HNT/ The Return of Abstinence Day

Sin over at “Finding My Submission” asked some question in a comment yesterday about Abstinence Day.  Is it a tradition? Have we mentioned it before? Exactly what does it involve? And what does Mistress get out of it?

Well it’s a tradition in the Collins’ household in the same way that tweeting is: it goes back all the way to the long ago of the fall of 2009, right about the time Slave and Mistress signed their contract.

The notion was that Slave was spoiled: lots of sex, almost “on demand”. And while Mistress likes having sex on most every occasion (setting aside moments like Tuesday night after a long flight home, followed by an hour of stopped dead in Inter-state traffic past midnight, with surly teens grousing in the back, and us wondering how we will ever get up for work in the AM), she believed one good way to exercise control over her Slave was to show him that she (and only she) gets to decide when and if he can come.

The contract provides for “no touching” without her permission. I have come to accept that without difficulty. Though the thought of not being able to touch (even now as I type) does have a certain physical impact, even as I type this.

But, since we do have sex rather frequently, it’s rarely a difficult promise to keep.

The contract also says that I am not allowed to come while having sex without asking for and receiving  her permission. That’s something that is usually granted immediately upon request, though there are occasions when some begging is required.

Mistress does like to hear that desperation in my voice when I am very, very, very close and am struggling to restrain myself.

Abstinence Day was introduced early on in our Contractual relationship as a way to enhance that desperation. Originally the notion was that on Wednesday I would be expected to worship and otherwise serve Mistress with no expectation of my own reward until the following day.

This sometimes created unexpected problems though.

Example: I licked and sucked Mistress on a Wednesday evening, but was required to withdraw and go to sleep afterwards, deferring my own reward until Thursday.

We sleep in a double size bed. Close and cuddly.  But on those occasions, Slave would sometimes sleep fitfully. I would wake at 3 am or so with my cock as hard as rock, poking at Mistress and disturbing her beauty rest. Then, despite my devotion to her, I would find my fingers between her legs, waking her, and appealing to her more generous instincts to allow me access to her sumptuous cunt.

And I can’t ever recall being turned down under those circumstances.

While I suspect Mistress was not happy to lose that precious sleep, she is just too kind to push me out of bed and tell me to come back for her at a more respectable hour.

But it may be that these middle of the night interludes had gotten Mistress off of the Abstinence requirements these last few months.

Which brings me to yesterday.

We woke groggy from our late night of travel, our bodies still tuned to Mountain time. But work duty called.

I offered to worship Mistress after she showered, and she allowed it. I was on my knees, the taste of her clean shaven and nicely scrubbed parts were an excellent complement to my morning coffee. And while she patted my cock in gratification afterwards, I was still so sleepy that I had no problem with deferring my gratification.

Last night, after all of the catch-up at work, I came home to a yard out of control. So I spent some time mowing and weed whacking in  our dank, hot and dirty River City “Air”. After a shower to wash away the grime, I was given the opportunity to pleasure Mistress again, from my knees, as she lay across our bed.

Freshly cleaned and naked, my cock stood out at attention by the time I was done. Mistress was amused, but hardly moved to do anything about it.

“Hmmm….I think something wants me, Slave.”

“Oh, yes.”

“I I like that….one of my favorite benefits of Abstinence Day.”

After dinner and watching the DVR’ed “Christmas Party” episode of Mad Men (sadly, I am old enough to have been to a Christmas Party like that), We retired to bed.

Mistress had hinted that I might be rewarded for good behavior. So my hopes were up.

We both were naked, Mistress laying across the bed, working on her Vanilla Blog.

“Put in your device Slave. But I am going to make you wait at least until I finish this…”

Things were looking up. Hard to imagine that she would be so cruel as to make me use the little white probe and then tell me to wait until morning. Or would she?

“Yes, Mistress,” was all I said.

I slid into bed next to her, cock already beginning to grow from the influence of the probe.

My face rested against her lush and shapely ass. I had initially thought about reading through the Times as she revised and edited away, but somehow her bottom was too tempting.

So I proceeded to rest my head there, using lips and tongue to bathe it with affection.

She wiggled a bit, looking over her shoulder at me.

“Go gently Slave. Don’t distract me with any orgasms until I am done here.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

So close to a reward, I did not want to cross her.

So I respectfully attended to her bottom without overly stimulating her more sensitive parts.

All the while my cock is getting harder.

Finally she was done, folding away her laptop, pressing close to me, laughing at how hard my cock had become.

