Caged Night Out

Mistress has been MIA for 36 or so hours now. I must say it's odd not being in touch at all. But the boat she is on has no native wifi. Her only connect-otunities  are when they come ashore on some remote island and the locals are obliging.  And then she's competing with her fellow travelers, who are checking on the balance of their trust funds!

Then again, with all those prospective lovers on board, maybe she's just too busy to check up on her slave.  It makes me wonder whether she's been able to go topless on those pristine beaches, like this shot of her along the banks of the Rio Grande.

Slave was particularly busy yesterday, catching up on a backlog of maintenance issues here at the hideaway. Trying to suppress prairie dogs. Working to keep up the impression that I am still busy at my desk back in River City. And going for a long bike ride.

But it seems the days are longer here without Mistress to serve and keep me company. Even naps aren't as much fun!

So last night I elected to venture out to here some two-stepping Americana music at a local "dance hall" set in an ancient old adobe structure down the road a piece.

Dancing out here is more ritualized than back East. And its more about getting out and seeing your neighbors than "hooking up". There are plenty of single guys and gals of a certain age displaying their ability to twirl and scoot in their cowboy boots and western finery.

And although I had on my boots and cowboy hat, I am willing to bet I was the only guy there in a cock cage!

Of course I am clueless when it comes to those two-stepping moves. I just sat on a stool against the wall, nursed a couple of IPA's and enjoyed the music and the people watching.

That's not to say I didn't have my opportunities. Three  women in the 60+ age range who had made the 50 mile trek over a twisty mountain pass were concerned that I wasn't out on the dance floor.

"Do you waltz?", a nice lady with a June Cleaver haircut and baggy jeans that were better suited for milking the cows than a friday night outing, asked me, with a nod toward the floor.

I explained I was a midwesterner and not inclined to embarrass myself.

"Well your dressed for it", she said, a reference to my hat and boots apparently. I guess I was an "all hat and no cattle" sort of cowboy pretender.  But then she added:

"That's fine. I'm not in the mood for giving lessons."

Not a problem. She was soon on the floor twirling with an old codger who knew his moves, leaving me to my beer.

Later, during a break, one of her friends took her best shot at  coaxing me out onto the floor. She was a tad more fashionably dressed, in black pants and boots. But what was most intriguing was a special skill:

"I killed a bear once with a bow and arrow."

A black beer. That was in Canada.

"So where do you shoot a bear with an arrow so it dies, rather than being maimed and pissed off?"

"In the heart."

Silly me for asking.

Around here she bags  antelopes. But only when they're laying down.

"You have to stalk them".

So Cupid has some competition in these parts.  I mentioned that the guys she dates might want to wear Kevlar. We then discussed whether Kevlar could actually stop an arrow.  It's in doubt.

Now you wouldn't have a conversation like that on a Friday night in River City.

And no, she did not coax me onto the dance floor either. But it did make me grateful that at least I had some steel covering my tender bits.  This babe clearly had a very accurate aim.

Free Range Slave

Slave made it out to our SW hideaway after a long travel day. It's nice to be where the air is so much fresher and cooler, and away from my office for a while, though it's odd to be here without Mistress.  The patio needed to be weed whacked upon my arrival. And while it is now more pristine, it won't be the same without my Mistress there requiring me to apply ample sun screen.

And of course, there's no one here for our other important daily rituals.  "Milkings" are getting a little old, truth be told. It's much more fun when I have to ask Mistress permission before being allowed to cum. And if I've earned it by giving her 2 or 3 first.

I did hear briefly from her yesterday, right about 5 pm mountain time that tell tale chirp from my I phone notified me that she was on line.

Unfortunately, the viber voice signal was unreliable, so re reverted to text messaging. She was on the island where Paul Gauguin painted all those bare breasted island babes.  No doubt Mistress is tempted to take her bikini top off too, but she's got the Dowager Domme and our cute graduate keeping an eye on her.

She mentioned that in addition to the French guy, David, (about my age) there are two other prospects flirting with her:

"Guy from UK who is traveling all over the South Pacific solo. My age."

Then there is a 40 ish Hawaiian who seems to have caught Mistress's attention.

"He's on the faculty at the University of Hawaii. An anthropologist. He's doing the lectures on natice culture.  He's very hot, slave."

