Managing the Clock

One of those well worn football clichés is that a coach “manages the clock” well. Or not so well, depending on the final score.

Yesterday was one of those days when Mistress and her Slave managed their clock pretty dang well:

I was up pre-dawn, to do my “homework”.

Then, as the sun was rising over “our” mountain (the one in the photo yesterday), we read in bed for a bit, before Slave dove into Mistress’s fragrant folds with hungry lips and tongue, to be rewarded – once she was satisfied -with the opportunity to take Mistress with my firm “work-a-day” cock.

“It was particularly hard this morning, Slave”, Mistress told me afterwards.

That’s something a Slave always likes to hear.

After breakfast, we headed up to the Ski Mountain under a bright, cloudless ski, for our first runs of the season. Not much of the mountain is open yet, but it was nice to get in those first turns, stretch out those muscles and enjoy the sunshine.

But after about 6 runs, the trail was getting a bit crowded with other people’s surly teens (even worse than one’s own), so we decided to retreat back to our hideaway for lunch.

There was lunch at that infamous picnic table…. Fresh mozzarella and tomatoes for me; some Spanish goat cheese on spelt bread for Mistress.

Mistress had already laid out a Mexican Blanket on a lounge chair… she was stripped down to her (surprise) black long undies, and after lunch settled into a luxurious nap under that amazing sun – it was up to 50 degrees by now.

I raked up some late fall leaves, then planned to read as Mistress rested, but soon found my self snoring on an adjoining chair.

But by around 2 pm, Mistress was awake.

“Time for our bike ride, Slave…. Then I’m going to fuck you in the ass.”

What else could I say, but “Yes, Mistress.”

My cardio system handled the ride better than the evening before. We are already re-adjusted to the altitude.

We returned about an hour later, a bit sweaty, justifying a shower before our planned activities. As I was drying off, Mistress took charge.

“Get out my supplies Slave….and the riding crop too.”

I hopped to, and soon Mistress had her harness on, riding crop in hand.

“Roll over, Slave. I want to see that bottom.”

She had a little trouble coming up with a good excuse for my discipline…. Quite frankly it was so lame I can’t remember it now… but it was enough to justify a firm and steady flurry of blows to my bottom.

By the time she was done, I was squirming, chewing on a pillow to stifle my exclamations.

Ouch.

Mistress is taking this up a notch. Which is probably good for her Slave.

Tossing the crop aside, she climbed into bed next to me, and we clung and cuddled a while, as her hands roamed over my reddened butt and my straining cock.

And then she was positioning me to be taken with her “tool”. Mistress took her time - thrusting home, filling me, until she was moaning with her own climax, before collapsing onto me, her work done.

After catching her breath, Mistress extracted herself, removed her harness, and returned to bed. Now it was my turn to do the penetrating. And I was happy to oblige.

After we were both spent, I fell asleep, spooned against Mistress, as she read a novel. About 30 minutes later, I was woken by the sound of her I-phone’s ring.

“Hmmmm….. it’s the Western Correspondent, Slave ….”

“Go ahead and talk, Mistress,,,, I’ll get up and start dinner preparation.”

I slid out of bed, still a bit groggy, and pulled my jeans …. Commando …. But there was no biking planned, so the odds of M style cock chafe were slight ….

Then I closed the door behind me to give the “little lovebirds” some privacy. They’d not spoken much in the last two days. My sense was that they both were a little needy on that front…. And a good Slave tries to accommodate his Mistress’s needs.

When Mistress emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, she was dressed, and announced she was heading down the street to do a little Christmas shopping for our teens.

“M says he might call me while you watch your football game tonight, Slave.”

“That’s fine, Mistress….”

Ah … football. Back to that….

My alma mater had it’s big rivalry game last night. Fortunately I was able to jerry rig our tiny TV to get it here. I knew I would be poor company for Mistress as I suffered through their travails … could they end that long ignominious losing streak to these notorious cheaters? It could be a long evening.

So as I settled into the game…. getting dinner ready too, I had no qualms that Mistress got her call from M near the end of the first quarter.

“Do you mind, Slave….”

She is a considerate Mistress, even though she has no need to ask my permission.

