Cruising for a Bruising?

Mistress and Slave cashed in on that fresh snow yesterday, spending several hours on the slopes in a fresh 15 inches of powder. You could tell from the crowd that showed up on such short notice that quite a few sick and personal days were being taken in these parts, and more than a few teenagers conned their parents into calling in to school with some lame excuse for their absence.

Of course, the skiing did not cut into the time dedicated to wake up and apres ski sex here in our mountain hideaway. 

But it was after the post-coital buzz faded, and the sun was beginning to pop out just in time for a dramatic sunset (you can see it lighting up the mountain in the picture above), that Mistress talked to J by phone, and reported on my "misbehavior".

She insists I must be subliminally seeking out a cropping on my bony ass, based on some comments I made at a dinner party with friends Monday evening. But I will let you, dear readers, be the Judges.

We were discussing the local ski patrol stalwart who  spends much of his year climbing and hiking. He holds the American record for summits of  Everest, and recently treked to the South Pole. As reported here a few weeks ago, Mistress has a damp spot for him, and I think you know where.

So when his name came up, it seemed only fair to mention that Mistress "has a free pass" for him if the opportunity ever presented itself. In fact, I added "Molly has a free pass with anyone who meets her fancy...."

This earned a few catcalls from our dinner group, though I assumed they were thinking old Mick was just blowing smoke.

After that, Mistress mentioned that she had sent the famous Climber a message on facebook, saying she was happy to meet him back in January in the ski patrol hut. (He sold her a T-shirt, as you may recall.)

"And he actually responded to me!!!"

This is where it could be argued that Slave crossed the line.

"I think she headed straight to our bedroom to masturbate over that little response."

Now this was said as an aside. I am pretty sure no one else but Mistress was paying attention to my mutterings.  But I got that "look" from her, that promised there was a punishment in my future.

I tried to make up for it later, mentioning  that I was always happy to kneel before my beautiful wife in a conversation we were having with another couple. Again, I doubt they understood that I was quite serious.

So what do you think, does Slave deserve to be punished over such innocent cheekiness?

Our Senior Correspondent Gets Cheeky

Weather can change quickly here this time of year. Yesterday Mistress and Slave, after their morning rituals (sexual and otherwise) left the house in sunshine, and ended up skiing in a brisk wind and blowing snow. Since we can be fair weather skiers, we retreated down into the valley, and took a bracing bike ride into a 30 mph wind. Now that was hard work!

By the time we woke from a nap, and a little late afternoon nooky, the snow was falling, and the chair where Mistress had spent Sunday afternoon was under several inches of fluffy white stuff.  So today we get to head back up the mountain where they say the new snow is up to 15 inches, and still falling.  

So it's nice to have the following contribution from Donna to share with you, as Mistress and Slave settle into their spring holiday here in the Mountains.


 

It's A Cheeky Blog Today

Cheeky One

When Bill called me back to the bedroom yesterday evening, I was so excited. I had visions of sucking Bill's penis with my arms cuffed behind my back, of Bill filling every orifice with toys and tongue, of making use of the spreader...right up until the point he sat down on the edge of the bed and motioned for me to get over his lap.

Yep, there was a whole lot of spanking going on, barehanded and strong. We moved from the number owed for using the word "sorry",  to many more for a cheeky attitude that has become more prominent in Bill's opinion, which he reminded me (with a few more swats) is the only opinion that matters on this subject. Then there were some swats for complaining about keeping all the paperwork straight and a few more for General Principle. And by the way, if I ever meet this General Principle dude, we are going to have some words!

Finally, my butt on fire, he told me to follow him to the living room, that he had come across a position he wanted to try in there for spanking and sex , I was hoping for the sex without anymore spanking. The position is rather odd to describe, but basically he turned the rectangular hassock so that the shorter side was between his knees as he sat on the couch. Then he had me kneel on the hassock, and back up toward him. He positioned my knees on the outside of his hips, then had me lower my head onto the hassock. So it was head down, butt up and I got another good spanking right on top of the earlier one. Sore cheeks! Really sore cheeks! But when he finished the spanking and pulled me straight back against his erect penis, I knew he had a position we would return to again soon, hopefully with more focus on sex and less on spanking my red cheeks next time.

Cheeky Two

I had some trouble sleeping and watched an infomercial in the middle of the night for some sort of procedure that makes one's face appear 15 or more years younger. The before and after pictures were quite remarkable, although the fact that none of the women wore makeup or had their hair styled in the before pictures, but were done up to the nines in the after photos did make me wonder a tad. The testimonials were all similar, very similar, with every woman using phrases you don't hear often in general conversation, phrases like, "Now my outside matches my inside."  If you have ever spent any time with Grey's Anatomy, you probably don't want your outside to match your inside. That's why skin is there: to protect and hide the innards. Further explanation by a plastic surgeon, later to be reiterated by a psychologist, was that people are living longer and feeling younger, but their faces don't match their energy levels. Oh, that makes sense. No, wait, I don't think it does.

