Dinner and a Dance

Slave woke a little later than normal here. Finally adjusting to the time shift, I suppose, just as we get ready to head back to River City tomorrow.

Bummer.

So I may skip over the sex part, which involved some robust full frontal cowgirl yesterday morning, if only to spare Suzanne, who has been without Jay’s trophy cock and the skilled tongue of her Tammy all these tortured days.

Last evening we had dinner at a lovely local restaurant with two friends we met here several years ago. Like us, they are visitors, not true locals, but they “get” the ambiance here in the same way we do.

They both have worked in higher education in Oklahoma. John just retired and Jane, a little younger, is hanging in there for a few more years. Doing the math, both are about 5 years older than Molly and Mick, respectively.

As it turned out, John and I came dressed a little too closely matched,  both of us in jeans, boots, plaid western shirts and white cowboy hats. (Yes, Mick does wear an occasional cowboy hat out here).

This led to some teasing from our “girls”. Molly suggested we looked like matching Fisher-Price toys. Later, a musician we all know asked if we were “twins”.

Cute. But I suppose we deserved it. Two aging and overeducated dudes, dressed up like cowboys. All hat and no cattle, I suppose. But there is nothing wrong with a rich fantasy life, is there?

So there we were, sharing dinner on the patio of this amazing Spanish Nouveau restaurant, a spectacular view of the local Pueblo’s sacred mountain stretched out before us to the north , bathed in the pink alpenglow of the setting sun.

Maybe the view distracted me, but at some point Mistress looked at me with a bemused look.

“Ummm, Mick…. Did you hear what Jane just said?”

I gave her my best quizzical “huh?” look….

Fortunately, Jane didn’t mind repeating herself to this rude dinner companion.

“Remember. Mick,  I was talking about getting a facial peel….”

“Uhhh, oh yeah….” (I sort of remembered, maybe this explains why I zoned out…. I mean…. Facials?)

“Well I said that I had trouble getting the peel goop all off, and when we were leaving I looked in the mirror and it seemed like I had cum in my hair,  again.”

Ahhhhh.  So that’s what I missed.

From there the dinner conversation went downhill.

Apparently Jane considers herself quite a blow job expert. And that particular phrase was bouncing around the table so often I was starting to monitor folks at the tables surrounding us to see if they were offended by our rather frank chat.

The best story was about Jane on her knees in the driveway of their home after an evening out. Suddenly her cell phone rang.  It was her daughter, from inside the house, saying “Mom, I can see what you two are doing out there….”

John was happy to confirm that Jane’s particular skill was a key element of his decision to pop the question a few years back. (This is the second marriage for both of them).

Somehow the conversations shifted from BJ’s to what Jane described as her “laminated card”: A set list of celebrities that she had a free pass in advance to do it with if the opportunity arose.

Both Molly and Jane agreed that David Duchovney was on both of their lists. Then they rolled through a variety of other candidates.

But I made sure to point out that Mistress has a free pass with anyone she chooses.

Just Following Orders

Our schedule  was a little tight here Thursday morning.

Mistress had a “date” scheduled with our WC, and Slave had to make sure he woke her up around 7 am, to assure that I got my own early morning “taste”. With our own "wake up" sex completed, both of us were juggling some work on our lap tops, when Molly got a little 10 minute warning text from the WC with some unique instructions.

“He says to get your Slave to set the Hitachi up for you out on the patio….I’m supposed to be naked out there for him at 8, Slave.….”

“Will do, Mistress.”

Of course, Mistress has been in various states of undress out there for the last few days. And but for some livestock and prairie dogs, there is not much chance that she can be observed from the road or our neighbors’ distant yards.

Not much chance , but maybe a little. Just enough to get Mistress a little on edge about these “orders” from a few hundred miles to our north.

I got out her “power tool” and plugged in the outdoors’ extension cord, all ready for her.

Then there was another order.

“Now He says he wants me out there on all fours, and he wants you to take a doubled belt and give me 30 strokes with it, Slave….”

Oh, my.

“The WC get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

Mistress just gave a slight nervous giggle, all naked, brushing her teeth in our bedroom.

“He sure is bossy for so early in the morning….”

But she did not seem inclined to argue.