I used fingers to give her a starter cum as she wriggled against me.

Then, my cock as hard as ever, I asked for permission to slide inside.

“You may, Slave.  But I am still not sure that I will let you come tonight.  Let’s just see how it goes, and don’t ask for permission when it’s too late to stop if I decide to say ‘No’.”

I was happy to take any license granted.

Soon I was pistoning away at her , making sure to deliver the type of orgasm that would put Mistress in an indulgent mood.

After she seemed satisfied, but was still sighing and wriggling beneath me, I was closing in on the point of no return.

“Mistress, can I come?”

“Not just yet, Slave….I’m still considering….”

Argh. Pacing. Close. Back off. Close again.

I was at the point where I would have to go forward or retreat altogether.

I made one last request.

“Pretty Please, Mistress…..”

“Yes….you may  come now, Slave.”

Ahhhh.

And my clever Mistress got a very good and undisturbed night’s sleep.

Back in River City

We made it back late last night....though some might question whether it was prudent to leave a place where it was a sunny 57 degrees yesterday morning, to a town in a muggy, smoggy river valley where temperatures read 95 degrees on our car thermometer as we slogged through a post midnight traffic jam last night on our way home.

Why bother? Was it beecause as Surly teen number 2 said: "I miss my stuff." Or was it because our employers were about to empty our offices and ask us where they should send our stuff?

Regardless, Slave is far too exhausted and pressed for time to do a proper blog for you this morning.

Thanks to those commentators yesterday who were worrying about Slave's "denial" when we were so rudely interrupted in the hot springs yesterday. Not to worry. Slave was duly allowed to take his pleasure from Mistress Monday evening, after teens were fed and we watched a grand lipstick sunset.

And I also enjoyed her favor yesterday morning, before our bike ride and packing off to the airport for the long trip home.

Now it's my abstinence day. Mistress has resolved to resist my horny importunings this evening as she tightens the collar, metaphorically speaking. I will report back and let you know what happens,

But for those of you who believe that a picture is worth a thousand words (and I know you are out there) I am throwing in two to make up for my brevity. One with Mistress heading down to our little private paradise on Monday. Another with her wading into that cool and free flowing river.

Parents on the Lam

It was our last full day here on vacation. The stress of returning to work and prepping the sullen teens for the start of school looms dark and ugly before us.

We had planned a final outing to the Hot Springs, deep in the River Gorge near here. But as I was typing away on a work project, determined to Email  it off to clients and colleagues before noon – our designated departure time – Sullen teen 1 came out onto the patio :

“Dad….do we really need to go today…we’ve done this before.”

I lost my cool.

“You mean you really want to spend your last day here parked in front of the TV watching movies you’ve seen about a dozen times? “

“That’s better than going on another stupid hike”.

Changing tactics, I appealed to her “good hostess” side.

“Does P (the boyfriend) really want to be cooped up in side all day?”

“ Yes.  he got a sunburn yesterday….”

I guess it was the Arayan complexion that did him in.  Or some latent ignoramous gene that resists the application of sunscreen.

Naturally I capitulated, but with a certain belligerence.

“Fine….stay home. Get bored.”

Then the light went off in my head……FREEDOM….on our last day.  What was to resent. Huzzah!

To Molly, who was lying nearby, lounging in the sun, and listening to me being snappish to my 18 year old darling:

“Quick let’s get our asses out of here before they change their minds.”

We speedily assembled our two person picnic lunch.  In moments, we were churning gravel as we peeled out of our drive. Our last words to them were “we will be back for dinner….”

Molly was texting with M as we headed down the dirt road that rimmed the deep river gorge, a gorgeous view of our verdant mountains stretching almost 360 degrees across the horizon.

“I told him we were kid-less and heading to the nude hot springs, Slave.”

“And what did he say?”

“He says he wants the photographer to take and send him a photo of his nude cunt.”

“Happily, Mistress.”

We scrambled down   the ½ mile “hike” over a boulder strewn path that, 150 years ago, had accommodated a stage coach line connecting our little town to the “Chili Line” rails that once ran along the West side of the gorge, all the way  north toward Denver.

As we made our way to the bottom, where Dennis and Peter once cavorted with two naked lovelies in a scene from “Easy Rider”, we spotted two naked fellows, cavorting with one another in the cool river water, riding the current down stream.

