Ride, Mistress, Ride.

Mistress was in a feisty mood yesterday morning.

I had risen early, catching up in the news, writing yesterday's blog, and brewing some coffee. When called back to bed, I made sure to utilize my tongue and lips to provide her with a little starter cum, than apparently only whetted her appetite for more.  While her work-a-day cock was already primed and ready for action, she insisted on having a little appetizer before the main course.

"I want to suck my cock now, slave."

Who was I to object?

After teasing her little plaything to the very edge of an existential crisis that would have spoiled any further fun for her, she climbed on board for some enthusiastic cock riding.  And while the UCTMW staff videographer had the day off in honor of  Good Friday, this helpful pirated video gives you a sense of what transpired next:

Rest assured that Mistress took all the pleasure that some wake up cock riding could provide, and then generously permitted her passive slave to have his fun too.

Then it was time to stagger from the bed to handle some work chores and phone calls with clients back in the "real" world.  Bummer.

At some point, with the sun in full but the temperature still in the 40's here at 7000 ft., I sought out Mistress, only to discover that he had already settled down for some pre-skiing sun worship out on our patio. As you may be able to detect, Mistress already has added some bronze to her skin tone. As she emerged from the shower yesterday evening, her tan lines are already emerging after a winter of gloom in the heartland.

Nothing like a head start on summer while enjoying the final snows of winter.

It Takes A Village

Here in our high desert hideaway, Mistress and slave have been slowly bouncing back from our 3 am phone call earlier in the week, and the low level anxiety burn about our daughter in Brussels. She's back in the city now, trying to get back to her normal routine, and telling us not to watch the alarmist reports on US television news.

Good advice, no doubt.

Mistress and slave are trying to get back into our normal routine too, with our traditional wake up sex, some work on the phone or at our computers, then some skiing, then an afternoon nap followed by some worship to tide over Mistress's sexual requirements. Last night's evening activities involved Mistress participating in a local public radio "radiothon" to support the local county animal shelter. Being a "cat person" Mistress was more than happy to lend her deep and sensuous voice to the cause.

The "radio station" was actually an airstream trailer out on the Mesa - a flat expanse of sage brush and prairie dog villages that stretches out from the mountain range behind our house to the deep river gorge 15 miles to the south. And the airstream is parked in the backyard of a funky brewery and performance space that some locals have constructed in the wide open spaces.   It may be the micro-brewery with the vest view in America (though I've not been to Bend, OR).

The crowd last night at the brewery looked like a casting call for a movie set in the '60's about the Haight Asbury scene in SF. Apparently this is where all the hippies moved when the rents got too high in the bay area.

But today's headline is not about micro-brews and hippies, but was triggered by something that Terri over at A Married Sissy said yesterday.   His wife Diane got home late from work and bluntly informed Terri that he should mark down an orgasm for her on his daily "Chastity Report". (This slave would be embarrassed to do a chastity report because there would be so few entries reflecting my denial, but to each their own!)

Terri knew his place, so did not ask the "who, what, when and where"  concerning Diane's particular cum O' the day. But he speculated that her lover Paul had provided some oral pleasure at the end of the day in the privacy of Diane's office.

And this seemed to raise some jealous impulses. Apparently Terri believes that he should have a monopoly when it comes to providing oral sexual pleasure to his wife. As opposed to more traditional sexual intercourse, which he may consider to be the proper role of a cuckolder / lover like Paul.

Now it may not be unusual (and in concept it has a certain hot factor) for a cuckolder and / or wife to limit the cuckolded hubby to non-penetrative sexual services, I've never heard of any corollary, i.e., that the cuckolder should NOT be allowed to provide oral sexual pleasure to the wife. After all, don't some alpha guys enjoy the occasional opportunity to reduce a woman to a quivering mass by the simple use of lips and tongues? If the shoe was on the other foot, I certainly would!

Nor do I have that particular jealousy gene.

Mistress's own occasional lovers have always seemed to enjoy that privilege, and Mistress has reported her enthusiastic enjoyment of  their oral attentions when and if provided. She has an apparently bottomless sexual appetite, and sometimes it's a team effort to satisfy it. ANd those clean shaven folds are mighty tasty and tongue tempting.

I like to think of myself as a team player. And like any NBA "role player" coming off the bench  to spell a star player in foul trouble, who am I to object when said star gets to score from a variety of places on the floor while I am on the bench?

To pervert a phrase made famous by a certain Presidential candidate, it does take a village.

Night On the Mountain

Mistress and slave had a stressful day yesterday, commencing with  a 3 am phone call from a daughter "studying" in Brussels. In a shaky voice she reported to her half asleep father that  1) bad shit was going on; and 2) she was safe and secure. We admire her tenacity and "it's not about me" attitude. But it was a sleepless, scary night, which will no doubt lead to several more months of nagging fears about an off-spring far away in a dangerous part of the world. Luckily, she is safe, and now out of town for a few days as the dust settles.