I told her where her Hitachi could be found, in case it’s use was required on her “date” with M. And as I watched my team manage their clock well at the end of the first half --- two TD’s in the final 2 minutes – I could hear Mistress’s soft, murmuring voice through the wall to our bedroom.

We were both in our own form of heaven.

At the half, Mistress emerged, a contented look on her face.

She inquired about the score. And after I told her the good guys were clinging to a precarious lead, I asked if she had scored too.

“Yes Slave…. But he had me use my fingers this time….”

You’ll me happy to know that my alma mater won….. at last. Mistress spent the rest of the game curled on the couch, in front of the fire, snoozing in contentment.

And we were both in bed by around 10 pm or so….my arm wrapped around her.

All told, I think we get an A for our own Saturday clock management. But that does not make us Bowl Eligible. Unless there is a bowl for sexual excess.

Hunkered Down in Our Hideaway

After a long day of traveling, and some “in-air antics” inspired by Aisha’s dare, Mistress and her Slave made it to our little hideaway here in the shadow of the Sangre de Christo Mountains.

It was a beautiful, cloud free day for that 3 hour drive, though the temperature was dropping in inverse proportion to the altitude’s increase.  And as her Slave drove through beautiful vistas, Mistress read a book and kept in touch with M via text message. He was skiing with family a  hundred miles or so to the north, where there has been considerably more snow. 

So they traded photos – he and his kids on skis, and Mistress’s shot of the fresh guacamole at a charming restaurant we stopped for lunch along the way.

We stopped for provisions at a local organic grocery store, and quickly jumped back in the car as the sun sank precariously low – Mistress was determined to get a bike ride in before we lost the “magic hour” light  that made Georgia O’Keefe give up the Big City all those decades ago.

As we pulled out of the grocery store parking lot, Mistress’s text chime went off. It was M, back from skiing and eager to talk. Mistress had sent him a little teaser text about her in-flight O, and he wanted the details.

Soon they were chatting.

“I had this big sweater with me, so it just went over my lap…. And then I slid off my pants underneath.  It was actually pretty easy….”

“He says he’s proud of us, Slave….”

“I offered to get the Slave off on the plane…. But he said it might be too messy.”

“Plus I was on the aisle, Mistress….”

It’s hard for me not to toss in a line or two when my name comes up. Impertinent, I know.

“True, Slave… I think he’s kind of horny now, M….. “

Her hand reached over, running a finger down the fly of my jeans.  She was right.  The scent of her musky juices had clung to my fingers through the afternoon and my Pavlovian reflexes were pathetically true to form.

“But first, a bike ride…. It’s been a long day of sitting on our asses, and it’s so beautiful out.”

“Of course, Mistress….”

M and Molly chatted a bit longer, until the cell reception faded, and we were pulling into our driveway.

We had no more than 30 minutes of a sinking sun left, so scrambled to unlock the bikes, round up some gloves and hats, and head out.  By now it was in the low 30’s and darn chilly, particularly in the brisk wind coming down off the mountains.

And Slave was huffing and puffing as we hit that first hill…. Feeling my age and the altitude. I had forgotten the value of acclimatization, but Mistress was right. We needed the exercise.

And we made it back in one piece, in the dark by the time we finished our circuit, stars popping out in the high dessert sky.

Beautiful.

Now we had time to unpack our provisions, make sure things were in good order.

I poured Mistress a Tequilla,  and myself an Jamieson.

Now the time had come…..

“Why don’t you take off your cloths and get in bed, Slave….”

“Excellent idea, Mistress….”

Soon we were warming ourselves under the covers, Slave naked, Mistress still in those lacy black panties, and nothing else.

“Wow…. Your bottom is still cold, Mistress….”

It was still warming up after those 45 minutes  in the saddle. I used my hands to warm her chilly cheeks, occasionally dipping between them to confirm that she was already moist and juicy for me.

And her fingers were busy too…. Fondling my cold cock until the blood began to flow back and remind me how very long it had been. 

(Yeah, Sin, I know 36 hours is hardly a big deal….but still.)

Mistress was rewarded with a few more digitally induced orgasms as we clung to one another to spread the warmth. And soon I was begging for the privilege of fucking Mistress. 