On the tiny sandy beach where Mistress and Slave planned to spend their afternoon, Mistress chatted up the two guys, who’s substantial endowments were on display for her to admire, about the water temperature and depth. They were charming and charmed, but seemed far more interested in one another than us (seemingly) vanilla types.

Soon, Mistress had her bathing suit off, and was stretched across the beach, engrossed in her book. Though she took some time to pose for a few choice photos to share with M, as he required.

But when the two gentlemen dressed and began their hike back up the trail, we saw our opportunity and took it.  The hot springs were now our little private domain.

We scrambled over the rocks and slid into a pool formed by a ring of stacked rocks, about 10 feet long and 6 feet wide. Perfect for the two of us.

No surly teens. No nakey guys.  Just a Mistress and her devoted Slave.

The water seemed just two degrees below the temperature of our bodies. Warm and cooling at the same time. Perfect for wallowing while the high desert sun beat down on our little private paradise.

On our backs in the toasty pool, about 4 feet deep, we could peer up along the rocky face of the gorge, the rim a steep 500 feet above us.

We imagined Butch and Sundance taking their crazy jump, a scene filmed some where along this River all those years ago.

But we were not going to waste this brief opportunity reminiscing about old movies or pointing out fluffy clouds that looked like bunnies or sheep.

Soon my naked Mistress was floating next to me, back up, my fingers sliding between her legs in the warm, transparent waters.

As  we kissed,  deep and long, I tickled and coaxed her naughty parts to at least two shivering, shuddering  orgasms.

Then she turned her attention to me, which I accommodated by sliding my black bathing suit to my knees. (Yes dear readers, I am a wimp when it comes to public displays of my aging ass and cock).

Soon her fingers had me hard and longing. But that led to a little ethical “debate”.

“Ummm, Mistress…would it be weird for me to discharge my fluids into this warm, natural tub…. I mean, what if some naked, fertile  woman climbed in later today….is there a chance that 20 years from now I get a call from some 19 year old girl, named Hortensa, asking if I spent some time in a hot springs in August 2010, and  looking for some financial support to attend Harvard?”

But as I was calculating the remote odds, Mistress was ahead of me. This was an opportunity not to be missed. (Or blogged about.)

Somehow, despite the odd physical dynamics created by the warm water, she had wriggled her cunt onto my hard cock and was riding it with an enthusiasm that was contagious.

And despite the odd posture I needed to maintain to keep myself parked inside of her, a combination of balancing and floating to keep our bodies tightly engaged despite our natural buoyancy, I was close.

 Oh so close.

Oh so very close.

Damn. Was that some old fart on the trail above us, wearing a floral shirt that seemed to match the one on his wife, who  following about 5 yards behind.

Not wanting to scandalize, Mistress promptly detached herself from my pole, and scrambled back to the beach, with her Slave in hot pursuit.

With this new company, Mistress modestly slid on her bottoms. But this was a nude beach after all. So her breasts remained on display. I even smeared on some additional sunscreen.

And so we spent the rest of our afternoon, enjoying our books, the sound of the flowing water, the cool breeze it generated, the warming sun, and one another’s company. With no one nagging “Can’t we go home now.”

It was a perfect “last day of vacation” day.

But as the sun began to hide behind the western rim, we realized it was probably time to head back to our (by now) hungry little family unit, if only for fear that they would be calling “Mountain Rescue”, and calculating how long their Mastercards would work if we were not around to mail in the monthly checks.

When we returned, their bodies seemed not to have moved from the couch in front of the DVD player. Though the dirty dishes piled in the sink provided some evidence to the contrary.

“God….how could you stay down there so long?”, one of them asked at dinner.

“Oh, We kept ourselves busy….”

“That sounds really boring.”

Back in (Semi) Cilvilization

There may be no garbage pick-up here at our undisclosed location, but the sullen teens are happy again: they are back to their laptops, cell signals and DVD players after out “let’s rough it” venture into Southern Colorado.

And Mick and Molly are happy to have a little more privacy.

Not that we didn’t have fun.

There was our chance to “ooh” and “ah” at the great sand dunes national park, about a three hour drive away. The hike to the top of the highest dune, at about 9500 ft. above River City level, is taxing on aging ankles and lungs. But the view is gorgeous and the swells and curves of the wind blown landscape are downright voluptuous.

Of course, in the spirit of one of those bad Chevy Chase vacation movies, we were just a few minutes late to cop the last camp site in the national park.

That had us (momentarily) all tented up with nowhere to pitch. And of course the teens were quickly on their I-phones in search of the nearest Ritz Carlton.

