Back in River City

The UCTMW mobile unit rolled into River City at around 9 pm last night after two days of rolling across America. We spent a good part of our trip tracing the route of the Old Route 66 – from New Mexico all the way to St. Louis.

We were greatly aided by all the technology on board. When I was a teen, a simple trip from upstate New York to the Jersey shore with my three younger siblings was euphemistically referred to as “hell on wheels”. Boredom was the most hellacious factor, spawning bickering and clandestine fist fights and pinching , conducted below the level of the rear view mirror to avoid the wrath of Dad.

Now the teens had laptops, an AC/DC converter, videos, games, their I-phones, etc. to amuse and distract them from the grand, but, to them, uninteresting vistas we passed along the way. And the grown-ups had their  Mi-fi mobile hotspot, with a surprisingly good connection all across America. (Verizon may want to pay us for product placement at UCTMW).

We were able to establish (or discover) a few things:

·      In Oklahoma, “Do not Drive into Smoke”. Apparently it’s OK elsewhere.

·      Feral Pigs do not make good neighbors, or pets.

·      Cuervo Gold is cheaper in Missouri than any other state we passed through.

·      We actually have a reader in Oklahoma, who, with the assitance of our snarky teens,  has found new meaning in the local convenience chain “Kum and Go.” And yes, you can buy their T-shirts on-line.

·      The largest cross in this continent is along the road side somewhere in Texas West of Amarillo. And truth be told, it’s not that impressive.

·      On the other hand, the world’s largest rocking chair is located off I-44 in Missouri.

·      There is also a vacuum cleanrer museum (and outlet) near Cuba, Mo.

·      Unless a motel is a familiar “brand name”, our teens assume it is “sketchy”, and populated by extras from a “Scary Movie” sequel.

And while there was no switch day in that Holiday Inn across the street from the Will Rogers Memorial Rodeo arena in East Oklahoma on Sunday morning, Slave and Mistress were able to access each other freely as the sun rose over the Wal-Mart parking lot next door. The teens had been relegated to their own room.

It may be the one and only time we have sex on a Sunday morning in Oklahoma, so for that sake alone it was memorable.

And I suppose I have left unreported the New Year’s Eve (and New Year’s Day) encounters back on our cozy bed at our undisclosed mountain location. Let’s just say that I am glad we did not venture up the mountain again for fireworks and a party in the minus 15 degree temperatures, but decided to generate our own tasteful celebration between the sheets. 

The teens were bought off with a bottle of Prosecco to enjoy the occasion. And we suspect they made the most of it, particularly Surly Teen #1 and her boyfriend.

Yesterday evening, as the sun set, we were crossing Indiana and a slice of Kentucky, finally within striking distance. I was at the wheel. Mistress was multitasking next to me.

Her laptop was open and she was messaging over facebook with Aisha, reporting highlights to me in furtive asides. It seemed to be relationship chatter.

At the same time she was trading smuttier text massages with our Western Correspondent, who had been checking in on our progress. She had that flirty smile on when she received her messages from him, and dashed off her replies.

Afterwards, as we settled into our bed and went through accumulated replies, I asked her what the two of them had been chatting about.

“ He was cooking dinner, Slave…. And was talking about vegetables.”

She giggled.

“Is that what got you all animated, Mistress?”

“Well…. he said he was going to make me wear my butterfly vibrator (the one gifted to her for Christmas) to the grocery store, and select  assortment of things – cucumbers, you know, for further play….”

“I’m glad you had your own on board distraction, Mistress….”

“It was of comfort, Slave….”

Well, now it’s time to wake her and see if she has adjusted enough to the time shift to enjoy some indulgence before we head back to work after our two weeks away.

Welcome to 2011, all.

Oh Kum, all Ye Faithful. And Fill 'Er Up.

Vistna, Okla. The mobile UCTMW unit was packed, loaded and on the road yesterday at about 9:15 am Mountain time. the teems were packed into the backseat, with the boyfriend adding a little testosterone to the mix. The computers were powered up, and our mobile wifi hub was humming.

We proceeded via the southern route, through parts of New Mexico, across the "Top of Texas" (scenic Amarillo may have more fast food franchises than any place west of Indianapolis) and then clear across Oklahoma, which was all a hush as the Sooners stomped the pitiful pretenders from Connecticut in the Fiesta Bowl.

Sometime around midnight, we staggered into a small town just shy of the Missouri Border, running on fumes. The first gas station we discovered drew knowing snickers from our oh so urbane teens: "Kum and Go", which gave us all a shot of adrenaline as they posed for photos in the cold and dark in front of the sign.

Back in the car, they googled this regional chain, only to discover that it has become a bit of a cult classic, after one of the stars of that cinema classic, "Jack Ass II", was filmed in it's branded shirt.

Now the girls want to look for another one so they can get their own T-Shirts.

And all Slave wants to do is get back to my own bed, with the lovely Mistress at my side.

Happy New Year from Mick and Molly

As I type, I am sitting topless and in some racy black panties (that Mick gave me a few year's back) with a Tequila on the rocks in hand (here's to you my WC) in our mountain hide-a-way. It is -4 outside and we have just returned from taking three teens to a vapid (yet enjoyable) movie. We are preparing to bed down for the night -- and yes, after a pre-midnight sex time. We do spend lots of time in bed and (tho I know many of you don't believe it) much of it is actually sleeping.

Thanks to all of you for being in our lives. Like many of you, we turned to this blog world at a time when our path was a bit rocky. As far as I am concerned, it has been better therapy and counseling than we could have gotten in the vanilla world. While we have followed your own stories with vigor, you have also helped us with our own.

