"Simone" and "Sam" have been forced to go on the Lam, after some sloppy security work exposed them to their potential "enemies". Fortunately, they've found help through the SBPP.
("Sex Bloggers Protection Program"). Follow their adventures here until its safe for them to resume their prior alter-egos.

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Hunkered Down in Our Hideaway

After a long day of traveling, and some “in-air antics” inspired by Aisha’s dare, Mistress and her Slave made it to our little hideaway here in the shadow of the Sangre de Christo Mountains.

It was a beautiful, cloud free day for that 3 hour drive, though the temperature was dropping in inverse proportion to the altitude’s increase.  And as her Slave drove through beautiful vistas, Mistress read a book and kept in touch with M via text message. He was skiing with family a  hundred miles or so to the north, where there has been considerably more snow. 

So they traded photos – he and his kids on skis, and Mistress’s shot of the fresh guacamole at a charming restaurant we stopped for lunch along the way.

We stopped for provisions at a local organic grocery store, and quickly jumped back in the car as the sun sank precariously low – Mistress was determined to get a bike ride in before we lost the “magic hour” light  that made Georgia O’Keefe give up the Big City all those decades ago.

As we pulled out of the grocery store parking lot, Mistress’s text chime went off. It was M, back from skiing and eager to talk. Mistress had sent him a little teaser text about her in-flight O, and he wanted the details.

Soon they were chatting.

“I had this big sweater with me, so it just went over my lap…. And then I slid off my pants underneath.  It was actually pretty easy….”

“He says he’s proud of us, Slave….”

“I offered to get the Slave off on the plane…. But he said it might be too messy.”

“Plus I was on the aisle, Mistress….”

It’s hard for me not to toss in a line or two when my name comes up. Impertinent, I know.

“True, Slave… I think he’s kind of horny now, M….. “

Her hand reached over, running a finger down the fly of my jeans.  She was right.  The scent of her musky juices had clung to my fingers through the afternoon and my Pavlovian reflexes were pathetically true to form.

“But first, a bike ride…. It’s been a long day of sitting on our asses, and it’s so beautiful out.”

“Of course, Mistress….”

M and Molly chatted a bit longer, until the cell reception faded, and we were pulling into our driveway.

We had no more than 30 minutes of a sinking sun left, so scrambled to unlock the bikes, round up some gloves and hats, and head out.  By now it was in the low 30’s and darn chilly, particularly in the brisk wind coming down off the mountains.

And Slave was huffing and puffing as we hit that first hill…. Feeling my age and the altitude. I had forgotten the value of acclimatization, but Mistress was right. We needed the exercise.

And we made it back in one piece, in the dark by the time we finished our circuit, stars popping out in the high dessert sky.


Now we had time to unpack our provisions, make sure things were in good order.

I poured Mistress a Tequilla,  and myself an Jamieson.

Now the time had come…..

“Why don’t you take off your cloths and get in bed, Slave….”

“Excellent idea, Mistress….”

Soon we were warming ourselves under the covers, Slave naked, Mistress still in those lacy black panties, and nothing else.

“Wow…. Your bottom is still cold, Mistress….”

It was still warming up after those 45 minutes  in the saddle. I used my hands to warm her chilly cheeks, occasionally dipping between them to confirm that she was already moist and juicy for me.

And her fingers were busy too…. Fondling my cold cock until the blood began to flow back and remind me how very long it had been. 

(Yeah, Sin, I know 36 hours is hardly a big deal….but still.)

Mistress was rewarded with a few more digitally induced orgasms as we clung to one another to spread the warmth. And soon I was begging for the privilege of fucking Mistress. 

“Yes you may, Slave… I think you’ve waited long enough.”

Indeed, it sure seemed I had…. And I began robustly, sliding hard into her, working to make sure she had an orgasm or too before I was begging for the privilege.

But I had forgotten the cunning logic of high altitude sex…. Pace yourself. No matter how horny a male slave might be…. When you come from the flatlands to 7500 feet or higher, it’s easy to lose your breath.

So Slave had to back off a bit, slow, then vary the pace.  And WTF, there was no rush… No kids to drive or nag us…. No schedule at all.

So Mistress got her money’s worth…. And hopefully a premium, as Slave took his time to get her over the top a few more times, with those languorous shudders and precious moans.

And soon enough, Slave was begging too: Desperate for release, and then, after permission was granted, coming for her in a series of eruptions that seemed like it had been a week, not a day….


Mistress is very kind.

I slept for a bit then, while Mistress read.  I think I woke to the chime of her text message.

She reached for it, laughed.

“It’s the Western Correspondent, Slave… eh wants to know what the two lunatics are up to….”

“Aren’t you glad he’s keeping you on a short leash, Mistress?”

“Why yes, Slave…. I am.”


WC said...

Good morning u 2 lunatics from the 303. I am actually a little stiff from the first day of skiing, feels good though. Glad to see you r up to your usual antics. too too fun!

your western amigo rides again

take care
and send my check

beingaisha said...

O, very nice. Glad somebody's getting some. Of course, I can always count on you two.


strivingforpeace said...

totally jealous

as always