Cock Shot Proliferation

Mistress and Slave are back in River City. Nothing like some gray sky and snow flurries on opening baseball season day to remind you that you are no longer in the land of Enchantment. In fact, maybe "disenchantment" best summarizes our state of mind after a day back behind our desks.

Nevertheless, we move on, and at least Mistress has some "shopping" to look forward to this week as she evaluates two potential suitors.

By Sunday, she had taken over Slave's correspondence duties with a certain Latin Lover, and by the time we were riding home from the River City aerodrome that evening, he had escalated (or should I say de-escalated) the level of discourse to subjects including favorite positions, threesomes, bondage,oral sex, etc. 

"I'm not sure what we'll have left to talk about at lunch on Thursday,  Slave."

Not surprisingly, he's a hot blooded fellow at 35, who has already pointed out that he would just love it if Mistress could find another woman for a three way.

"He's already got another babe involved and he hasn't even fucked you yet, Mistress?"

When he said he'd happily return the favor and share her with another guy, Mistress had a tart response.

"Don't worry, I know exactly where I can find the other guy."

Glad to know she was thinking of me.

Yesterday, he was already sending Mistress the infamous cock shot, which she told me about via text.

"What is it with guys and self-portraits of their cocks, Mistress?"

You see, Mistress has been undertaking a seemingly endless effort to root out past cock shots from her I-photo collection. The evils of "photo stream" have created a problem some of you may appreciate. Photos seem to migrate endlessly across boundaries between I-phone, laptop and whatever other Apple devices you have. Mistress found that suddenly she had 11, 000 photos on her thin little "Air" lap top, gobbling up available memory. And salted among them were not only the cute nakers photos of her that Slave sometimes takes, but also a collection of angry male appendages that kept cropping up again and again, no matter how many times she deleted them. The thought of one of our sullen co-eds "accidentally" discovering some of these photos on a family computer while downloading bootleg audio files is a source of heart burn for us.

Of course, a few of those cock shots were mine, all caged up, to show I was following the proper protocol when she was out of town,

But the ones that were thick , proud and ready for action belonged to some folks I will not name here to avoid potential embarrassment.

"Just when I though I had gotten rid of those, now.... more cock shots, Slave... Argggh."


She showed me one sample, and I suppose it was impressive, though it was hard to compare to a certtain "special occasion cock". 


"You really need to line them up against a coffee mug, pickle,  or magic marker to get the right perspective, Mistress."


We discussed the strange need of some men to get their goods so conspicuously out on the table, even before the first public meeting.




"I guess some folks take more pride in their peters, than I do, Mistress... to me it's just an accessory, but not the center of my self-worth."

"Who knows, Slave.... maybe he was afraid I would think there wasn't one there unless he showed it to me?"

"One suggestion though Mistress.... until this need of his passes, turn off the fucking photo stream."

Returning to Reality

Mistress and Slave had one last glorious sunset last night before we pack up this morning and head back to the grim flatlands of River City. Our readers and facebook compadres may get tired of those sunset shots, but apparently we never get tired of taking them, or watching them from our porch.

We ended the evening here in proper form: dinner at a lovely little restaurant just down the street, followed by some long, slow and passionate love making here in our bed.

It may be a while until we are back here together. We've front loaded a good deal of our vacation this year to push the boundaries on ski days (the secret we won't tell the folks back at the office: more than 30 days on the slopes this season). But we will try to take the spirit of the mountains back with us.

Somehow during our last day I forgot to tune in to see how Suzanne's team faired against Syracuse. When I finally figured out the score, I was wondering: when did the Warriors reestablish their football program? It seemed more like a football than a basketball score. That part of the Big East this Slave will not miss!  Sorry Suzanne, at least they got farther than my lads. But there are always the ladies to root on!

Back in River City, I suspect it will take a while for us to come up for air. Many items have been back-burnered and will have to be thawed then re-heated. So you may not get an update for a few days.

Of course  Mistress has some upcoming interactions with several AM prospects, including her potential latin lover, who has spent the weekend persuading her that a nearly 15 year age difference is not a problem for what he has in mind. I am sure Mistress will give him a fair hearing, maybe with demonstrative evidence, before she pronounces her verdict.

So for now, happy trails to all of you. And one more picture: we have moon rises as well as sunsets out here in the high desert:

Mistress's Corresponding Secretary

With only a day left out here, we crammed a little too much activity into our Friday in the shadow of the Sangre de Christo Mountains. Of course there was morning sex, then a day of skiing under scattered clouds and bright sun. Then some apres ski music by our friend, a local troubadour.

After a shower, a brief nap, and appreciating another glorious big sky sunset, we went out for Mistress's favorite meal here -- spelt pizza with goat cheese and mushrooms. Then more music at a new local brewery / restaurant on the mesa only a few hundred yards from the Rio Grande.  Amazingly we were out after 11 pm, way past our normal d time.

And through the day, it was Slave's job to keep up on some correspondence between Mistress and a couple of potential suitors.

With the ski season ending, and Mistress's relationship with Jay having evolved into more of a "pals" thing, well, her eye has begun to wander. So after our daughter went back to campus, she suggested I re-open her AM posting.

"But this time, Slave.... I'm expecting you to manage all of this.... filter out the losers, bring ones to my attention that appear to have potential .... and be in charge of the correspondence."

Of course, there is a bit of a thrill in being ordered to manage your wife's courtships of potential cuckolders, isn't there?

I updated Mistress's profile, making it clear that her standards are high. I've been cruelly deleting pretenders, and folks just looking for smutty photos. And over the week we've filtered things down to three folks with enough potential for Mistress to consider a lunch or drink on our return.

The most persistent fellow is the guy we have dubbed the "Latin Lover", who despite Mistress's initial rejection because he is too young - only 35 - has been dogged enough in his entreaties  to peak Mistress's interest. His pictures certainly made Mistress take notice. And he works only a few blocks from Mistress's own office. It made him a little too hard for Mistress to automatically leave on the cutting room floor.

LL was sending emails yesterday as we were skiing and out for dinner, I would read them to her, and Mistress would smirk a bit, then dictate to me her response.  One exchange involved where they would meet for lunch next Thursday.  Mistress named a nearby venue. He responded

"Yes, please."

"Ask him who should make the reservation, Slave.... him or you"

I followed her orders, which seemed to get a certain response.

"Oh you bad girl...."

Mistress's response:

"You think I'm fooling?"

You can see where this was headed.

But Mistress did ask me to pose this question to our discerning readers....

"Ask them whether I'm crazy even to consider getting involved with someone 15 years younger, Slave?"

So what do you think?

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!