Slave Put on Hold

Mistress and Slave did finally make it home after a long travel day on Monday, finally hitting the pillows back at the UCTMW World HQ at around 2 am on Tuesday morning.

So it should be no surprise that when Slave struggled out of bed to get to work a few short hours later, wake-up sex was not the first order of business. I figured I would let Mistress sleep in. And by the end of a long work day on Tuesday, the energy level was also a little low, though no so low that I forgot to worship Mistress's freshly shaven folds.  At least she deserved some attention by then.

Wednesday morning was a bit of a repeat. Slave was ready for some action before climbing into the shower, but Mistress was fast asleep when I came upstairs after soaking up some coffee.

I figured it would be rude to wake her. Later she called me at work to reassure me that she would have been happy to indulge her Slave's carnal needs.

"But you were asleep, Mistress.... It would have been like date rape or something...."

But what I had overlooked yesterday morning was that Mistress had arranged a lunch date with Jay, her back on again "side dish". Sure enough they ate out (down the street at a local chile joint) and then "ate in".... back here at the UCTMW World HQ.

"I wasn't sure he'd have time Slave..... but.... well, I think he missed me...."

No doubt.

All this action, combined with my "long" period of abstinence  had gotten Slave more anxious to climb into the sack with Mistress when I got home from work.  But there was more...

"our cute co-ed says she's coming home to drop some things off in 15 minutes, Slave.... so no sex just yet....."

Dang.

So instead of a Mistress starter, Slave was whipping up some gnocchi for the three of us last night.  But the filling dinner and a glass of red could not deter me once the little darling headed back to campus.

Mistress was very obliging, even though I have a feeling that an hour in bed with her athletic lover at lunch time probably had her a little tuckered out.

Now that is devotion.

Mistress and Slave Diverted

It seems that whenever Slave foolishly books our flights through Colorado there is a foul up.

I deserve to be punished, don't I.

On the way out there was a 6 hour delay due to a snow storm in Donkey land.

Then today, we were doing fine, heading to Colorado Springs. We even saw some beautiful wild horses, grazing at the side of the road. Maybe that was an omen that we should slow down and admire the beautiful views, the way those horses  were.

But as we approached Colorado Springs, the little automated voice for United kept calling that our flight from COS was delayed. By the time I turned on the rental car, it was so delayed that there was no way we were making our connection in Houston to River City.

Not to be deterred, I talked the United rep to book us on a direct flight out of Denver later this evening. But how to make that 92 mile trip to DIA?

I remembered that UCTMW Enterprises has a leased Hummer used by our western correspondent to suss out fast breaking stories of prurient interest to our world wide readership.

Mistress was immediately onto it via text with the WC/

Could he bring the UCTMW Hummer down I-25 to rescue us?  There was plenty of time.

But the news was not good.

As the WC tells the story, the UCTMW Hummer is in the shop being "detailed". Apparently a drum of his high end lubricant burst in the back seat during the recent cold snap.

"He says it's quite a mess, Slave."

No doubt. But that got me wondering ..... Why is UCTMW also paying for that heated garage for the Hummer if the sucker's parked out in sub-zero weather with a drum of overpriced lubricant? Late night at the ranch?

So we were forced to rent a car, and make our own way up I-25. Now we're waiting for another delayed flight, but at least no connection to make. If only all the shops weren't filled with all that PFM stuff!

Drone Fail

Here in the Land of Enchantment, Mistress and Slave have our "two - a - day" rhythm going, made easier by the fact that we skedaddled down from the mountain after only a few runs yesterday due to  subzero, windy, foggy conditions. Thankfully, the fire and other "pursuits" not requiring hand and foot warmers kept us more than engaged.

Then, in early evening, we headed down to our little "downtown" where the galleries and museums were lit by bon fires and farrolitos kicking off the holiday season. A light snow was falling, carolers were singing, and the scene created one of those idyllic  Christmas Eve panorama that makes you think of old Bing Crosby movies (at least if you are an old fart like me).

We didn't stay out too late. The snow was coming down in earnest by the time we pulled into our drive, and it is still falling. Should  be a good day on the slopes before we head home tomorrow.

