Cheating?

It was an unusually Irish like day here in the Southwest yesterday. And maybe the timing was good. Mistress had some lengthy conference calls, and Slave had some work to do as well. But we did fit in some nice wake up sex here at 7800 ft., and squeezed in a nice vigorous bike ride in a fine high altitude mist. This morning I'm hoping for some clearer skies to see if the mountain tops acquired any snow overnight.

Last night we went to a local bar / restaurant to hear one of our local favorites perform with some friends - doing his piano man routine with a little John Lennon tossed into the mix. No matter the weather or season, this lovely old adobe building always seems packed on Wednesday night when our friend Jimmy is playing. And if you've been lucky to acquire a four-top, as we were last night, it's likely the hostess will do some "match making" and seat another couple with you.

Sure enough, after we started our dinner we were joined by a couple relatively new to town. He's a 39 yr. old art dealer. She's a 25 yr. old biologist. When I did the mental math, I realized the age gap was almost exactly like the years separating  Mick and Molly.

And between songs we picked up the back story: they had met at a local bar a few months back. He had just moved here. She was just passing through on her way to Kansas City to start a job with a consulting firm.

Sparks flew that night. And somehow, withing a few weeks (she had to retrieve her dog) she was back here, moving in with him, looking for a new job in this rather backwater but beautiful community. 

It reminded me a little of the lightening that struck when Molly and I met, more than 24 years ago. But sadly, we were encumbered: both married, me with two kids, etc.

I told the young lady that she was lucky to have the freedom to follow her dreams and heart when that lightening bolt struck. If they're very lucky, they may be here and happy together 24 years from now, the way Mistress and her devoted Slave are. Though we sure wish we could find the means and moxie to be here in the shadow of the Sangre de Christo Mountains full time, rather than back working in River City.

But of course, we plan to continue making the best of our adventures, no matter where we call home.

Now.... on a completely different subject, as folks who have used Ashley Madison in the past to help Mistress acquire her lover J, we found the attached article about the billboard below more than amusing:

Of course, as far as we are concerned, cuckolding is not cheating, is it? Plus, we have nothing to hide in our tax returns.

Where's Molly?

Mistress and Slave have been enjoying out week away. Though there has been time spent working "remotely" (does that mean disengaged, or away from the office, or both?), we've had plenty of time for sex, bike riding,  sex, listening to local music, and more sex here at our Mountain hideaway. And the sun has allowed Mistress plenty of time for her favorite passtime: sunbathing naked while reading a book.

She's also tried to keep in touch with J, who no doubt is missing having her a little closer at hand. I tried to help the other day by surreptitiously texting him a photo of his "fuck buddy" as she lay naked out on our patio, the sun dappled mountains forming a scenic background.

"He says I must be a nudist, Slave...."

The photo above shows Mistress talking to J on her cell yesterday afternoon, right before we headed for a bike ride along a trail that borders the Rio Grande gorge.

We do love the folksy quirks of the local culture and habits out here, which are so different from the "stick up our asses" mindset of River City and its environs. The other night we were at a local music festival featuring various forms of "Americana" music - a swirl of folk, country, rock and swing that seems timeless and well suited for dusty trails, big sky and craggy mountains.

During a break a local "celebrity" known as "Mattress Mary" (I know, she sounds like a woman of ill repute from South Pacific, but she actually runs a bedding and mattress store; she also reviews films on the local radio station) took the stage to ask help finding her dog "Molly". She reminded us that this particular black Lab appears in her billboards and print ads. The dog was boarded at a nearby ranch when she went on a recent trip, and somehow wandered off.  She assumes a good Samaritan may have taken in Molly, and wanted to spread to word that Molly's owner wants her back. Last night, when I took Mistress out for her favorite local cuisine - spelt crust pizza smeared with goat cheese - we saw this poster as part of Mattress Mary's campaign to reclaim Molly:

I'm just using my vast sex-blogging audience to spread the word: Help find Molly!

Let's hope he didn't encounter one of those bears lurking about.

Honey Trap?

After Mistress read the morning entry, I think she was a little surprised that I proceeded to some vanilla, but muy caliente wake up sex here in our remote UCTMW southwestern HQ.

