Tights Season, RIP

Back here in River City, spring has finally arrived. Trees are blossoming. Slave has already done the first annoying lawn mow of the season. After a long and unusually snowy winter, it's about dang time.

But the one downside is that Mistress had finally put away those black tights that I have a bit of a fetish for, and the women on the street are also switching to the naked leg look, depriving Slave of his lunchtime eye candy.

Of course, there are advantages - including ease of access yesterday afternoon,  when Mistress stopped by my office after lunch for a little dessert by way of my eager lips and tongue. All she had to do is wriggle out of some black silky undies and the clean shaven folds were out and ready for her Slave's devotion.

Yum.

Cuckolding in the News

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Snow, Sunsets, and Wookie Feet

Getting onto our 10th consecutive ski day, this Ol' slave's legs are starting to show their age. So as the snow fell here once again yesterday afternoon, Mistress and Slave made a tactical withdrawal down the mountain yesterday afternoon. (That photo is Mistress on skis. Aren't you glad she wears a helmet?)

That early retreat was all the better for reading by the fire, napping and then waking for some pre-dinner sex.

When we woke at about 6:30 pm Mistress expressed some sympathy for my plight.

"I bet you're legs are tired Slave, so what about me riding my cock so as not wear you out."

"I'll happily permit that, Mistress."

"Since when are you in charge?"

"Good point, Mistresss."

Sure enough, after some oral worship to provide a nice starter-cum, Mistress rode on until (almost) sunset, providing a vigorous start to our evening.  And as the sun set once again, peeping our from under the snow clouds along the distant western horizon, Mistress was wheedled into modeling her retro- Wookie feet after-ski boots, a gift from her sister that came in handy with all the snow we've had here at the end of  the season.

Aren't they cute?

Fortunately, Chew Backa is not around to draft her off into the sage brush and have his big hairy way with her.

With the sun in its final throws, and Mistress getting dressed for our last night out on the town, I persuaded her to join me on our front porch to bask in the alpen glow. Fortunately for all of us, she did not slide into her robe, and I had my camera ready:

The Missing

We're wrapping up our trip here just as our local ski mountain is shutting down for the season. And what better way for the ski season to end than with a couple of snow storms in the last few days, covering up the brown that had been popping through and providing us with some powder stashes to slide through as we polish off the season with so many ski days on our passes that we are embarrassed to share.

Combine the skiing with our two a day sex regime and some evenings out with friends, well, the time has flown too quickly for us here. The thought of heading back to the office and the drudgery of River City is hardly compelling.

Mistress has been on the phone a bit to her hometown lover.

"I think he misses me, Slave….."

"I'm sure he does, Mistress."

Speaking of "missing", Donna left a comment earlier today wanting to know how the WC's birthday visit played out. Sadly, the last we heard from him was the message that he was jumping in the UCTMW mobile news van and would be here in about 4 hours to partake of the birthday gift offered by my indulgent Mistress.

After that…. well he slipped off the radar screen. Vanished. Caput. Not a trace. Not a word.

There was some heavy snow on Thursday that buried the pass that he would likely have come through on his trip south to our hideaway. When he failed to turn up 12 hours later, we contacted the  authorities.  Mountain rescue teams have been scouring the pass and adjoining wilderness for the last 48 hours. To no avail...

But then it occurred to us: Maybe the WC stopped by one of those new marijuana dispensaries before hitting the road. With the clouded judgment that likely ensued if he had ingested a few "crazy cookies", who knows what route he may have taken.  And it's possible that to throw curious family members off his trail he shut down his cell phone - the equivalent of a little black box - that could be used to trace his chosen ( or accidental) course.

In desperation, we contacted the folks at CNN to put the WC on their radar. They've already come up with some compelling theories on what happened to Miguel  and the UCTMW mobile news van he was last seen driving. They include the following:

1) hijacked by terrorists who will use his ID to infiltrate a government building somewhere in Oklahoma…. or maybe Kansas?
2) beamed up by space aliens newer Roswell, NM who are curious about the reproductive habits of the males of our pathetic human species. Will they think the special occasion cock is typical?  Or calluses on the right hand?
3) Bushwhacked and left bleeding on some seedy Colorado trailer park  by the avenging Cossacks he had cheated in poker one late night in Sochi while covering the winter Olympics?
4) drowned in a tub of that high end lubricant he stumbled into reaching for a bag of fritos to tamp down a vicious case of the munchies?

I suspect Wolf Blitzer and his talking head panel of "experts" could have come up with more equally plausible theories to explain the WC's disappearance. But then there was "Breaking News" about some empty Foster's cans  found floating off the Australian coast that got them distracted.

Donna, we'll let you know if he ever turns up. And if any of our readers have any theories on what happened to the WC, feel free to add them to the list.