Full Moon Rising

Mistress woke yesterday in a troubled countenance.

I had a bad dream, Slave….”

Uh Ohhh..  I kind of knew what the subject was.

“I dreamed you left me….”

I wondered if all that talk about poly relationships and insecurities through comments on Sin’s blog the other day had reopened some subconscious paranoia for her.

“Of course, you know I won’t Mistress…. You are stuck with me.”

Then I tried to prove with tongue and cock that my devotion was still quite real. Hopefully it exorcised those demons, at least for a while.

After a morning of skiing, and some mid-afternoon R & R, the Collins clan headed into town for some grocery shopping, and to pick up some holiday gifts on order for us.

The little plaza was all lit up with farolitos and a full moon was rising over the dramatic mountain that  looms over this community, founded all those years ago as a staging area for ventures into the vast wilderness.

It’s the sort of scene that Molly and Mick swoon over. But our surly teens? Well…. From them it’s “when are we leaving…. It’s cold out…. And are we really going to have to drive all the way home?

I am a little concerned that they might conspire to poison one of us in order to get a Medivac flight back to River City.

We opted to drive this time because the airlines have rigged the pricing system for tickets so badly that holiday flights are absurdly expensive. And also to teach the teens something that they need to learn: life isn’t always about taking the cushiest solution to any specific problem.

But after we had filled two grocery carts with provisions for some big communal meals this week with visiting friends, we stopped for Pizza at a funky joint that makes a crust of spelt that Mistress is fond of, and  the teens were in a more chipper mood.  The elder teen even took some photos of Mistress on her I-phone between slices, scanning and responding to text messages, just like the teens do at many of our family meals.

“Who is texting you? “, they demanded to know. Mistress provided a cover story about her friend Sarah back home, but I suspected otherwise.

On the drive home, Mistress muttered to me, “Slave, do you mind if I call the WC when we get home…. He’s desperate to talk to me….”

Well it’s hard to imagine the WC putting it that way, macho dude that he is, but I got the point. Mistress was pleased to get the attention. And of course what sort of Slave would have the temerity to say “No”.  I did wonder if the girls had heard her call me “Slave” though.

So as one surly teen helped me stow our provisions, Mistress shuttered herself on our room. I put on some Christmas tunes to make sure her voice could not be heard on the other side of our door.

Once my tasks were done, I settled down in front of the fire place, with laptop and book. And soon Mistress joined me. She had some answers to the questions haunting our readers: how was it that M’s brother was able to slide his finger up the ass of not one, not two, but three suburban moms at that weekend party?

“He says that his brother is the happy-go-lucky sort, who’s always buying the drinks and taking folks to dinner…. So it would not be unusual if, after a few drinks, he would ask a woman if it was ok to slide his hand down the back of her pants.”

Ok, so it’s a strange Midwestern social obligation playing itself out…. and it’s just a matter of manual dexterity and happenstance that a finger ends up the subject’s ass once the initial permission is granted.

I don’t think I will be trying this trick at home…. But you have to admire the audacity.  This guy needs his own blog!

AS it turned out, Mistress and M just had a chat …. No orgasms involved.  But Mistress did share something else.

“I told M about my dream, Slave.”

“And what was his reaction….”

“He said I need to stop worrying about you… that you are devoted to me and would never leave me…that the blog is a great love story about the two of us.”

“It’s all true, Mistress.”  And I was glad that our WC had my back on this.

Because Mistress had not broken out the power tool in her conversation with M,  I felt she needed some therapeutic attention.

After she completed her evening ablutions, I offered to worship.

“That would be very nice, Slave….”

She settled back on our bed, in a black nightie, sans panties. Spreading her thighs, her well groomed folds were on wanton display for me.

Yum…

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.”

Home for the Holidays

After about 1343 miles (who’s counting?) and 22.6 hours (Mapquest got it right) of cruising the highways and byways of our vast heartland, the UCTMW mobile unit pulled into our snow covered drive out here in the Land of Enchantment last night around 8:30 pm Mountain time.

As I mentioned on a quickie post made somewhere west of Garden City, Kan., yesterday, home of the infamous “In Cold Blood” trial, Slave began the day somewhat frustrated.

Our quarters were "close" at the Comfort Inn near the home of Harry Truman. The teens were in a queen size bed right next to ours.

Mistress was sympathetic when we scurried into the bathroom. She used some handy container of moisturizer to lube up my hard and desperate cock, then bent over the counter, allowing me access from behind. And she was certainly wet and ready for me after I had gotten her off in bed with my well trained digits.

But the angle was off, the position was uncomfortable, and the harsh bathroom lights were glaring and antiseptic.  Slave only became more frustrated.  And although Mistress seemed willing to pursue other options, the thought of the teens stirring in the other room dampened the moment.