"No switch today, Slave?", she asked, after she had given me permission to cum.

"I thought I'd save it until this afternoon, Mistress."

"Just don't interfere with my sun bathing, Slave."

"Would I do that?", I teased.

After a bike ride, we did spend most of the afternoon out in the patio, with Mistress completely naked, stretched out on her chair, ber trusty kindle in hand.

Slave was reading to, in between forays in our yard in my on going campaign to encourage a pesky colony of prairie dogs to "move on".  I will not share the inhospitable details of my effort, but it did involve shredding an old bath towel into strips. And I set aside 4 of them for later that afternoon.

Around 3:45 pm Mistress was making sounds suggesting she was "done" for the day's sunbathing.

"Not quite yet, Mistress."

I reappeared a few minutes later with my terry cloth strips, and proceeded to tie her wrists and ankles to the chair.

"I thought you had forgotten about switch day, Slave!"

And then, once I had her secured, I went in for some other tools: Her hitachi magic wand and an extension cord.

First I used my lips and tongue to savor her clean shaven folds, which had been marinating all day in the warm high altitude sun. The flavors of salt, sunscreen and her natural musky juices intermingled in a heady cocktail.

Then as I gently applied the hitachi as she squirmed against her bonds, I teased a bit.

"You know we do have some organic honey inside.  I'd love to get a photo of a bear in our yard after yesterday's run in.  What if I smeared some on your breasts and folds, then sat quietly a few yards away with my camera, waiting for events to unfold?  That might make for a great photo op."

"What, you want me to get mauled?"

"These aren't grizzlies, Mistress.... they'd probably just lick the honey off with those rough tongues...."

Of course, Slave would never do that, would he?

It all became a little moot, as the hitachi was having it's inevitable impact on Mistress's wanton body. Soon she was squirming harder, forcing herself against it's churning head, and begging for permission to cum.

And Slave was indulgent.

I do enjoy watching her go over the edge, bound securely to her chair, eyes scrunched shut in ecstasy.

Soon she was unbound (at least her ankles) and we proceeded back to our bedroom, allowing Slave to take his well earned reward to polish off our switch day sex.

I just feel sorry for the bears' lost opportunity.

Boo Boo, is That You?

Yesterday morning, Mistress woke to call from her lover J. He was calling on his way to a golf match and wanted to make sure was all ok with her out here in the high dessert. When I heard her voice I knew it was time to shut down my lap-top, make her some coffee and get her primed for some wake-up sex.  Which, of course was particularly lovely out here in our favorite bedroom, views of the mountain looming over us as we relaxed after some lovey start the vacation right cum(s) for both of us.

About an hour later, Slave was out in our back yard when I saw something that was unique for these parts. On the flight here I had read an article in the Times about bears coming ever closer to human turf in Colorado and New Mexico this year due to the agonizing draught. They are desperate to gorge before the winter hibernation season, and have been forced to loot trash bins and invade kitchen pantries when a window or door are left open.

But it's something we don't expect here, on a flat plain, about 1 mile or so before the Sangre de Christo mountains pop up behind us, with lots of fences between us and bear country.

Nevertheless, as I pulled some weeds that had popped up on our patio, no more than about 10 feet from me, an adolescent bear scampered between a low adobe wall and a stand of red willow bushes.
The little beast was about 4 feet long, and maybe 3 feet high on all fours as he/she casually strolled by.  Of course this suggested that Mama bear, no doubt considerably bigger was not far, so I simply held my ground rather than follow the little rascal.

I brought this up later to Mistress, who was sorry she had missed my sighting.  It did not prevent her from napping out on the patio later in the afternoon, though, and letting the mid-afternoon sun grace her naked breasts.

But it my impact my switch day plans for her.

"Mistress, what if I tie you to that chair tomorrow, smear a little organic honey on your clean shaven folds, and see what develops?"

That would be one of those horny babes in bondage meets wildlife story that 'Nilla would go for wouldn't it?

"If you tie me out there you better not leave me alone, Slave."

Probably a good idea. Now I have more to worry about than the Fed Ex man getting an eyeful.