Mick and I do have lots of sex. Certainly often (yes, really at least twice most days), but our acts don't have the duration or athleticism of WC's with his wife. Nilla and WC like to say "more than any couple in America." My retort is certainly more than most of our vanilla friends. Once, I let our frequency slip with a friend and horrified does not begin to describe her expression.

Mick likely won't post in the morning as we get to drive back across at least five states and return to our working lives...wish you all great intimacy, sex, love and anything else that you are after in 2011.

Love,
Molly

Slave gets a Middle of the Night Cropping

Winter arrived with a vengeance on our remote UCTMW outpost in the last 24 hours. A fresh blanket of snow covers our yard, and our “neighbors”, a motley collection of plump heifers had their own snow blanket coating yesterday morning as they tore away at the bales of hay left for them in the field they call home.

On the ski mountain, snow was blowing, wind was whipping. and the Texans were taking shelter in the bars. which no doubt were  doing a brisk business in Irish coffee and spiked apple cider.

Molly and Mick took their obligatory runs in the thick snow. It was a powder day, and not to be missed. But by around 1 pm, our legs were shot, our gloves were soaked through. and we proclaimed “no mas”, skedaddling back to the warmth of our cabin.

But one extra  reason for our early exit was that we were bone tired from our prior night’s “activity”.

Things had started blandly enough. Mistress met an old friend from these parts for a drink (or two) at a local cantina, with plans to hook up with me and the teens for dinner at a nearby joint, where a local musician we have come to know would be playing.

But it’s Christmas week here, and the joint was packed, with a long line of hungry skiers and locals waiting for  tables. When Mistress arrived, Slave was in a bit of a huff, with teens demanding their culinary due in quick order, but me still hoping we could enjoy the  music.

The problem was solved with a bit of parental malpractice: the keys and a credit card were surrendered to the teens, who were told to head to a local pizza place for their long overdue repast. Of course, I knew there would be a line to eat there too, but at least I would not have to look at their glowering faces as they waited.

Soon Mistress and Slave had glommed a spot at a table with some friends, and we ate, drank, and were merry with an assortment of older and newer compadres through the evening.

When we arrived home, both of us were a little tipsy, and since Mistress had gotten a head start, it may have been that she was a little farther gone than her devoted Slave.

In any event, Mistress, lying across our bed as I undressed, mentioned that she thought her Slave had been too familiar with a woman ( or was it 2?) that had joined us at our table during the course of the evening. She was very displeased and insecure.

And Slave reacted poorly. Rather than acknowledge that Mistress is always correct on such matters, I defended myself. I really thought I had behaved in an exemplary and wholly fashion.

Words were exchanged that I regretted. And we went to a fitful sleep in a bit of a huff. Not something that we usually do here in the Collins household.

It was around 2:30 am or so when Mistress woke me.

“Slave…. I can’t sleep and it’s your fault.  I don’t like that sort of talk…. You need to be punished.”

I was groggy, half awake. But knew that the proper response was acceptance and apology.  I should have held my tongue last night, knowing that Mistress was a bit under the influence, and would likely wake in the morning with a different perspective.

I tried to express my regret, as I woke, a bit befuddled, at Mistress’s surprise urgings.

But Mistress would have none of it.

“Roll over on your stomach, Slave.”

I did. What else could I do?  And I could feel her cool hand on my ass. But it was not a loving hand. It was simply calibrating space and distance in the dark of our room.

A sort of manual range finder.

Then my ass was lit upon with the firm, hard blow of the riding crop…. How the hell did she find that damn thing in the dark?

“You know you deserve this, don’t you, Slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

And I did, I had spoken harshly and injudiciously to the woman that I love with all my heart.

And I knew, despite the temporary pain, that it was good that Mistress had this outlet to express her hurt and insecurity, rather than brooding over it through the night, or into the next day.

But man, as she continued to crop me, it hurt like hell.  I worried that all this thwacking might wake the slumbering teens.

I squirmed and wiggled, and chewed on my pillow to stifle my cries of pain. But she kept whacking me until she had spent her angst on my bottom.

Then she had me roll over, stroking me gently now with her hands.

“You did deserve that, Slave….”

“I know, Mistress. …  can I worship you now?”

“Yes, you may….”

She lay back on the bed, arms stretched overhead, and spread those delightful thighs.

Mistress’s cleanly shaven folds were a delight to lavish with attention, even as my ass smoldered in the cool air of our room. And it did not take long for Mistress to shudder with release.

But she was not satisfied.

“You need to fuck me now, Slave.”

She reached for my cock which was flaccid, still drowsy I suppose at this very late / early hour.

“Get it hard for me….now, Slave”

She was not in the mood for importuning, but needed my hard cock, probably to prove to herself my continued loyalty and devotion to her.

So I resorted to my hand, and sidling up against her warm, lush body  to provide her the proof she needed. And, once her standards had been met, what followed was a long crazed fucking that hopefully resolved those latent insecurities about my devotion to her.

When I was finally granted permission to come, we both collapsed into a sodden, exhausted sleep.

After our return early yesterday afternoon from battling the fresh powder, Mistress and I collapsed in bed for a 40 minute nap. Later, as we showered before dinner, Mistress took a look at my bottom.

“Oh my, Slave….. there’s still a nice welt there”.

Her hand gently caressed it, tracing it with her fingers.

“Are you glad you left your mark, Mistress?”

“I’m very glad. The Western Correspondent tells me I need to be tougher on you to avoid the sort of disagreement we had last night.”

“He may be right, Mistress…. “