HNT/ Mistress Likes a Good Adventure

This week I have been talking about Mistress’s many desirable attributes. And a lot of them are the physical components that make up the very sexy whole.

But there is a more abstract quality that ties it all together: a sense of adventure, her willingness to press the edge of the sexual envelope in a way that always seems to inure to my benefit, too.

Molly does like an adventure. When she was a wee lass she was the type who signed up for summer programs that involved scaling the Grand Teton in Wyoming, and Mt. Ranier in Washington, or traipsing through the wilds of Alaska keeping her eyes pealed for Grizzlies.

But Mistress’s need for a good adventure is not limited to what she does in hiking boots.

What made her connect with this older guy back in the spring of 1988? I was 38 and she was just 23 when she called my bluff. I had been flirting in my dopey way, finding excuses to see her or be seen by her. She was the one who showed up in my office one day to frankly ask me, “So Mick, when are we going to do something about all this flirty stuff?” And from that first encounter, Mick was lost. But she was the one willing to take the risk.

Not long afterwards, when Mick suggested that it might be fun to tie up the little vixen as a prelude to a good fuck, Molly was all in.

I can remember one particularly choice scene in the Smokies in Tennessee, actually involving both sex and hiking boots: Molly tied, back to a tree, her jeans around her ankles, my face buried in her moist cunt.

And she was more than happy to lend me a firm wooden hairbrush to turn her bottom cherry red one day in a hotel room in our nation’s capitol.

Now that the tables are turned, and I am on the “s” side of a more formal D/s relationship, Mistress’s sense of adventure is every bit as sharp.

When I included in our contract a right for Mistress to take other slaves, or even submit to a “Master” of her choosing, it was only a matter of weeks before Mistress was testing the waters, and sharing the sordid and slutty details to drive me bonkers.

Just yesterday, after I brought Mistress her wake up coffee in our rustic bedroom here on the edge of the Sangre de Christo Mountains, Mistress shared with me an email she had received from Sir M. He was confirming their “date” next week, and soliciting another explicit photo as tribute before her return to town.

As we slid into bed together, I reached a hand between Mistress’s legs to discover that her cleanly shaven cunt was already wet and ready.

“Hmmm, Mistress. Already wet? I guess you like those emails, don’t you?”

“I am?” (mock coyness in her voice).

“Yeah…..very wet, Mistress. That email turned you on, admit it?”

“I suppose it did, Slave.”

Soon we were too focused on driving each other crazy with fingers and mouths to continue the conversation.

Later that day, we were up at the top of the mountain, with the surly teens, skis and boards at the ready. The older teen asked to shop for a T-Shirt on sale in the small, snow covered building used by the Ski Patrol as their Mountain Top HQ. We popped off the skis and stepped into the small, well used shack, filled with the detritus of gnarly guys who ski all day and (no doubt) part hard at night. These are guys who buy sunscreen by the gallon, and rope in 100 yard hanks.

Three or four Ski Patrol dudes, unshaven, bronzed and wearing their red and black jackets, chatted us up as my daughter made her selection. One, a guy with a ragged beard, seemed particularly interested in Molly, noting that he had seen her often on the mountain in recent years.

I just stood back and watched Molly deploy her considerable charm.

Back on the ski lift later that Day, Mistress was frank in her assessment:

“If you ever dump me (like that would happen), I’m coming out here for one of those guys.”

“You liked them, Mistress?”

“Oh, yes. That guy with the beard. Definitely.”

“He seemed a little scrawny to me, Mistress?”

“But in VERY good shape.”

“Well you don’t need to get rid of me first to sample his ‘stamina’, Mistress,”

“Of course I don’t, Slave.”





“Do you think he knew you wanted him, Mistress?”

“Hah. They probably see me as some suburban Mom with very vanilla tastes.”

“Wonder what they would think if they saw that shaved cunt of yours. Mistress?”

Not much of a reply. Just a little, “Hmmmm,” from Mistress.

I could tell that she was already contemplating her next adventure.