"You seem to have an abundance of choices, Mistress."

"Yes, slave. The flirtations continue. Maybe it's my age. But they all just keep following me around...."

Well maybe it's her age.  But I suspect it's more her inherent potency. Plus, bunking with her Mom, she's gone without a good cum for a whole week now.  The pent up demand probably has her oozing pheremones.

I almost feel sorry for those guys on the boat with her.

As for me, my protocol is the wear the cage when I venture out at night. Although I don't think there is much risk of me being taken down my some predatory Mistress here in our little town on the high desert.   Last night I went to a local sports bar to catch the Cavs v. Warriors game. The only lady who chatted me up was covered in tatoos and was convinced I was some guy named Rick who had been a dick to her the day before. Fortunately I convinced her she had me confused with some other dick, or I would have been wearing her Mojito.

I guess it's time for me to do a photo shoot for Mistress, and then get back to the weed whacking.

Dommes at Sea

Mistress somehow got a wifi signal around 1:30 pm my time yesterday, briefly lighting up my I-phone with an email and a few text messages which amply fueled my cuckold predelictations, So here is a little verbatim which like minded readers might enjoy:

"Miss you slave, and dying to tell you stories.... many of which will wait till I return. Glad to know that you are horny for me. Daniel (the French dude) keeps flirting. Interesting guy... can't decide if I am interested. We will see. 

Lots of older Australians here. All in good shape.... but old. One tried to pick me up at dinner last night. His wife died 18 months ago. Also, I think his Dad was a Nazi... he was born in Germany. Long story for later...."

We were also able to trade a few texts about some household matters and our daughter's travels, But also some with a little spice:

Please follow orders, slave!

Have been. I sent you another cock shot.

Great. Can't open snaps right now. Already looking forward to reunion sex.

Me too sounds like you are getting lots of flirts.

I am. It's funny. Think about it with your dick in your hand and remember re: the cage. 

so is the French guy still flirting, mistress? I mentioned it on the blog today.

He is. It is endless. Wish I could see the blog.

Maybe he's good with his tongue. It could tide you over.

It might have to.....

That's about when Mistress's signal died.... or maybe she got focused on one of those on board suitors.

In the meantime, Slave has been busy working. Took a client to dinner last night, watching the gritty performance of LeBron and the Backbenchers in the NBA finals, and preparing for my solo SW sojourn tomorrow morning. It's almost been hard to get that  daily milking in.

Almost!

(BTW. do you like that flashback photo?.....you can (un-barely) tell it comes from Mistress's pre-clean shaven folds day).



 

On Board Hijinks?

Here at the UCTMW World HQ I successfully delivered our youngest to the airport yesterday. She's headed off for an "internship" on the Continent. Not a bad deal. My summers as a college student were so much more banal. But at least she's cultivating a refined taste for exotic beers! There has to be a future in that!

I've had only limited contact from Mistress. The Dowager Domme booked their party onto some sort of rustic yet plush boat ride through a chain of South Pacific Islands. They are at sea for a day or two at the time, then disembarking for outings on remote shores in the land where  Marlon Brando found shelter in his declining years.

On Sunday afternoon I got an unexpected email and text message asking if I had been "following the rules".  She said they were on a tiny island where someone living in a small home had a "hot spot" and gave them permission to glom on for a few minutes.

I assured her that I was in full compliance with her  protocol - daily milking plus a cock shot. Though her signal was not strong enough to check her snap chat feed for today's "viewing".

She did have an update on her fellow travelers-

"There is this man, about your age,  from the French Alps. He's here without his wife.  He's been chatting me up at every opportunity.... today I got a small cut on the coral and he was very helpful."

Slave quickly locked onto this image of Mistress sitting on the beach, while this handsome Frenchman (looking like the male lead in South Pacific, maybe?) gently tends to her lush tootsies. 

That could provide fodder for an upcoming "milking" couldn't it?

Of course the logistics could be challenging for this to move beyond some innocent flirtation. Mistress is rooming with her Mother. And our daughter is also on Board. It's a relatively small boat. But I suspect a midnight rendezvous on the poop deck made be manageable.

Slave is anxiously looking forward to updates.

In the meantime, hope you enjoy this flashback photo of Mistress from her "white album" phase.