As I sat there pondering those deeper questions of life, you know the kind, like how could it possibly be that with 20+ channels on our television, this was the cream of the viewing crop, I began to think about what changes I would make to my body if I could. In reflecting on the short-term past, I might have chosen to change that decision to have a cup of strong coffee after dinner, but in trying to contemplate the much bigger picture, my hips came to mind.

Bill loves my hips and my butt, too, and I am very appreciative of that, but recently I have come to understand that my below the waist size is different than I thought. And that hurt me, it really did, right up to the point that it hurt someone else more than it hurt me.  Let me explain.

I was innocently rolling through a warehouse store when I spotted, way off on the horizon, a display of shorts in my favorite color. I grabbed the rims of my personal chariot and did my best impression of a wheelchair athlete in getting over to the display. Yes! The fabric was right, too! Oh, joy! What surer sign of spring? I quickly leaned into the stacks looking for my size. I picked up a pair that seemed to be about right and examined the tag, hunting for the size, and that's when I saw the letter G. I am familiar with S for small and M for medium, but G? So I put the shorts in my lap and rolled over to the clothing section employee to ask about the mysterious size designation.

I waited politely for a break in the clerk's rather lengthy conversation with another female employee, about the prior night's rendezvous with their boyfriends, before making my polite inquiry. The young woman, clearly bothered that there were customers in the store, said in very broken English, "Those will probably fit you. The G stands for grande."  What came to mind was that famous quote by Bugs Bunny, "They don't know me very well, do they?"

From the look that came over her face along with the fact that the other employee backed away and left, I can only suppose my evil grin must have been a clue that something was about to hit the fan. In a very soft, yet steely, voice I said, "That wasn't very nice, now was it? In this tough job market, I would hate for your employment to be placed at risk by this happening again with a less understanding person. So, just to be sure that won't happen, please tell me how you think you might improve the response you just gave me." And as I spoke, I rolled closer and closer, moving in on her personal space. She paled, her English immediately improved and together we worked out a much better response.

When Bill wandered up a few minutes later, I introduced them and thanked her for her assistance, assuring her I would look forward to seeing her next time. She looked at me with big eyes, I smiled, and we both started laughing. Then she gave me a genuine smile and asked if there was anything else she could help me with. lol

After we left the young woman, I rolled over and put the shorts back on the stack. Grande, my ass. Literally!

I'm staying up late tonight to get the name of that place that does the face lifts from the infomercial. I'm okay with my face, but maybe they can make the cheeks in my shorts look 15 years younger. Maybe?

Hugs,
Donna

The Mistress Has Landed

Mistress left her lover J back in our bed in River City Sunday morning, and hitched a ride from her Mother to the River City airport. She was even able to catch an earlier connection to meet me here in the Land of Enchantment, and I was happy to adjust my own plans to pick her up in Santa Fe where a shuttle van from the airport dropped her off at around 12:45 pm.

Naturally, she looked ravishing and surprisingly relaxed as she climbed out of the van, and I walked up to meet her just a few steps away from the Cathedral de San Francisco.  Bells were ringing, and the faithful were celebrating Palm Sunday. But Slave has a different sort of worship in mind.

Mistress was traveling light, and I grabbed one of the two small bags she had brought along.

"So what's your desire Mistress.... lunch here?  Lunch on the way home?"

"Slave, with all this sun, you know what I want to do.... get back to our house.... take off my clothes.... and get out on our patio...."

"Your wish is my command, Mistress."

We hopped in the rental car for the 1 1/2 drive north to our little hideaway.

Along the way Mistress made our plans for the rest of the day crystal clear.

"Now I know you're horny, Slave...."

"So true...."

"But you'll have to wait a little longer.... first sun.... some lunch on the patio....then, when the sun gets low, I will let you fuck me....."

"I understand completely, Mistress."

Why should  I mind being a sunshine cuckold too.

As we drove, Mistress stoked the fire a bit with tales of her weekend with J.

"I'm happy he took good care of your needs, Mistress."

"He did Slave.... and on Saturday evening I showed him all our toys...."

"What did he think...."

"I think he was a little blown away.... he was impressed to see the harness.... and the riding crops."

"Do you think he wants you to try them on him, Mistress...."

"I don't think that's his thing, Slave....."

Soon we were pulling up our drive under a perfectly clear, vividly blue sky.  It was a lovely 70 degrees.

AS she promised, Mistress was soon out of her travel clothes, stripped to a green thong, and paging through the NY Times on a lounge chair, greedily soaking up those harmful UV rays. After a little lunch, she shut her eyes and zoned out for a while.

I took a couple of  photos to share with J via text.

"Quick transition, huh?"

He responded with concern that she apply plenty of sun screen, and she insisted that she had.  Good thinking J!

And by around 5 pm, she finally conceded that the sun was too low for a beneficial effect.

