Biding our Time

Mistress and Slave have had about enough of our spring-breaker here at our Mountain Hideaway. We find that after about four days of feeding and entertaining her, and listening to her rants about a variety of things that annoy her.... from visa requirements, to drones, to bad skiers, to the local bars that are reluctant to serve a 19 year old.... well, we are more than ready to send her back to campus.

Not that we've been unable to squeeze in some pleasure.... we've kept to a pretty steady two-a-day schedule even with her here, but one has to keep down the noise and listen to her complain about how all we do is "sleep".

Well a late after noon, apres ski "nap" makes good sense doesn't it?

In the meantime, I suspect Mistress has been saving up reasons to give her Slave a cropping, and I was happy to realize that we should get back from dropping our little bundle of whines off at the airport in time for a proper switch day on Sunday!

The sad news is that Mistress's fantasy Mountain Man has bid adieu to our parts and is now on his way to Katmandu for the Everest Climbing Season.  Suzanne suggested that Mistress tag along, but the price tag quoted for the tour he is guiding is $60,000 a pop. But that does include 70 days "lodging" in a tent at altitudes above 18,000 feet, and all the Yak steaks you can eat.

"I bet they have groupies at base camp, Mistress...."

"I'm sure they do, Slave."

Maybe she could sign on as a "service provider".

Fortunately for me, Mistress has not yet booked her flight, and we still have a week to go out here before skulking back to River City to discover whether we still have jobs. And while the weather has been rather cold so far (though not as snowy as that Soccer Match last night up in the WC's hometown), we look forward to a warming spell so Mistress can work on that "no tan lines" tan on our deck.

Finally, I want to apologize to Suzanne for her unfortunate selection fo my alma mater on her NCAA Men's bracket. You should have asked, Suzanne! Those lads are firmly entrenched in the "One and Done" column. Overly Pampered Pussies is what I was calling them last night when I exposed myself to about 15 minutes of their  sad N(o )D(efense) performance.

Now the ladies team? That's a different story. They are the Dommes on that campus. The "men's" team should be required to launder their undies and fill any other personal needs they may have during their tourney run, all the way to the Final Four.

Mountain Man

Mistress got us 2nd row seats in the bar at the Ski Area on Tuesday once the lifts shut down. She was there to see, listen to and (if possible) flirt with her hero, the guy we will call the Mountain Man. He's a part time ski patroller on our Mountain, but his real gig is "Super Hero", guiding groups willing to pay $38,000 or more a pop to climb mountains in Antarctica, the Himilayas, and Alaska.

As it turned out MM was funny, charming, and entertaining, showing off his slideshow of recent ventures to Everest, Denali and Kilimanjaro. Though Mistress was a little concerned when he kept mentioning some other woman, a doctor, who accompanied him to Africa this winter and was shown popping back a dislocated shoulder of some Tanzanian "bearer" along a rocky trail.

When the presentation ended, MM was surrounded with followers, and our "spring-breaker" who had been bored for most of the show, was demanding to be fed. So Mistress was unable to linger for a little face time.

But all was not lost: yesterday, after Mistress posted something on her facebook page speculating about whether some chip on her Arctyrx jacket would save her in the event of an avalanche, MM appeared out of cyberspace and commented back! He said the local Ski Patrol would be happy to save her, after all the T-shirts she had bought at the Ski Patrol shack over the years.

s you might expect, Mistress was on slow simmer for the rest of the day after that.  And she almost needed rescuing after she and our surly boarder girl decided to make the 1/5 hour trek to the "Peak" for the views and the long challenging ski down. (The pictures shows what that trek looks like... Slave's done it before and well... let's just say I'm not crazy).

Naturally, the boarder left her mother in the dust on the way up. But Slave waited dutifully for Mistress at the bottom of the run as she made the long ski down in deep, barely tracked snow. (yes, folks, that picture at the top shows the run they came down, from the very top).

At home, Mistress showed me her FB messages with MM.

"DO you think he's flirting with me, Slave?"

"I don't know what else to call it, Mistress".

