Livin' Large

Mistress and Slave are in the "Final Throes" of our two week "recess", as Dick Cheney might put it. We've enjoyed the advent of spring here, particularly with our sullen College girl back to campus where she belongs.

It's finally warmed up and we've settled into a routine that includes a little work in the AM, sex, sun, skiing, more sun, more sex, and then some dinner, either here or in a local watering hole. And as you can see, Mistress has found a way to work on that lineless tan, (I had to sneak up on her while on a conference call to take this shot.

In the meantime, Mistress has been following the blog reported adventures of her Mountain Man, who is now treking those last 50 miles or so to Everest base camp. And he must me tracking her too... Yesterday she breathlessly reported that he had "liked"  a photo she had posted of a Ski Patrol rescue dog.

"Hmmm.... just think Mistress. Somewhere on a dusty trail in Nepal, at maybe 19,000 feet, MM was sipping some fermented Yak milk, flipped open his lap-top, hooked up the satellite internet link and bothered to check out your FB feed! Pretty impressive!"

"Do you think so, Slave....."

Poor Mistress. She has a case.

Now you might think that we've broken all records for the good life while out here. But our neighbor has set a standard that will be very hard to match.

JM was a Jewish youngster in Vichy France during the Nazi occupation. He survived that to come here in the mid-1950's to build a ski lodge and start the local ski school. THose were the days when ski fashions were a little different, and the bindings were leather thongs.

Over the years he burned through about 5 wives and fathered more than a dozen kids. Supposedly there once was a local bumper sticker that said "Honk if you're JM's kid". He clearly was a rakish charmer back in the day, though he is only about 5'4".  Here he is with his younger brother, probably back in the early 1960's:
Now JM must be approaching 80. But despite a horrific ski accident last season on opening day, Mistress and Slave spotted him out on the Mountain this week, teaching some gringos in that French accident the proper way to handle some big assed moguls with the proper style. Just like he does when racing down the mountain in classic out on the edges form. Somehow I suspect the old guy has not lost his way with the ladies anymore than he has lost his form on the slopes. Now that is something for an aging Slave to aspire to!

Empty Nest Frolic

Out here at our Mountain Hideaway, Mistress and Slave have been doing some things that would have been "sketchy". according to our daughter who "sadly" is no longer with us.

The door to the "executive suite" no longer has to be closed.

On Sunday, Slave broke out the Hitachi, no having to worry about prying ears hear that buzz or the moans of delight it produced.

Monday afternoon, Mistress required me to insert the aneros and enjoyed riding the extra hard cock it produced, oblivious to the enthusiastic sounds it produced from both of us.

Then there was the naked sunbathing yesterday afternoon. It may only have been in the high 50's but the sun was intense, and Mistress could not resist working on that all over glow she relishes.

But the best example of what you can get away with when there is no judgmental teen tutting away: Mistress in her skimpy nighties scampering across our front "yard" dodging Prairie Dog holes in order to catch one more dramatic sunset shot:

Free At Last

It was 3 degrees here Sunday morning in the Sangre De Christo Mountains when we headed off to the nearest airport, our beloved spring breaker in tow. Now she is safely back in her dorm. We hope she enjoyed the company fo her parents over the last week, though the jury is still out. We know we enjoyed seeing her .... for at least a few days too. Our daughter may see her parents as some alien creatures, sort of like this character ... probably an image of a cranky, demanding parent carved by some teenaged Anasazi punk on a rock about 1000 years ago, who we found on our hike outside of ABQ when we got here 9 days ago:

On the drive back we were doing the highway happy dance.... it was a beautiful day for seeing the mountains, mesas and blue sky, and Mistress and Slave were empty nesters again.

"It's like our vacation is starting all over again, Mistress...."

"Finally, Slave....."

Taking that drive back north to our hideaway was like hitting the re-set button, though we did dutifully follow our daughter's slow progress East, making sure that she was not rejected for surliness and returned to us by Delta.

Back at home, Mistress wrapped herself in an old Mexican blanket and laid out on our patio, while Slave persued another Apparently unsuccessful remedy to find a "Final Solution" the the Prairie dogs digging up our front "yard".

"You'll just have to wait a little longer for sex, Slave..... this sun is just too nice."

I was happy to wait patiently until that cool wind and some scattered clouds drove Mistress indoors, where I had already readied her favorite power tool.

Mistress slid into some sheer sleepwear and slid into bed where we cuddled and canoodled for a while, no having to worry about the tender ears of a 19 year old offended by the sounds of her parents engaged in passionate endeavors.

Then Slave had Mistress role over onto her tummy so I could apply the Hitachi from behind. Here's my birdseye view:

Her leg and ass muscles tensed and re-tensed, as she took her "punishment", and soon she was even asking my permission to come, remembering that it was a Switch Day here in our cozy, empty cabin.

Witnessing her moans of delight and the undulations of her ass after I gave her my permission was reward enough, I suppose. Though rest assured that I took other forms of pleasure from her before our afternoon was through.

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.