So yesterday was a rather "fun-free" day for Mick and Molly (believe it or not, we didn't get around to sex until late afternoon). But we hate to let our readers down,  so let me roll back the clock to our Monday night here.

We had skipped skiing for the day, to take care of some annoying client service matters. But we made plans for dinner and music up on the mountain with some friends. Of course, our dinner companions know nothing about our kinkier proclivities, which allow for the occasional tease.

Example: The lady of the couple notices a bruise on Mistress's wrist.  Mistress explained that sometimes the silver native american bracelets she wears will cause these sorts of tell tale bruises.  But slave interjected:

"Are you sure those aren't handcuff marks?"

Sadly,  my snarky comment went over the heads of our dinner companions.

Later we adjourned to the rathskeller of a charming mountain lodge, where one of our favorite musicians was playing.  It was his last weekly gig there this winter, with the ski season winding down. The crowd was varied and festive - locals and ski-weekers from out of town. 

For some of the guys there, Mistress was compelling bait.  But because I was not sitting next to Mistress but next to our male dinner companion, I apparently missed all of the attention Mistress was attracting.

I did notice the guy who sat next to Mistress, chatting her up as the music played. Later, Mistress informed me that he was an electrician who spends winters here, with a wife back in Chicago. he was a handsome guy, maybe in his late 40's.

"B ( a female friend who knew this guy) said he wanted to know who I was. I think he was disappointed when I finally introduced you as my husband, slave...."

"No doubt, Mistress."

As the hour approached 11, we knew it was probably about time to leave. We stood by the door, listening to one final Bruce Springsteen cover. I guess I was more focused on the music and the whirling dancers to notice Mistress's next come on. She reported it to me as we walked down the hill, back to our car, the trail lit by the full moon.

"Did you notice the big guy in the flannel shirt, slave? The guy standing by the door".

"No Mistress, did I miss something..."

"He said he was disappointed I was leaving, and had wanted to get me to dance with him...."

"Bummer. Another missed opportunity."

As my friends who share the "cuckold" gene can confirm, the sort of flirtatious behavior that might annoy the crap out of some husbands just seems to fuel the imagination here at the UCTMW World HQ.

Mistress Chokes.

It was another heavenly day of ample sunshine, warm temperatures and uncrowded slopes here in the high desert. And it's even better on a Sunday when Mistress and slave don't have to slavishly monitor their I-phones while riding the ski lift ,to create the impression that they remain attentive and engaged in that alternative work universe.

And of course before we hit the slopes there was sex. Slave even unwound the extension cord and plugged in Mistress's favorite power tool to give her a nice shuddering cum before taking advantage of her weakened state of consciousness.

But back to the slopes. The blue skis. the well groomed cruiser runs that make you feel like Spider Sabbitch or Suzie Chapstick. All the stars are aligned for an epic day.

And then, Mistress's big opportunity came. As we crested a rise at the top of the mountain and prepared to slide off the chairlift, there HE was -- casually strolling in his red and white ski patrol jacket, walking two cute mountain rescue dogs.  It was Mistress's fantasy Mountain Man, the guy who holds the USA record for "bagging" Everest. He works here in winters between guiding treks to Denali, Kilimanjaro, the Antarctic, and Nepal. Mistress and MM  are "intimate" facebook friends, and on our last trip here he even gave Mistress a little hug and kiss on the cheek when she chatted him up after his world spanning slide show and lecture.

Was this karma. A chance to follow up, maybe finagle an apres ski beverage?

This is how things unfolded:

Slave: "Is that him, Mistress...."

Mistress: "Uh....ummm.... I think.... uh, yeah.... that's him...."

(Chair hits apex where it's time to unload.... Mistress and slave slide onto the snow, dodging one cute dog).

Slave whispers an aside: "Say hello, Mistress..."

Mistress:  "Wow.... I....not sure..... ...."

(Uncertain, Mistress slides past MM, gaining speed on her skis as the window of opportunity slams shut.)

Slave:  "Hey [first name of MM].... nice dogs...."

MM: "Yeah.... great aren't they....."

(Of course, MM doesn't know who the fuck slave is....he's only talked to Molly in the past)

When I caught up with Mistress I politely asked why she didn't say anything to her fantasy MM.

"I didn't want to be a stalker slave...."

"But you weren't stalking, Mistress ... he was right there... in front of you.... you had to turn to avoid running right into him...."

By now Mistress was recovering from the jittery knees and flush that no doubt started somewhere betwixt her clean shaven folds. She was apparently too embarrassed to hike a little ways back up the hill. And MM was now bringing the cute dogs into the ski patrol HQ adjacent to the lift. Heading back to say "hi " would clearly have been stalker-esque at that point.

Poor Mistress.

Another missed opportunity!