Mistress Forced into a Towel

We've been getting in some long early morning bike rides here after the traditional wake-up sex rituals. Yesterday Mistress selected one of our more difficult routes. The heart valve clearing type, at least when it comes to old Mick. I always feel I've bought another year on the planet after I work my way up to the top of this one (you can see the bottom of the valley who rode up from from this view).

"I like to make sure my Slave stays in good shape", Mistress is wont to say. True, I need my stamina to make sure she is satisfactorily pleasured, particularly when there's no stud-on-the-side available for her amusement.

After the ride, we reverted to norm, with Mistress shedding her cloths for some work and relaxation out on our patio. She was settled into her kindle, with nothing else on her reclining throne when we suddenly heard a voice calling.

"Molly, Mick, are you here?"

Oops. It turned out to be a local potter (also pothead) friend who had slipped up the drive without us hearing him, to commiserate about our Prairie Dog problem.

Mistress was a little slow to react when I suggest she take shelter, but with her typical aplomb, blithely greeted our pal wrapped in the towel she had been lying on. And you will be happy to learn that through his 30 minute visit, when he was no more able to nail a prairie dog with my pellet gun than I have been all summer, Mistress kept to her towel, promptly removing it once he wandered back down the driveway to toss some more pots (or whatever potters do).


We have become a bit more social in the evenings as we've gotten settled in here. On Wednesday night, we went to a local restaurant where one of our favorite troubadour's holds court weekly "for the rest of his life". Mistress showered before hand, and emerged with some complaints about nicking herself shaving. But luckily she did not draw blood from the clean shaven folds. Rather, she had used some left over bandaids that probably were acquired when our kids were in 2nd grade or so.

"Are these Sushi band-aids a little weird, Slave?"

"Weird... my guess is that if you go out like that, you'll start a new fashion trend, Mistress."

It turned out to be a lovely evening, with an all-star musical crew, and now we're in the midst of a local Music Festival with a variety of singer/song writer types from these parts, with a touch of Austin and Nashville.

Suzanne will be happy to know that we ran into the notorious Mattress Mary, who, happily, has a new dog to replace the one she was searching for this time last year. (In case you think we're making Mattress Mary up, check out this video

All this music may actually cut into our afternoon sex for the next two days, since this is a noon to late sort of event. But I have a feeling we'll find time to make up for it starting Sunday.

HNT/ Mistress Goes for the Record

We've got a lot of privacy here at our Hideaway. Just pastures and mountains behind us, so only horses can check us out from the north. Some low walls, trees and our house block the views from the highway or our neighbors, who are more than 100 yards away in any event.

So that allows Mistress to bare all when she is sunbathing.

But she took her "can't be bothered with cloths" thing to a new record yesterday.

She slept naked, and until our 9 am bike ride, she didn't feel any need to play dress up. Certainly she didn't need any for our wake-up sex.

Then, when we got home from our ride at around 10 am, she shed her riding clothes, and didn't bother to slide into anything until we got ready to go out for dinner at around 6:30 pm.

So there she was:

making breakfast naked.

Sunbathing naked, of course.

Sitting at our picnic table doing some work on her computer, her free form boobs casting provocative shadows on the key board.

At that point I asked whether she had ample sunscreen on those luscious orbs.

"Yes, Slave.... plenty."

At some point she did remind me of my duties. Laying on her chaise in the sun on her back, she said "This might be a good time to offer some worship, Slave."

I was happy to oblige, kneeling at the foot of her chair to assure some mid-day diversion for her clean shaven folds, and not stopping until she had her fill.

And of course I did respond to requests to schmear some sun screen on her lovely ass, giving me the chance to surreptitiously take this photo for all of you lurkers.

By my calculation, that was about 8.5 hours without clothes here at our Hideaway.  We may get a letter of protest from the folks who make Tide. This sort of thing could be bad for their business.

Since there is no Fed Express delivery expected today - no, Suzanne, we did not order that flimsy cock cage you suggested from Amazon - I have a feeling the horses will get another nice view today.

Hunkered Down in Our Hideaway

Mistress and Slave made it safely to our Mountain hideaway here in the sunny Southwest.

Mistress has already logged some nude sunbathing time on our deck, much to the delight of the local wildlife. Fortunately, there have been no needs for a Fed Express delivery just yet.

We've also had a long bike ride, and got into our 2-a-day routine yesterday.

It's the time of year when the sun shines brightly in the morning, but then dramatic storm clouds billow and blow in late in the afternoon, cooling things down nicely, though any resulting rain is usually paltry.

Fortunately, that later afternoon cool down provides a good excuse to adjourn to our bedroom for som late afternoon sex and a nap.

I know, it's a tough routine.

We'll try to tough it out.

Mistress Airs it Out

Right now Mistress and Slave are parked in the Atlanta airport, waiting for our flight to the sunny SW for some much needed communal R & R. With kids parked at college, and summer just about done, we finally have some time away without our entourage.

Of course, we would have preferred to head west at the beginning of the three day weekend, as opposed to on its final day, but Mistress had some client minding to do and yesterday was particularly long and exhausting for her.

Sunday morning should be a lazy switch day in the empty nest. But Mistress was up at 6:30 am for an early morning session with a client and the media. She made it home by 10 am, allowing us at least some mid-morning sex, if not wake-up sex. But then she was off again around 12:30. I had to drop her off down on our crowded Riverfront, and she spent the next few hours in a boat on the river in our skunky overheated air, with that same client and a coterie of others.

There was an evening dinner, stretching into a big fireworks show that Slave was invited to, so we arranged to meet at my office, pretty much abandoned as it should be on a Sunday, where Mistress had the option to take a shower, and otherwise cool off before her schedule resumed.

When Mistress arrived, she was clearly wilted from all those hours in the sun and humidity. 

"Slave.... I need to air it out!"

And no, this is not the sort of "airing it out" they do in the NFL, when balls fly every which way. This was full bore take off all your cloths and lay on my office floor with the AC blasting airing it out.

Mistress just laid there, stretched out and naked.... letting those clean shaven folds and the rest of her cool down. We talked about her day, and of course I offered to worship.

"You'll have to do it to me down here, Slave.... I'm too exhausted to sit down in that chair."

Since there were only one or two workaholics in the office by 5 pm on a Sunday afternoon, I didn't even bother to slide the chair against my closed office door. I just stretched out on the floor at the apex of those muscular and shapely spread legs, and went to work. And despite her fatigue, it didn't take me too long to squueze a nice healthy cum from my too tuckered to sit on her throne Mistress.

Now that she has her new business up and running maybe she'll give me the title of CRO ("Chief Relaxation Officer").