On the Road

MAde it this far

Lots of whining on the family road trip. No one seems interested in a side trip to Holcomb , Kansas to visit the Clutter home.

We stopped at a road side motel just east of Kansas City, looking for the ghost of Harry Truman, the guy who was President at old Mick's arrival here on earth.

And with four of us in one room.... well Mistress got some good night and good morning orgasms with an assist from my skilled digits.  But Mick woke up horny, and since our girls have very sensitive ears, it seems I will stay that way until we arrive at our mountain hideaway this evening.

Up next: a dull traverse of Kansas. We know it's corny in August. But what's in store in December.

Stay tuned.

Early Morning Treats

Mistress and Slave were on the party circuit again last evening …. Yet another retirement party (not sending a good message is it?) and then Mistress’s office holiday extravaganza.

I think at one point I did drop to one of Mistress’s colleagues an aside about how I am her devoted Slave…. But by then the exotic martinis all had been consuming seemed to obliviate the impact of my naughty little remark. (Is that a word --- or am I going all Palin-esque).

By the time we returned home – to a sidewalk that required shoveling – Mistress was in a different zone, lounging about the house in her black tights and bra, a plate of left over apple crisp in her hands. The surly teens were rolling their eyes, amused at their tipsy mom.

But then it is the holidays, and restrained indulgence has it’s place.

In any event, there were no between the sheets indulgence for Molly and Mick last night.

But this morning was a different matter.

Mistress was awake earlier than normal, debriefing with me about the night’s events and our WC’s contacts with her yesterday.

“He was very attentive yesterday, Slave…. “

“AS he should be, Mistress.”

“I think he is anticipating that we won’t be in touch much over the holidays.”

In fact we are heading out to our mountain hideaway this afternoon – driving for a change – much to the consternation of our two pampered divas in training.

“I’m sure he will miss you Mistress….and you will miss those dates.”

“I will Slave….”

Mistress was stretching her arm a bit. She had been annoyed by a sore shoulder this last week, probably from a little too aggressive use of the weight machines at our gym.

I rubbed it with a meaty paw for a while, then reached over, under the bed, for Mistress’s brand new Hitachi.

Sensing my movement, Mistress almost immediately rolled onto her back, spreading those delicious thighs….

“Wait, Mistress…. I was going to use it on your shoulder.”

I think she was a little disappointed.

“Sorry, Slave…. I thought you had something else in mind.”

“Well let’s just say I was going to start on your shoulder….”

And I did. The cover story on the box is true. It does help relieve the pain of sore muscles.

But then I soon had the churning device sliding down her back, then between those slightly parted thighs. And the aroma of Mistress’s wanton arousal was soon coursing through the room.

“Ummmm….. let me roll over Slave….”

She did, and was soon writhing as the lead of the tool focused on her dripping folds.

She struggled to extend to ecstasy a bit, directing me with her words and hands. But soon Mistress succumbed to the relentless power of the Magic Wand, with some of those lovely moans, her hips rising off the bed.

And as she was coming down, she wanted something else.

“Give me the cock, Slave. I need it now.”

And it was more than ready to serve her.


Look forward to our reports from the road this weekend. And wave if we drive by you some where in Missouri or Kansas!

Today's Other Kinky Kookie Bloggers

Here are links to today's other cookie blogs. Enjoy them all:

Alice

Ally
Cultivated Discipline

Elysia
Externally Motivated Wife
greengirl
Hedone

Kirsti
Jz
Kelly Red
Molly and Mick
mouse
nilla
Sara
selkie (NB- recipe posted chez Jz, though!)
sephani paige

sin
Striving for Peace

Tempting Sweets
turiya
Xantu

HNT/ Kinky Krisp

It’s the Holidays, and even our strange little kinky Blogger community has to take a break from egging each other on to new sexual exploits, and take notice.

It wouldn’t be the Holidays in the Collins household without decadent tempting sweets lying about the house, to help us all lower our centers of gravity as we get ready for a ski vacation with our surly teens at our secret mountain hideaway. What’s the difference between bending your knees and just letting them buckle?

Earlier this week, SFP recruited good old Mick for the cookie-palooza promoted by a variety of our sub sisters.

My guess is that I’m just affirmative action window dressing – but I’m game. Hopefully, I  am a  credit to my gender when it comes to larding up family and friends for the holidays.

There’s just one problem:  While Mistress has a profound sweet tooth, she also has a wheat allergy. So when Mick is called on to make a desert it has to be wheat-less.

I’ve perfected in my own haphazard way an Apple Crisp that gets Mistress salivating even as it warms in the oven. And I’m sharing it with you here with a few illustrations from the one I prepared Sunday evening for our Christmas dinner with extended family here in River City.

First, grease a pan or glass dish and fill it with apple chunks: a pan that’s about 15” x 8” will take about 4 to 6 apples, depending on size. I like to have a variety of apple categories available to make the taste a little more complex. Sort of like one of Aisha’s and D’s munches with that strange mix of kinksters coming in various ages, dimensions and preferences, all ogling one another.  Pears can go into the mix too.

Here is a picture of what the apples should look like once cored and chunked. I’m way to lazy to skin the apples. I must have gotten that from our WC.

Once the apples are arrayed in the dish or pan, pore about ½ cup of water over them. 

Now would be a good time to pre-heat the oven to 375 degrees. (Higher if at altitude of 6500 feet or more.)

Of course you could just bake the apples. They would be tasty and healthy. But then you’d miss the sugar and butter.

That’s coming next.

Get out a mixing bowl, and fill it with one cup of brown sugar, one cup of refined white sugar, and two cups of thick cut oats.

To the mix add a cup of nuts: walnuts or peanuts or cashews will do,  but not too salty, unless you are into that. 

Then add a teaspoon of nutmeg and two teaspoons of cinnamon.

Take one stick of butter and soften it up. 30 seconds in the microwave does it for me. But you can melt it in a sauce pan too.

Pour the butter into the bowl with all the other stuff, and mix it roughly together with a wooden spoon --- you know the kind that can also double for an implement to redden a sub’s bottom. (D’s risotto spoon would do).

Once the goop is all blended together, and you have most of the lumps out of the brown sugar, it looks sort of like this:

The final step is to spread your oaty, sugary mix over the apples, trying your best to get it evenly distributed, corner to corner.  It will look like this:

Cover the pan with a sheet of aluminum foil, and stick it in the oven for about 30 minutes.  Then remove the aluminum foil and let it cook for another 30 minutes, crisping the top.

It can sit in the oven for a while after that, cooling a bit.  The final product will look like this:

Dish your crisp onto a plate. Serve it with Ice Cream if this is not sweet enough for you.

Of course, now I’m hungry, and there are leftovers from Sunday sitting in the fridge. I wonder if Mistress will let me smear it on her lovely tummy and suck it off?


______________________________

Amazingly, Mistress fell for this little stunt.

"Anything for blog material, Slave."


Of course, I warmed a plate of the leftover concoction a bit in the microwave first. Cold crisp on Mistress's warm tummy would have gotten Slave into big trouble. 

"Maybe I should tie your hands behind your back and make you eat it that way, Slave."


I suppose that would have made it all the more delicious.


And when I had lapped up the last delicious morsel, and my lips and tongues moved lower to pleasure Mistress for being such a good sport,  the sugary, cinnamon taste of the crisp belended Oh so wonderfully with the taste of Mistress's delectable secretions.


"What tastes better Slave, me or the crisp?"


"Well it's a close call, but you, of course, Mistress."


I may want to have a little more before heading to work this morning.

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