A Colorful Weekend

Here in the SW the sun keep shining, though the temperatures are moderate, to the cool side at night.

From costumes to the skies there were all sorts of colors on display up on the ski mountain for the big barn dance music festival. There were lots of funky fashion stylings, including these two Texas troubadours, the country rockers Bob Livingston and Claude "Butch" Morgan.

And then there was Mistress, cloaked in her traditional tie-dye, drifting off at mid-afternoon for a little nap in the shadow of a closed for the summer ski lodge:

One musician we enjoyed was Lari White, who's song "Lead me not into temptation (I can find it all by myself), had a certain Domme like quality.  Check it out out here .  After a long day of music we drove down the mountain to our little hideaway, and cuaght some more color.... it was raining a bit on our "flatlands" and a lovely rainbow had popped up, visible end to end. Here's just one end:

Hard to beat that, or the sunset that followed.

This morning we happily decided that there was no place we needed to be, unless we get motivated to listen to some more music after dinner, down at the restaurant one half mile down the street.

Of course, that should leave time for some more carnal endeavors. Mistress also enjoyed my deployment of her power tool (the Hitachi we keep here), before she rewarded her work-a-day cock with a little attention. Soon she had me begging for the opportunity to fuck her.... which she ultimately granted.

After a long and cardio challenging  bike ride, Mistress promptly shed her clothes again, and after some scrambled eggs with goat cheese that her Slave whipped up, she has retired once again to her reclining throne on our patio, leaving her Slave to watch the pussycats game....

And since we are on Mountain time, at least the game will be over in plenty time for some afternoon nookie before we even consider leaving the house again.

Wake-Up Sex Interruptus II

We had another great day here in our Hideaway, spending a good bit of the time up on the mountain at this weekend's big "barn dance" music festival. Great scenery. great music. and great people watching. Slave particularly likes the combination of cowboy boots and short skirts that fall into the "cowgirl/slut" category.

And Mistress found herself fending off not a few cowboys who wanted to join her for a Margarita at a bar on the festival grounds when Slave stepped off to the Boy's room.

There was a 2nd stage venue set up at lunch time in an alpine setting we rarely get to when the ski slopes are shut down. Mistress was pleased to score a space to stretch out on one of those chaises she covets on a sunny ski day.  But since there was a moderately sized crowd about she could not absorb sun in the nude. She did get to work on tanning those lovely legs though.

But the primary theme of today's blog has to do with our morning sexual encounter, and we're asking for a little input.

We've both been using our mornings to do some work here, and with the two hour time deviation, when it is 8 am here, and we're inclined to set aside the laptops and get frisky, it's already 10 am back in our business worlds.

Slave had finished worshiping Mistress as she read the blog, delivering one starter cum, earning permission to fuck her. And I was well into that process, hopefully having rewarded Mistress with one more cum when her phone started up....

text chime....

"Just ignore it Slave."

Slave refocuses on the task ahead.

text chime # 2.

"I'm ignoring it.... you should too, Slave."

Slave begins to lose focus.... who could it be... one of our kids.... business.... an annoying sister....?

Text chime #3

"WTF"

The work-a-day cock begins to wilt, like a soggy overboiled carrot.

Then... last straw... Phone rings.

"Whoever they are they sure are persistent...."

By then Slave had wilted to a useless chunk of flesh, and a conversation ensued about whether or not Mistress should check her phone in case there was an emergency. Not surprisingly, Mistress was displeased with Slave's apparent annoyance, and now apparent inability to proceed without some external assistance.

Being the kind and generous Mistress that she is, she spoiled her Slave with some oral stimulation, that got things flowing once again..... the fucking resumed, and Slave was benevolently allowed to cum, after asking permission of course.

But afterwards, we talked about how things had gone down.... literally.

"Maybe I should have denied you permission Slave.... you were kind of an asshole."

Moi? An asshole?  Probably right.

I tried to explain that guy physics requires some focus that can be easily waylaid. At least at my semi-geriatric age.

So how Should Mistress have handled this incident....having been satisfied already, "punish" her Slave with a bit of denial for my loss of focus, and petulance?

Or sooth me back into action as she did, with her lush lips?

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.