okay with my face, but maybe they can make the cheeks in my shorts look 15 years younger. Maybe?

Hugs,
Donna

Snow Day

Mick and Molly got home to River City late last night. And of course the surly teens had not followed their instructions to clear the sidewalks and driveway of all the snow that fell during our brief absence. So what should have been Slave's homework time was spent shoveling....argh.

But the accompanying photo is a  tease for tomorrow's entry....

In the meantime, If any of our more imaginative readers want to supply the narrative....go for it.

Snow Day

When the phone rings here in the heartland at 5:30 am you know its going to be a robo call from the smarmy local school superintendent, letting us know that something is amiss. Yesterday, she let me know in her best insider’s voice that it was a snow day for the sullen teens. They could sleep in. That gave me a little extra time to finish up my faux expose on Mick and Molly’s Super Bowl adventures. Maybe next year, football fans!

I had forgotten to bring the little steel ring downstairs when I crept out of the bedroom, laptop under my arm, trying not to disturb Mistress. So when I came back p to bed to crawl in next to Mistress, her groping fingers discovered something was amiss.

“No ring, Slave?”

I gave my excuses. She snorted in disapproval at my forgetfulness.

“Lame, Slave. Very lame. I like what that ring does to my cock in the morning.”

But I was allowed to worship nonetheless, buried under the covers as she giggled over my work product – though I am not sure she got the part about our side bet on the Who’s play list.

Then Mistress indulged me by letting me take her with my hard, but un-ringed cock. Truth be told, while it makes it ever so harder to come when the tight steel ring grips my swollen balls, the extra effort is rewarded with a very devastating explosion when I cross into no man’s land and obtain Mistress’s permission.

After my shower, I put on my back-up cage, the CB3000 for those of you looking for product placements. Mistress seemed happy as always to close the little padlock, securing her cock away for the day.

Mistress’s business meeting was canceled due to the “white death” falling from the sky, so she worked from home, while her Slave slogged down the snow covered interstate. She did send me a sultry photo of her in bed, taken with her laptop camera, just to remind me of what I was missing.

When I returned home around 5 pm, she allowed me to kneel and worship her. I was happy to slide her tightly fitting exercise pants down those muscular legs, then bury my face between her legs. She lay back to enjoy my attention. And after she came with some soft little moans as I sucked her clit through my teeth, we relaxed on the bed, shuffling through the Times and Journal like a contented married couple.

But there was snow to shovel. Wet heavy snow. I suited and booted up, and took my time. This would be my exercise for the day, and it provided plenty of cardio – effort. When I came back upstairs, Mistress and I both napped a bit before throwing together a late dinner for the teens.

After adjourning to bed, we lazed about some more, watching yet another episode of Damages on our little screen. No sex but compelling characters.

When our show ended, the lights went out. Slave was a bit tired and lazy, but certainly wanted to take his pleasure from Mistress with Abstinence Day on the horizon.

We turned off the lights, and clung to one another, kissing deeply, my thigh pressed between Mistress’s leg, my hand drifting back over her ass to poke into her little brown hole, teasing her a bit in a way that made her hump against me all the harder.

I could sense her breathing tempo accelerate. A good tell that Mistress is getting hotter and hotter. To take her to that first orgasm, I slid my other hand between her legs. With fingers working her from front and back I soon had Mistress sliding over the edge, burying her head in Slave’s chest with little gasps of pleasure.

Mistress worked my cock a bit more, and then gave me permission to climb on board. It turned out to be a long, slow pleasurable session, with Slave getting more and more frustrated as I came so close, only to be held back a bit by diminished energy. I guess it’s what happens when a 59 year old has as much sex as I am allowed. And shovels snow too.

Of course, Mistress was amused. By now she had enjoyed several orgasms, while I was doing all the work.

“Frustrated, Slave?”

Yes, Mistress.”

I stopped for a moment, to take off my T-shirt.

Mistress took a brief break too, climbing from the bed.

“Keep it hard, Slave.”

I used my hand to follow her directive.

When she lay back down next to me, she cupped my balls with her soft, knowing fingers, and told me to keep going.

“Maybe I will have you come this way, Slave.”

I kept working with my hand on a desperate cock. Close.

“Or maybe I will make you watch me masturbate myself. Yes, that’s what I will do…”

Sadly, she moved her hands away from my aching balls, and to herself, laying back, working her hands between her spread legs.

The sight of Mistress pleasuring herself that way has always been a turn on for me….she knows what she’s doing and there are lessons to be learned.

She worked at herself hard, insistently, throwing her head back against the pillow, eyes scrunched tightly closed.

After a few moments, Mistress had one of those shattering explosions that bring sobs from her chest, tears streaming down her face.

I wanted to hold and comfort her. To kiss those tears away.

But I wanted to fuck her even more.

She gave me permission. My energy restored, my imagination inspired, I was soon begging for permission to come.

Now it’s morning, another snow day according to my private robo – caller. I did remember my ring this morning. Mistress will be pleased.