“Yes you may, Slave… I think you’ve waited long enough.”

Indeed, it sure seemed I had…. And I began robustly, sliding hard into her, working to make sure she had an orgasm or too before I was begging for the privilege.

But I had forgotten the cunning logic of high altitude sex…. Pace yourself. No matter how horny a male slave might be…. When you come from the flatlands to 7500 feet or higher, it’s easy to lose your breath.

So Slave had to back off a bit, slow, then vary the pace.  And WTF, there was no rush… No kids to drive or nag us…. No schedule at all.

So Mistress got her money’s worth…. And hopefully a premium, as Slave took his time to get her over the top a few more times, with those languorous shudders and precious moans.

And soon enough, Slave was begging too: Desperate for release, and then, after permission was granted, coming for her in a series of eruptions that seemed like it had been a week, not a day….

Ahhhh….

Mistress is very kind.

I slept for a bit then, while Mistress read.  I think I woke to the chime of her text message.

She reached for it, laughed.

“It’s the Western Correspondent, Slave… eh wants to know what the two lunatics are up to….”

“Aren’t you glad he’s keeping you on a short leash, Mistress?”

“Why yes, Slave…. I am.”

In-Air Antics

The Crazy Collins couple were up early this morning, to catch a 7:15 am flight.  So no morning sex for us. Just a quick shower and a dash to the airport. Which was amazingly deserted.

M had speculated about the type of security screening we might encounter.

"He said he hopes I get the full body cavity search, Slave....he thinks that would be funny."

But, alas, M.... the TSA "gestapo" was sleeping in after indulging themselves on turkey and schnapps . There were no humiliating full  body scans to whet the prurient appetites of sinister "Big Government" storm-troopers, like Rush Limbaugh had promised we would encounter. There was not  even an invasive pat down for the shapely Molly. As it turns out, I didn't even have to avoid wearing my cage....There was just  the same old conveyer belts and a friendly 'bon voyage'.

So now we are safely on board our flight out west, after making our connection in Atlanta

Google is providing free wifi on Delta for the Holidays... inspiring.... well.....

We were paging through our fellow bloggers entries.... Some hot ones this morning, particularly to a guy who has not "done it" since Thursday morning. More than 24 hours now and counting. (Of course, Mistress got off yesterday afternoon while talking with M, but who's keeping track?)

And there comes Aisha, with a comment, wondering if there will be any in-air antics to report on.

It was sort of like throwing down the gauntlet to Molly and Mick.

Fortunately, Mick was shrewd enough to book us seats on the side of the plane with only two seats. Though there is the disadvantage of that un-moveable arm rest between us....not to worry.

Mistress has a black wrap type sweater (it was cold this morning in River City)... and it spreads nicely across her lap.

"Why don't you slide off those pants, Mistress."

"Ummm .... OK Slave."

She spread the sweater over her lap. Then wriggled out of her tight jeans. There are some nice, lacey black undies underneath.

I hand her my computer....

"You may want to read Aisha nice little fantasy about submitting to a certain Dom, Mistress...."

"Sure, Slave... let me see."

As she's scrolling down through that fantasy about Aisha's frustrating wait for her Dom's attention, my fingers are under the sweater, doing what they have been well and thoroughly trained to do.

"Ummm.... this is hot Slave...."

I wasn't sure if the reference was to Aisha's elegant prose, or my massaging fingers.

But the inevitable consequence was soon upon her.... a little shuddering quake from Mistress, as she buried her mouth in my shoulder.

"Nice.... Slave."

Unfortunately, I think Slave is expected to wait patiently for his own reward until we reach our little mountain hideaway...

I think we may have to defer appreciating the view once we get there, at least for a while.

Heading West

 We made it through the obligatory ritual family feast.

What a relief to have it over with.

In the morning, Molly and Mick are up early, and headed out to our little Southwestern hideaway. Yeah, this is the view from our backyard.  Don't you think it would be a great venue for that kinky blogger's conference we've been speculating about?

Here's a song about our little chunk of paradise....

Beautiful Valley

.... we will be back with you Saturday morning.