Sadly, it may be a while before we find out. MM is heading to Nepal for the Everest climbing season on Friday! And the surly boarder is here until Sunday.

Bummer for Mistress. I'll just have to hep her forget him.

A Chilly St. Patrick's Day

In these parts that old saying about March as both lamb and lion can play out in a single day, as we learned here yesterday.

The day started with Slave eating his breakfast out on the patio in bright sunshine, after some lovely St. Patrick's Day wake-up sex.

But by the time we got up to the ski mountain, dark clouds had gathered and the wind was whipping something fierce. There was even some fresh snow to ski on.  Sadly, we had underdressed for the occasion, and were pretty danged cold.  Mistress and Slave, if they had their druthers, would have beat a hasty retreat down the mountain for some "indoor fun". But our daughter whined that she only had a week to ski and therefore she was not going to be cowed by some hurricane strength winds and a white out.

Fortunately, even she had more of this bone chilling weather  than she could handle by around 2 pm, allowing us to throw in our frozen neckgaters and call it a day.

Back at the cabin, Mistress and Slave had a good excuse to brew some tea and retreat to our bed for some "shared bodily warmth".  We came up for air around 7 pm, and headed to a local bar to celebrate our Irish heritage.

Fortunately, the venue was lively, with good music and dancing. It was so much better than the stuffy affair I typically attend on St. Patrick's Day back in River City, a room full of "Friendly Sons", all in tuxedos, trying to impress one another with how important they are.  This was just pure fun and frolic, in the shadow of our beautiful snow dusted mountains.

Our not yet 20 "spring breaker" was happy that she was not carded, and that her Dad could order some alcoholic beverages for her. She even got asked to dance by some local who looked twice her age.

She bashfully demurred.

Fortunately, the sun is out again this AM, and should be out for a good chunk of the week.

On today's agenda is an apres ski slideshow by the Ski Patrol member that Mistress has been lusting for these last few years.  He's the guy who "summers" on Mt. Everest, and spend some of this winter climbing and treking in Antarctica. Mistress has been stalking him on facebook.

Last night, a mutual admirer of this mountain man mentioned to both of us that she would be at tonight's presentation of his latest adventures, drooling from the front row if possible.

"You don't need to me there, Mick. I think Molly and I can handle it."

"Don't worry",  I said, "I'm just happy to watch....."

I wasn't sure if in her St. Patrick's Day buzz, she got my meaning.

No Tell Motel

Mistress and Slave called an "audible" late yesterday afternoon.

We had arrived in ABQ shortly after noon, planning a day of local site-seeing before picking up our "spring breaker" after 11 pm then making the drive up to our mountain hideaway.

We walked around the scenic "Old Town", saw a "flash mob" of Indian dancers, and had a late and filling New Mexican lunch at an old hacienda, built in 1706, that has been a restaurant now for generations.

Then we took a hike through an old Canyon littered with native American petroglyphs. The sun was out, the setting was arid, and by the end of the two mile loop, both of us were parched and a little tired.

It had already been a long day.

And without any sex.

Huh?

That's when Slave introduced some improvisation.

What if we skip a fancy dinner and just check into a sleazy motel, Mistress..... a 5 hour stay that will give us a chance to 'unwind' before that long drive north."

It did not take Mistress long to see the genius of my new plan.

"That's the best idea you've had in a long time, Slave."

Glad to know I am still hitting on all cylinders every now and then for an old guy.

We found a properly sleazy setting, checked in with little baggage, just like in our old "on the side" days, and soon stripped away our dusty jeans and shirts.

Mistress's folds had that well exercised taste that Slave particularly appreciates. And after I had pleased her with my lips and tongue, she ended that long, nightmarish 36 hours of abstinence for her Slave.

We napped a bit, and I made sure to pleasure Mistress one more time before we skulked out of the hotel at around 11 pm to collect our daughter.

The desk clerk saw us sliding out.

"Leaving so soon?"

We made some seemingly lame excuse about picking up our daughter at the airport, But I suspect he quickly filed us under "sleazy affair, both going home to their spouses after a Friday night fling."

"I don't think he bought it Slave".

"I can live with that, Mistress."