Donna and Bill Take A New Toy for a Spin

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Birthday Greetings to Our Western Correspondent

Tomorrow is the birthday of our first staff member here at UCTMW.

It’s been about a year since M first got into phone contact with Mistress – he’d been commenting and emailing since December of 2009. And while we give him lots of shit from time to time, I know Mistress has enjoyed having him as part of the “team” that keeps her amused and satisfied.

Just yesterday, not long after I provided my own humble efforts to fulfill her needs – you know, the oral pleasuring, followed by some therapy with Mick’s work-a-day cock – M texted Mistress to let her know it was time for one of her personal training sessions with him directing the action via phone.

It was only around 8 am here in our Hideaway. I offered to make myself scarce by heading down to our little neighborhood organic bakery and ice cream purveyor.

“Could you get out the power tool and plug it in for me, Slave before you go.”

“Of course, Mistress.”

I pulled out the Hitachi, untangled the extension cord (we wouldn’t want the littler sucker to come unplugged at the very wrong moment), and then kissed Mistress goodbye. I even turned the radio on in our lining room to make sure the teens could not hear any sounds that might be a little too unsettling.

“Enjoy, Mistress…. And give my regards to M.”

“I will Slave….”

Her text chime went off.  She slid seductively into bed, still in a skimpy nightie I had purchased her some time ago, ready for her therapeutic “session” to begin.

When I returned home the door was still shut, so I settled at the dining room table, tending to some work emails. Soon she emerged, wrapped in a terry robe, looking quite flushed and certainly refreshed.

She leaned over, gave me a little kiss.

“How many, Mistress….”

“Oh… at least two Slave….”

(If you're keeping score, that was at least 4 before 9 am.)

“And what little tale did he provoke you with this morning, Mistress?”

“Ohh …. It involved him fucking me in the ass while I was in some sort of chastity device….”

“I’ll bet that was pretty hot Mistress…. Making you all frustrated….”

“It was Slave…..very…..”

Clearly M was adding value on our trip, even if we’ve not seen much from him in the column inches category of late.  Maybe this “personal trainer” role is more up his alley.

So in our plans to recognize his contribution to our burgeoning media “empire” I wanted to do a little tribute to M.  Maybe delve into his past and give him a little surprise.

We only have a few details from M’s colorful history.

We know he was a competitive ski racer in his teens and early 20’s. 

We also know that he spent some time as a highly desired ski instructor in Summit County, Colorado, who did whatever it took to please his “students” – particularly those of the female persuasion.  Sometimes that even meant long nights of toil spent off “piste”. The story goes that he qould sometimes forget which hotel room was his next scheduled destination.

Using all the tools at the disposal of a vast media empire, I  was able to strike some gold (or at least tarnished bronze). With a few well placed gratuities, I was able to plunder from the “morgue” of the Vail Eagle, circa 1978,  the following photo of M from his salad days, back when he taught skiing by day, and developed a variety of uses for his special occasion tool by night.

AS you can see, M had a certain magnetic charisma even then. I’m not sure whether his lovely companions were fellow ski instructors admiring his special equipment, or sorority girls on spring break who were working on their tans. M could you fill in the blanks for us?

And do have a happy birthday tomorrow.

(BTW, that really is a picture of the WC.... who could make that up?)

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To the Peak and Back

Well, of course there was some gratifying morning sex here at our little Mountain Hideaway on Wednesday. I recall Mistress grappling for my cock after I had feasted on her, the laptop set aside now, and her compliment.

“Oh goody. The morning cock.”

You may know the type, hard and eager without much encouragement. Mistress shouldn’t have to work to hard for that effect should she?

But the real story today is a little travelogue about Mistress and our 2nd sullen teen – almost 18 now – who had an excellent adventure worth documenting here.

At our Ski Mountain, the most dramatic run is not “lift served”. No, you need to hike there, toting skis, or board. It’s a long and demanding climb. The locals with their well acclimated lungs and hard bodies can do it in 45 minutes or so. But for flatlanders like us – schedule at least 90 minutes if you are lucky.

The hike stretches across a long narrow ridgeline with amazing views across this wild and beautiful state and north to another. (the picture at the top gives you a good sense of the trail, which starts on the left and extends to the very top, maybe 1.5 miles).

And as the final destination seems to get tantalizingly closer, the trail gets steeper, narrower and dicier. Sometimes you can be plowing forward through knee deep snow, grateful for the footprints of those that preceded you. Other times, like yesterday, the snow is thin and your stiff and heavy ski boots are slipping and sliding on loose rock and ice.

