Managing the Clock

One of those well worn football clichés is that a coach “manages the clock” well. Or not so well, depending on the final score.

Yesterday was one of those days when Mistress and her Slave managed their clock pretty dang well:

I was up pre-dawn, to do my “homework”.

Then, as the sun was rising over “our” mountain (the one in the photo yesterday), we read in bed for a bit, before Slave dove into Mistress’s fragrant folds with hungry lips and tongue, to be rewarded – once she was satisfied -with the opportunity to take Mistress with my firm “work-a-day” cock.

“It was particularly hard this morning, Slave”, Mistress told me afterwards.

That’s something a Slave always likes to hear.

After breakfast, we headed up to the Ski Mountain under a bright, cloudless ski, for our first runs of the season. Not much of the mountain is open yet, but it was nice to get in those first turns, stretch out those muscles and enjoy the sunshine.

But after about 6 runs, the trail was getting a bit crowded with other people’s surly teens (even worse than one’s own), so we decided to retreat back to our hideaway for lunch.

There was lunch at that infamous picnic table…. Fresh mozzarella and tomatoes for me; some Spanish goat cheese on spelt bread for Mistress.

Mistress had already laid out a Mexican Blanket on a lounge chair… she was stripped down to her (surprise) black long undies, and after lunch settled into a luxurious nap under that amazing sun – it was up to 50 degrees by now.

I raked up some late fall leaves, then planned to read as Mistress rested, but soon found my self snoring on an adjoining chair.

But by around 2 pm, Mistress was awake.

“Time for our bike ride, Slave…. Then I’m going to fuck you in the ass.”

What else could I say, but “Yes, Mistress.”

My cardio system handled the ride better than the evening before. We are already re-adjusted to the altitude.

We returned about an hour later, a bit sweaty, justifying a shower before our planned activities. As I was drying off, Mistress took charge.

“Get out my supplies Slave….and the riding crop too.”

I hopped to, and soon Mistress had her harness on, riding crop in hand.

“Roll over, Slave. I want to see that bottom.”

She had a little trouble coming up with a good excuse for my discipline…. Quite frankly it was so lame I can’t remember it now… but it was enough to justify a firm and steady flurry of blows to my bottom.

By the time she was done, I was squirming, chewing on a pillow to stifle my exclamations.

Ouch.

Mistress is taking this up a notch. Which is probably good for her Slave.

Tossing the crop aside, she climbed into bed next to me, and we clung and cuddled a while, as her hands roamed over my reddened butt and my straining cock.

And then she was positioning me to be taken with her “tool”. Mistress took her time - thrusting home, filling me, until she was moaning with her own climax, before collapsing onto me, her work done.

After catching her breath, Mistress extracted herself, removed her harness, and returned to bed. Now it was my turn to do the penetrating. And I was happy to oblige.

After we were both spent, I fell asleep, spooned against Mistress, as she read a novel. About 30 minutes later, I was woken by the sound of her I-phone’s ring.

“Hmmmm….. it’s the Western Correspondent, Slave ….”

“Go ahead and talk, Mistress,,,, I’ll get up and start dinner preparation.”

I slid out of bed, still a bit groggy, and pulled my jeans …. Commando …. But there was no biking planned, so the odds of M style cock chafe were slight ….

Then I closed the door behind me to give the “little lovebirds” some privacy. They’d not spoken much in the last two days. My sense was that they both were a little needy on that front…. And a good Slave tries to accommodate his Mistress’s needs.

When Mistress emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, she was dressed, and announced she was heading down the street to do a little Christmas shopping for our teens.

“M says he might call me while you watch your football game tonight, Slave.”

“That’s fine, Mistress….”

Ah … football. Back to that….

My alma mater had it’s big rivalry game last night. Fortunately I was able to jerry rig our tiny TV to get it here. I knew I would be poor company for Mistress as I suffered through their travails … could they end that long ignominious losing streak to these notorious cheaters? It could be a long evening.

So as I settled into the game…. getting dinner ready too, I had no qualms that Mistress got her call from M near the end of the first quarter.

“Do you mind, Slave….”

She is a considerate Mistress, even though she has no need to ask my permission.

I told her where her Hitachi could be found, in case it’s use was required on her “date” with M. And as I watched my team manage their clock well at the end of the first half --- two TD’s in the final 2 minutes – I could hear Mistress’s soft, murmuring voice through the wall to our bedroom.

We were both in our own form of heaven.

At the half, Mistress emerged, a contented look on her face.

She inquired about the score. And after I told her the good guys were clinging to a precarious lead, I asked if she had scored too.

“Yes Slave…. But he had me use my fingers this time….”

You’ll me happy to know that my alma mater won….. at last. Mistress spent the rest of the game curled on the couch, in front of the fire, snoozing in contentment.

And we were both in bed by around 10 pm or so….my arm wrapped around her.

All told, I think we get an A for our own Saturday clock management. But that does not make us Bowl Eligible. Unless there is a bowl for sexual excess.