I grabbed a belt, a wide Western style belt with some nice carved designs on it. I wondered if I could make little floral imprints on Mistress’s lovely ass.

And I can report to you WC that Mistress was very co-operative. She knelt oh so willingly on the chaise, ass in the air, and only whined a bit as she counted out the strokes for me. I went easy at first, but since she did not seem to uncomfortable, I increased the strength of my strokes as we approached 30, making her squirm a bit and mutter about how much it hurt.

While I suspect you could have done a better job of it, without fear of any reprisal later on, I must say she took her “punishment” like a trooper.

When I was done, her bottom had a nice rosy glow, which I captured with my camera for all of you:

“Now, could you get the phone for me please Slave….”

I did, and left Mistress to her conversation with the WC. Although at some point she did scramble inside, muttering about the cordless phone’s battery dying and retrieving an alternative handset. It seemed she was a tad frustrated at the time.”

About 30 minutes later she came back inside, announcing she was done. I had been loading our bikes on the car for an excursion at a nearby national park.

On the trail I asked about her little rendezvous.

“So how many, Mistress….?”

“Oh, I’d say three Slave.”

“And did he get off too?”

“He did, Slave….”

Good to know the WC is not getting sexually constipated back at the office.

“And what nasty things did WC have you thinking about as he put you through your paces?”

“Oh… he was coming down to collect me and drag me off to some nudist place in Colorado… where there was various public displays by and of me….I think at some point you had to watch too….”

“Sounds like fun, Mistress….”

“It was, Slave….”

Later in the day, Suzanne, over at All Mine had her own post, pining for her two male companions. She’s still on an overseas work trip. She commented that here at UCTMW we seem to be overindulging. And I suppose she is right. Maybe catching up for lost time over the last few weeks at work and dealing with sullen teens off from school.

Suzanne, we know you will catch up once you, Jay, Tammy and Carol get up to your lake house next week. And now that Carol has cultivated a taste for exploiting her privileges with Tammy, we are all wondering how that will sort itself out once the Mistress of the house is back at the controls.

Rest assured, dear readers, that after the bike ride and some errands, Slave got another chance to please Mistress here in our bed, before some dinner guests arrived.

We wouldn’t want to fail to meet Suzanne’s high expectations.

Day at the Beach

Yesterday, Mick and Molly spent a good bit of the day down at our local “beach”.

After our morning sexual engagements, and a long and demanding bike ride, we packed up some beverages, books and beach towels and climbed into our rental jeep.

You find our local beach by driving down a long dirt road, then hiking about 2/3’s of a mile into the deep gorge of the Rio Grande River as it winds it’s way from Colorado to the Gulf of Mexico.

The rocky, winding path is an old road, long since abandoned, created by some 19^th Century entrepreneur who constructed a “toll bridge” here at the bottom of the gorge to accommodate horse men and stage coaches traveling for business and maybe a little pleasure toward Arizona or the rail route that connected Colorado with Albuquerque.

And he picked this particular transit point because of some ancient hot springs on the banks of the river here. The springs were discovered and exploited by ancient Indian tribes long  before the Spanish Conquistadors came to these parts in search of gold, slave labor  and potential Catholics.

More recently, you may have seen the springs in Easy Rider, the late 1960’s movie, with Dennis Hopper and Peter Fonda cavorting in the nude with some local hippie chicks.  No way they got their choppers down that trail though.

In the past, it’s been a scene of some naked sunbathing and a little sexual activity in the warm natural pools for Molly and Mick. But this time we were a bit stifled by some other touristas, and a few local aging hippie types, plastered with tatoos, and accompanied by a pack of friendly but loud dogs.

We did enjoy some quiet time away from cell phones and computers to read our books and soak up the high desert sun.

Later, after dealing with the email traffic that had accumulated back at the ranch, we finally got some quiet time before heading out to our evening engagement with a group of local friends.

After her shower, Mistress did get a chance to chat with our WC, who is back at work, not far to the north.  She was out on the patio, letting her hair dry in the sun, when she asked me to retrieve the phone to accommodate their call.

You will be happy to know that I offered to worship as she talked, but she suggested it would be “not that kind of talk”.