I understand from Suzanne's blog that she and Tammy are headed to the Patriots game today, and she mentioned that Tammy will be wearing his CB for the occasion. Ouch. I hope he steers clear of the beer. My big concern about a cock cage at a sporting event is waiting in line to take a pee. He is certainly a better trained Slave than the old pampered one behind this keyboard.

And the WC? Sounds like his daughter declined the generous offer of tickets to today's Donkey Game in mile high city. So he's off to freeze his body parts off. Their was hope that Donna would get him one of those custom made "cock cozies" to prevent dickbite. Such a festive look too:

But alas, the delivery drone she had borrowed from Jeff Bezos and Amazon had an unanticipated problem:

Here's the thing about the drone, WC. 

While I worked out the weather situation, air speed, filed a flight plan, and arranged for careful packaging for your cock warmer, I neglected to consider the mental instability of the people living in this area. 

The drone hadn't even make it out of the county, when some local yokel blasted it out of the sky with his bazooka that he brought home from WWII. It fell from the sky leaving a flaming trail and caught a local evangelical church's Christmas tree lot on fire. The old gents minding the tree lot may have been imbibing a bit while trying to keep warm while standing outside waiting for people to stop and buy a tree. Their interpretation of events is that the Christmas star reappeared in the sky then fell in a blaze of glory to the grounds of their First Self-Righteous Church, marking their church the only true church on the planet. 

The yokel who shot the thing down isn't going to come forward because he's been warned before about shooting that bazooka, and I'm not saying anything since drones get bad press around here. I understand word of the wonder has spread, and the church is expecting record numbers of worshipers on Sunday morning for the blessing of the special "cloth arrow that points to the heavens" that was found in a silver (aluminum foil) container where the star blazed out. Did I forget to mention that I had placed a dildo in the cock warmer to help set it's shape...which might be described as rather arrow-like.

Sad to say, I can't knit another one fast enough to get it to you before the game. You'll just have to wrap things up and avoid drafts. 

With apologies,
Donna

Bummer WC. Hope you, the special occasion cock, and PFM all survive today's titanic struggle. 

Sheltering In Place

It's a very festive time of year here in our little hideaway. And although it's colder than normal (gee, thanks Sin for shipping that Canadian cold air in our direction) we've been enjoying some time together - between the sheets and elsewhere.

Last night there was an event in town where local businesses decorated and sold Christmas trees with profits going to local charities. We both like this one, put together by a funky local lingerie store, decorated with ceramic skulls and death masks -- sort of a goth Christmas. There was a funky dance band, and a skinny guy dressed in a Santa Suit taking some of the locals for a spin on the dance floor.

Mistress and one of our friends even flirted a bit with the local Mayor. As with most folks here, he is a jack of all trades: He sings in an Hispanic band, owns a radio station and a local bar, and even a music supply store.

How could we tell he was the Mayor? Well he had a jacket on that said so.

Of course, we didn't stay out too late. We had been out on the cold slopes, and spent some time in the sack through late afternoon. We needed to preserve our energy for another day on the mountain.

We woke a little early, indulged in some feisty wake-up sex, and discovered that the sun that had broken through yesterday at sunset was now hidden by another layer of snow clouds. settled down before the fire, eating breakfast, we debated whether to venture out.

Our sense of adventure overcame our good judgment and we ended up on the slopes at around 11 am. The wind was blowing, the snow falling, the air chilled with a cold fog obstructing what are normally stunning views. The lift operator confirmed it was minus 12 degrees as we slid into position for the ride up the mountain.

Dang.

We did make it through a few runs until our toes, fingers and faces began to numb up. (And never fear WC, Mistress's work-a-day cock was well protected from the perma-frosting).

The snow was nice, but then it's early in the season right? Plenty of turns left, and powder stashes to explore. So Mistress and Slave locked up their skis and turned tail and headed back to our little cabin.

The Keva fire place is now roaring. Mistress is spread out on the sofa with her kindle as Slave blogs this update, and we are wondering what the heck possessed us to venture out at all. I have a feeling we will soon be back in our bed, doing what a Mistress and her devoted slave are wont to do on a cold day in our empty nest.

Stay warm, compadres.