So there was a nice warm shower together instead.

And Slave was left wanting, needing, frustrated.

As a Slave should be, I suppose.

Then it was back on the highway, headed West.

Although there were a few times along the way when we questioned our judgment to bite off this long road trip, our doubts melted away when we arrived safely, no more exhausted than after one of those long days negotiating America’s deteriorating and stressful air travel “industry”.

Of course there were a few things that helped along the way:

·      The power converter that allowed the surly teens to keep their laptops powered up through Missouri and Kansas and Colorado, allowing them to watch al those videos rather than whine to us about the indignity of a road trip.

·      My newly acquired Verizon MiFi, a portable wifi hub that allows you to take an internet connection on the road that works on multiple laptops at the same tine. Who would have thought that even on vast empty stretches of highway on SW Kansas you could get internet on the fly. (Of course, this allowed both of us to catch up on your blogs and to kibbitz about your adventures. Suzanne, Jay and Tammy were of particular interest to us yesterday).

·      Music. Had the little hot wire that connected my I-Pod to the sound system. We could even play tunes off of YouTube by plugging the laptop in to the sound system with that wire.  When spirits were low, we could have a sing-a-long to Adam Sandler Chanukah song.

·      Our Western Correspondent. He seemed to be in frequent touch with Mistress via email and text message much of the afternoon Friday, and through the day on Saturday. Whether it was showing us pictures of the salmon he was preparing for dinner, or smutty little comments, it kept us awake and engaged.

I could hear the little chime go off when I was driving and would raise an eyebow at Mistress.  Of course the teens were ear-budded to the max, and were seemingly oblivious to these little encoded comments between us.

“I told him about this morning….. he says it’s good for you.”

I sent M an email myself yesterday, complementing him on all the page views that his “Ass fucking” tutorial has been getting. More than 400 yesterday alone.  He suggested in a text to Mistress that we re-post it. Here it is….

How to fuck a Slave/Sub in the Ass for the 1st time.

That leaves us wondering if  more virgin asses are being given for the Holidays this year than in Years past.

Some of M’s text messages yesterday were handy tips on what was going on in the blog world.

“He says to check out “BrookePuppy”, that it reminds him of “us””.

Sure enough Mistress scrolled down Brooke’s “Phone Sex” entry and seemed to be a little more squirmy in her passenger seat than normal. And when it was my turn to ride and read, yeah…. Very hot. It does remind me of how Mistress gets when M is requesting a date, or texting wanton suggestions about how he might use her for his pleasure.  Here is a link to that:

SubBrooke - Phone Sex

And I suspect that’s exactly the types of messages Mistress was getting from M as we tooled across Kansas and into Colorado as the sun set last night.  (M also texted some details of Brooke’s back story in little phrases, as Mistress questioned him via text).

When we finally got home, after a quick stop for provisions in a backwater Safeway on the lip of the Sangre de Christo Mountains, the teens were done with us, and hauled their bags to their room to settle in and hit their soft comfy beds.

I was putting away groceries, when Mistress got a text.

“How did he know we were here already, Slave.”

“Go ahead and call if you like, Mistress…. I have some things to do….”

She tried to beg off, not wanting to offend me,  I suspect. But I knew there was a large part of her that missed M’s voice, so she accepted my offer. I even poured her a Tequilla on the rocks to enjoy as they chatted.

About 30 minutes later, Mistress came out of our room, seemingly refreshed, and ready to make sure I was too.

“Come to bed now, Slave….you remembered your device, didn’t you.”

“I did, Mistress.”

“Good, I would not want to have to punish you again for that….”

By the time I lubed it up and slid it home, my cock was as desperate as it had been in the morning, despite all the time behind the wheel.

I worked Mistress up to a lather with my fingers and mouth, and her hand on my cock had me close to the edge.

“Why don’t you ride my cock, Mistress….”

“Well you’re getting all bossy, Slave, who put you in charge?”

Check your watch, Mistress…. It’s after midnight, East Coast time.

“Ohhhh…. Switch day….”

Exactly. We started early. An the wait was well worth it by the time we were done.

From Capote Country

The surly teens are in back, watching their "Top Chef" marathon.

Mistress and Slave have been trading off driving shifts through Bloody Kansas.

We did stop long enough to take a shot of the "Welcome to Holcomb Kansas" sign, scene of the Clutter murders made famous by Truman Capote.

and Slave is still frustrated. 

This morning I woke in a Comfort Inn, somewhere in Missouri, with a raging hard on. The girls and Mistress were still snoozing. I was tempted to sneak off into the loo and take advantage of the privacy the way our Western Correspondent would under similar cirumstance.

But, reminded of our "no touch" rule, I thought better of it.



Hopefully I will get brownie points from Mistress this evening when we finally arrive at our undisclosed destination.