On the other hand, She did let me worship her once she had signed off with M and came inside. It gave us both a little time to relax before our rendezvous with friends for dinner and some music at a local restaurant.

Our friends out here are a mixed blessing. It’s great to spend time with them in small doses. But  two of the couples have a need to do social “gang bangs”, where either we have to have 8 or more people together, or someone has to feel dissed and left out.

Very high school.

Mistress and I, on the other hand, are happy to be by ourselves, or spend an evening with one other couple at a time. 

Handling the Truth.

We have settled into a nice little rhythm here in the mountains now.

I wake to do my blogging.

Mistress allows that she is now awake, maybe around 7 am here.

I come to share her bed, worship as she reads the blog, then, if she is satisfied (and I make sure she is), I am allowed to take my pleasure from her.

After that a long bike ride, up and down some challenging hills here at 7000 ft.

Some breakfast.

A little telecommuting work, and maybe some chores around the house. Yesterday it was painting an old piece of furniture acquired at a 2nd hand shop for use on our patio.

Mistress of course was out in the sun, naked, making sure I applied sunscreen to that lovely bottom before it got too rosy.

Around 3 pm or so the clouds began to gather for what could have been but never became a pop up thunderstorm. The gods of rain like to tease a lot out here.

Mistress suggested that we move into our chambers.

And she had a surprise.

“You’re going to get fucked in the ass this afternoon Slave…”

“But it’s not Saturday, Mistress…”

“Does it need to be Saturday?”

I suppose it’s her call, isn’t it?

So after a little nap, Mistress made sure I assembled her “supplies”, which I had been told to pack. Soon she was all dressed up in her harness, ready for action.

This got us wondering about Tammy and Carol over at All Mine. There was a bit of a cliffhanger there this weekend. Carol was “babysitting” , and had Tammy acquire a strap-on harness for her use over the holiday weekend. But…. Come on Tammy…. Where’s the update?

In any event, back to our bedroom….

We cuddled and teased a bit before Mistress instructed me to assume the proper position, face down, a pillow under my hips. And then it was Mistress taking me the way she likes. (I’m not nearly flexible enough for that diaper position).

Soon she was having one and then another nice expressive cum as she thrust into me, before she collapsed onto my back, rather satisfied with herself.

“I hope that reminds you who is in charge, Slave…”

I mumbled something expressing consent, from within my little submissive cloud.

“Now go out in your device and get back here and fuck me, Slave….”

I rallied, and hopped to, not wanting to miss that opportunity.

Our evening avoided the collection of friends we had seen Monday, just dinner at Mistress’s favorite Pizza joint: spelt crust with the world’s greatest view.

Over dinner, we talked about an interesting email exchange Mistress had with a reporter from a national publication. The writer, who Mistress checked out to be reputable on her I-phone, was looking to talk to women who would share on the subject of balancing work, kids and a healthy sex life.

She was willing to work with just Molly’s first name and city.

Mistress was intrigued. It’s a subject she thinks is important to talk about. But how much to share?

Should she use her “secret identity” name, or ask the reporter to refer to her as Molly…

And should she just give her the first layer of the truth around the Collins household, or delve into what our readers here know…. The contract, the flirtations with a cuckold lifestyle, bondage.

We played out the interview over pizza and later at a local music venue, listening to some local musicians do their unique country / folk thing.

“So what do you and your husband do to keep things fresh?”

“There’s the office worship…. Then the occasional ass fucking he needs to keep him in line…, you can read all about it in our sex blog.”

My guess is if Mistress went there, the reporter would roll her eyes, label us crazies, and file the interview somewhere in a vault. Then she would go with the more conventional lady describing an occasional “date night” with hubby, where they might “make out” in a parked car and do other “naughty” things.

We left it with Molly giving the reporter a “shallow” view of what it takes to keep things hot at home, and seeing how the reporter handles it.

Somehow, as Jack Nicholson put it in that movie, I doubt this reporter “can handle the truth.”

And I don’t think that Molly and Mick want to risk a whole lot of questions being asked in River City about this lady with the first name who does all sorts of crazy, sexy things with her “Slave” husband.

But we will certainly keep you all up dated.

Sun’s up now here in the Sangres.

Need to brew some coffee and make sure Mistress is properly attended .