But Molly was too quick for them. We ended up at the “Dunes Recreation Pool”, campground, in nearby Hooper (Pop. 23), a novel enterprise parked in a sea of sagebrush with a full size pool and assorted soaking tubs filled from a toasty geothermal spring. At a big hydroponic green house next door, they claimed to grow tomatoes, and sure enough there were some fresh ones on sale. But I did wonder what else was on the vines inside those massive structures.

So after the tents were assembled, and burgers were grilled, and the evening cooled, we were able to plop into a 100 degree pool, and watch the local teen cowboys and cowgirls cavort.

Thankfully, there were no prissy lifeguards enforcing prohibitions on PDA’s like at our own neighborhood pool back in River City. In fact, there were no damn lifeguards at all. Not the cowboy way!

What about Sex, you might ask? (Well you wouldn’t be here for pedestrian travel blogging would you?)

Things were a little lean in that department.

By the time we slipped into our sleeping bags on Friday night, both Mistress and Slave were a tad tuckered. And the kids were still chatting in the next tent. I offered my tongue in comfort, but Mistress demurred.

“I’m good, Slave.”

The morning was different though. The teens were still sleeping (though later they protested that they barely got a wink).

So Mistress graciously accepted the ministrations of her Slave’s fingers, and then my cock. Though we accomplished our mission without the usual bells and whistles. The ground was hard and I did not want to hurt Mistress’s back.

After some more pool lolling, we headed up to the Crestone Music Festival, a hippie flash back extravaganza in the shadow of some impressive 14, 000 footers. The festival was long on vegan treats and short on electricity to fuel the bands’ sound systems. The generator looked like a recycled lawn mower engine. The most interesting event was the ladies’ log splitting contest. The winner surely could have kicked this Slave’s ass.

But the event had its benefits.

“There are some nice mountain men types here, Slave.”

Mistress has spent some time in the back country, and several western states over her years. And she does have an unquenchable hankering for the type of men who are short on words and long on rugged.

One from Durango chatted her up a bit, as I stood by. Though his boasting about the peaks he had bagged this summer grew a bit tedious.

By the time we moseyed on back to the Hooper Pool, and had our evening soak, storm clouds were gathering. I had a sense this storm could cramp our style once we climbed into our sack.

Sure enough, as the wind picked up, thunder rumbled and lightening flashed, sullen teen 2 was suddenly climbing into our tent, seeking parental protection. (the other one was safely in the arms of her boyfriend in an adjoining tent, apparently no longer in need of her parents’ solace)

She was lobbying for a quick exit: “The weather channel says its going to storm all night, and tomorrow too.” (Yes, the place had wifi and her I-phone was all over it).

We told her to chill, and she lay there next to us as the wind rattled the tent, and (only) a few drops penetrated to dampen, but not soak us.

By the time the storm had passed, Mistress was sleeping like a baby.

In the morning, I was hoping to at least enjoy a quickie, but the teens were skulking about and the dogs of neighboring campers were yapping, making the privacy issue come to the fore.

But as Mistress read a book, I did slide my fingers into her shorts, making her squirm a bit until she came with a little, gratifying gasp.

So make that 1.5 on the weekend sex scale.

AS we were driving home, Mistress briefly found a signal and texted M with the Weekend update.

His “LOL” response to our paltry activity level was well received.

But by early afternoon we were back to our more comfortable digs here in the shadows of another set of kinder, gentler mountains. Mistress caught up on sleep out on our patio, and added to her lovely tan. We shook the cricks out of our muscles with a late afternoon bike ride. And then it was to bed for our afternoon “nap”..

The teens just happy to be back to what teens do.

Nothing.

But back to our chambers.

The door was open, accommodating a cooling breeze off the mountains.

Mistress had stripped off her charming tie dye two piece bathing suit.

Slave was naked too, as he should be.

“What about switch Day, Slave.”

“I think we’ve missed that Mistress. Plus I may be too desperate for some long drawn out scene. I need you. Now. ASAP.”

She stood there, a hand cupping my balls, a finger straying to the underside of my quickly enlarging cock.

“That’s what I like to hear, Slave. Desperation. You may have to get used to it. Remember, Abstinence Day starts up again on Wednesday.”

Ah yes. The firmer hand she had talked about. Something M has been coaching her on during their morning phone calls. My cock lurches up one more notch at the thought of it all.

“Go put in your device, Slave.”

“Of course, Mistress.”