But what awaits is a long and challening run over barely tracked snow down a dramatic slope until you finally arrive to the more routine runs where the mere mortal skiers have been looking up at you in wonder.

Now Molly and Mick have done this hike in years past. But it’s been a few years for me. Quite frankly, in my 60 year old decrepitude, it’s a tough physical challenge that I can happily forego – been there, done that – even though I do miss that sense of accomplishment when the run is over, and the views along the way.

So when our teen said this week “I want to go to the peak”, I was a little reluctant. Quite frankly, I didn’t think she knew what awaited or had the mettle to stick it through. And believe me, there comes a point on that hike when your body says “no mas”, but, quite literally, you can’t turn back.

I was not into seeing her hit that point and having to deal with the consequences.

But then Mistress stepped in.

“I’ll go with you…..”

I raised an eyebrow. Quietly lobbied against the risk. But they were undeterred.

So off they went.



Gutsy and determined.

And I got to watch them take their turns down that wide, steep slope, slowly but surely, about two hours after they headed up that narrow trail with a bunch of other hardcore skiers following behind.

The teen made it first, on her snow board, collapsing onto her back on the snow next to me.

“I’m really not that tired. It was just hard on my lungs sometimes….”

Uhh, yeah. At 12,500 feet, climbing up. It’s a killer.


Mistress made it down a few minutes later, a broad smile on that beautiful face.

“My legs are like rubber, Slave.”

No doubt.

So here is to Mistress and our sullen but adventurous teen. I am proud of both of them.

Slave Gets A Wake Up Call

With a little less time on the slopes this week (due to our later start time), Molly and Mick have made sure there is a little more time for R and R.

Yesterday morning, I cleverly manipulated Mistress to have me deploy my aneros, after she read the daily blog about such activities going “mainstream”.

I had been slurping away at her succulent folds as she read, both the blog and the related Salon article, pausing for occasional comments.

“Did you like the way that guy offered to bend over for the reporter, to aid in her ”research””.

“Pretty funny, Slave… now why don’t you go put in your device….”

“Of course, Mistress….”

I lubed up the little sucker and drove it home, then rejoined Mistress in bed.  My cock was already feeling the effect.

After making sure Mistress had her “starter” cum, courtesy of my lips and tongue, I was more than ready to take my own pleasure. But before granting me permission, Mistress made sure that I was suitably firm, groping down below with her fingers.

“Nice, Slave….. and , yes, you may now fuck me.”

Maybe it was a good night’s sleep, combined with the little probe, but I seemed particularly anxious to get “there” …. Maybe a little too anxious.  Soon I found myself perilously close to the edge, though I had not delivered Mistress the additional orgasm or two that she has come to expect, or asked for permission…

Yow….. “code red”….I pulled back, just in time…..

“What was that about, Slave…..”

She’s not using to my cock going MIA in the midst of the action.

“Sorry…. Got a little too … close ….Mistress……”

Had I reverted to adolescence or something?  We both laughed.  And the laughter helped bring me back away from the edge of the cliff, allowing me to resume normal programming.

I made sure Mistress was suitably pleasured then, before asking for permission. And when permission was granted…. Well let’s just say that the deferred expectations made the reward all the more compelling.  I collapsed in a sweaty heap next to her.

We had a lovely day on the mountain with the teens. A cloudless sky required plenty of sunscreen. And by the time we came back, my legs were dead and my body needed a little rest. 

After handling some pesky work matters, we found ourselves in bed, snuggled up and dozing off before it was time to fix dinner.

But after about 40 minutes or so of shut-eye, I was awakened by a Mistress who knew what she wanted.

She rolled onto me, with a little sigh of desire.

“I want my cock now Slave….”

Who was I to say “no”, when duty calls.

Still a bit groggy, I just laid back as Mistress slowly and deliberately ground her needy cunt against me, until I began to respond, firming up suitably.  Getting more and more, “in the mood”.

“I hope you don’t mind me just rubbing against you like this Slave….”

“Of course not…. But I suspect my cock would feel ever so cozy inside you right now, Mistress.”

She kept grinding.

I kept getting harder.

“All in good time, Slave….”

Fortunately, Mistress must have felt the need for something more “filling”.

She slid, adjusted, handled me, and was soon taking my cock for a long, hard ride.

Ahhh.

She took   her time, letting herself build up to one of those moaning, groaning comes that leaves her face all mottled, chest heaving, eyes squeezed shut, off in her own world of lust.

Rolling off me, she had one more demand.

“Fuck me now, Slave….”