"It's time, Slave..... why not go put in your device.... (the aneros).... I suppose you've waited long enough."

She wasn't going to hear any argument from me. I am happy to follow her orders.

Be Prepared

I am up a little early here in the Mountains. It's always hard to adjust to the time change, and it's even harder to sleep soundly without Mistress sleeping beside me.  So when I woke I began to peruse the papers on line.  I ran across this headline on Maureen Dowd's column entitled "She's fit to be tied" and was surprised to see it was actually about kinky stuff.  Who would think that MoDo had a friend who is an online dominatrix. Do you think it's Gail Collins?  More evidence that the whole BDSM scene is more mainstream than some of us tend to think.

By the time I post this blog, Mistress should be jetting her way to join me here.  I know she was not pleased that her work required her to stay behind and miss a perfect, warm sunny day here at our Mountain hideaway.  But hopefully we can catch up for lost time.  I can't wait until I pick her up this afternoon.

As a good Mistress should, she stayed in touch and managed her Slave properly from afar. Before I left on Friday afternoon, she let me know that I would be allowed to "touch" on Saturday morning. She called me at about 6:30 am Mountain time, having just left J's "love shack", and driving to that desultory office retreat that had kept her home when I headed West.

She filled me in on a few smutty details of her evening with J. There was the  usual pre-bedtime worship as he applied his oral skills.

"I think he likes that as much as you do, Slave...."

Now that would be hard.

"Did he give you a nice assortment of cums, Mistress. "

"Yes, Slave,,,, he's very dedicated to his task."

"Then there was the 4 am "booty call". "

It was hard not to let the mind wander, the two of them waking early in his bed. Maybe him already a little hard, and Mistress's hand wandering to and fro, making him all the harder....the thought was having the effect she no doubt relished.

"Have you exercised your privileges yet, Slave?"

"Not yet Mistress...."

"Well, I think you should....in fact I'm requiring it of you.... but remember to send me a text message saying 'mission accomplished'. That will at least brighten my morning a bit."


"Yes, Mistress...."

It was not a directive that was hard to follow.

Since I was up early, I finished my "business",  then pulled together my skiing equipment and headed up the mountain. Though I should have applied more sunscreen, I had a great day on the mountain, though it surely was odd not to have my Mistress there on the chair lift beside me. By around 2:30 pm my legs were shot from pushing around the slushy spring snow, and I headed back to the cabin, thinking of a nap, some NCAA basketball and a trip into town for some provisions.

Of course, I checked in with Mistress, who by now was done with her meeting, and heading home for a bike ride.

"I'm having dinner with J this evening, Slave...."

"Good, I was hoping he'd take care of you while we were a part...."

"But I'm not spending the night.....need to get out early to the airport."

I told Mistress my dinner plans... stopping by a charming old  local Bar / restaurant / music venue to enjoy the scene, and maybe watch some of the OSU / KSU basketball game.

So there I was sitting about 9 pm or so East Coast time, watching basketball, eating a chicken enchilada, and listening to a group of aging lesbians play middle eastern music with drums and fiddles, and texting with Mistress.

"We're  back to our house now, Slave.... J's spending the night here. He'll leave after my mother picks me up to take me to the airport.  "

The logistics of that were a little confusing, but I am not one to quibble. It was just good to know that Mistress would not be driving late at night, and was in good hands.

"Now he's watching the basketball game. And I'm just relaxing"

And of course I was watching that game too, about 1500 miles away. So that was another aspect of our "shared experience."

"I hope he's at least rubbing your feet."

That's one of our little TV watching rituals.

"He's rubbing my feet and my thigh, Slave."

Hmmm.... J is getting into the groove.

By now half-time was over. I'd had a couple of beers and a chicken enchilada. I had chatted up a couple from Minnesota about raising girls and the glories of our beautiful valley, and I was thinking about catching the ending of what had been up to then a boring game back at our cabin.

Then I got another text....

"We're getting into bed now, Slave....Mmmmm..... miss you."

I figured she would soon be "otherwise engaged" so I gave her a call to say good night.

She explained that  they were now in bed, with J watching the end of the game as she snuggled up next to him.  They had already showered. 

"One problem though Slave.... we hadn't really planned this, so J forgot condoms.... but I realized I had one in reserve...."

"Oh God.... the McCain condom...."

We had gone to the Democratic Convention in 2008.  They were passing these out at as little joke on Ol' Maverick and his positions on women's health issues.  Maybe it was these folks who gave this one the Molly, which she'd kept as a bit of a joke ever since.

"Hmmmm..... like McCain, that one could be a little past it's prime, Mistress, but I suppose you gotta do what you gotta do."

"J says he's going to close his eyes and pretend I'm Sarah Palin...."

"I'm not sure that would really work, Mistress..... but it might be an interesting experiment."

We said goodnight, but there was one final instruction.

"Slave.... no touching tonight.... I want you horny for me tomorrow..."

That will not be a problem.