A weekend in Banff

I decided to take the wife to Banff for a nice little romantic weekend. Yeah I’m fucking Ballin’ like that. We don’t get to do this sort of thing nearly enough so I was extremely excited about the chance to get nice and romantic and really set her loins a blaze.

The trip down was nice. We rented a car at the Calgary airport and made a beeline for Banff. For a guy that is used to white knuckling highway 63 regularly, the drive from Calgary to Banff is a welcome treat. Nice scenery and two lanes all the way. Gorgeous.



We arrived at the hotel and immediately we have our doors opened by the “door men.” They take our bags out of the car and tell us that they will have them brought up to the room. This is pretty sweet but it puts me in an awkward position. Am I supposed to tip these guys? They inform me that it is going to cost me $33 for valet or $25 to park it myself down the street. Again, I’m ballin’ like that so valet it is. One guy takes the keys and I accidentally make eye contact with him and we share that awkward pause. I know what he wants and I know I’m not going to give it to him. As my wife and I are walking to the room we discuss the issue. Perhaps I’m not as ballin’ as I thought because we have zero fucking clues as to what the proper tipping etiquette is in this situation. After we check in, we run into the guys dropping our bags off in the room. Again, an awkward pause. This time they focus on my wife looking for some sympathy. She’s cheap as hell so no cash for them.



We got ourselves ready for a night on the town and decided to walk into town from the hotel. We wandered up and down the street, looking for the right place to eat but by the time we decided, everything was closing. Thank fuck for 24hr McDonalds. They have a little lounge area there and we sat down and watched some Olympic curling while we chowed down on our fancy feast. We called it a fairly early night because we wanted to get an early start on the hill in the morning.



We decided to hit Lake Louise the first day. We caught the shuttle from the hotel and arrived at the hill at 9:30. The weather was amazing. It was 15 degrees out in the sun, a perfect day for snowboarding. Now I’m no expert boarder or anything but I can handle myself just fine. The wife on the other hand, well she is a certified ski instructor. She is a very skilled skier so I made sure she went snowboarding! Ha there is something really emasculating about your woman being better at something athletically than you are. And she is good. Not so much on the Snow board though. I mean, she is technically sound and has zero problem carving but she is a thinker. I think I mentioned before but this girl is in a different class than me intellectually. Scholarship/top of the class/degree with honours having type shit so her brain is always in over-drive. She psyches herself out of it. She gets too paranoid and it really holds her back, which causes her to fall a lot. Now I may not be as intellectually gifted as her but I have a clue about a few things. I know the surest way to make your brain stop that pain in the ass thing known as “thinking.”

ALCOHOL!!!! Most of you know that I tend to enjoy the bottle from time to time but my wife isn’t what you would call “in my league.” After a few runs I notice the sweet Kokanee bar at the bottom of the hill and suggest we have a couple of drinks to loosen her up a bit. I tell her that it’s not like we have to get drunk but it will help her relax a little bit. She was surprisingly very open to the suggestion.



At 11:00 in the morning, my wife and I are sitting at a bar on the side of a mountain in the gorgeous sun. Me with two pints of the goodness in my hands and one on the table in front of me and her with two glasses of wine. It was perfect. After she downed the first one I could sense the nerves in her starting to loosen up. By the time she finished the second one she was ready to party. We headed up the hill and had a good laugh between us. I love it when she has a coupe of drinks. She is hilarious. We strapped on the boards and pressed play on the iPods and away we went. Do you remember in Bill and Ted’s bogus journey where they need to learn how to play guitar so they go back in time and go through six months of intense guitar training and come back with the ZZ-Topp style beards? It was like my wife did that, minus the beard. Haha…. Beard.



She was rocking down the hill and I could see she was having so much fun because she was singing and dancing a little as she was carving up the slope. She wasn’t drunk at all but just a couple had loosened her up. It was great. I fucking love alcohol.



We finished up the day and decided to go out for dinner back in Banff. This was the night of the first Canada-USA game so I wanted to go somewhere where I could see the game. We decided on Tony Roma’s but when we got there the lounge was completely full so there was no way to see the game. We decided that we would stay at the restaurant even though I could not see the game. I could have scored myself some sweet brownie points for this if it wasn’t for the fact that I was being a whiny bitch about it. I was wearing my Canada jersey but I took it off because I didn’t want to look like a loser not watching the game. I wish I had been totally cool with it because as you all know, Canada got spanked and I ended up losing one of those “he is the greatest! He would do ANYTHING for me!” type moments. Oh well fuck it! It was the Olympics.

The next day we were supposed to hit sunshine but we were feeling really lazy so we decided to switch our spa day. I had been feeling crappy when I went to bed. My stomach was rotting and I had a headache. When I woke up, the feeling was still there so we stayed in bed and ordered room service. It was sweet to just laze around naked and relax. I started to feel a little better so we headed to our romantic spa appointment at 1:30.



It started off with a 90-minute couples massage. My stomach was still feeling horrible like I had to shit something fierce but try as I might, it wouldn’t go away. I thought I might be getting some sort of food poisoning. That sucks balls.

Here is the scene. A dimly lit room with two massage tables and some sort of Tibetan trance music. My wife and I are lying naked on our respective tables underneath a blanket. Our masseuses (both girls) came in and started doing their thing. They start with you on your stomach and work on your back. Again, this is a 90-minute massage and they really make you relax. The girl I had was a magician. Her hands felt like 1000 angels touching my body. I could feel the tension in me slipping away. I could also feel that tension in my stomach shifting. It was like she knocked loose a blockage in my stomach and things started moving. This was about 10 minutes into the massage.

I knew I was going to have to shit and I knew it was going to be bad. I wanted it out so badly because it was making me feel horrible, but I also knew that there was no way I could interrupt this massage and do it subtly. The tiny little bathroom was three feet away from my wife. I couldn’t bare the thought of interrupting her massage with the sounds of my scutter-bum echoing through the door. Side note: I don’t fart in front of my wife. Never have. It’s not that I am trying to stay sexy for her on anything. It’s just that I don’t want her to fart in front of me. I hate that shit.

So there I lay and the masseuse is starting to work on my legs. She starts on the upper thighs and ass. She is really working my ass well here. Have you ever been fucking a chick and grabbed her ass and she lets a tiny little fart out? I have! All I am thinking about is keeping inside what I know is trying desperately to get out. Again, she is really working my ass here. It feels great but I’m way too tense. She even pauses to ask if it hurts because I keep flinching. “I’m good!” I lie.



Another issue happening is arousal. I can’t help it. When I get a massage it turns me on. I’m lying on my stomach and I have my dick tucked down between my legs. This chick has my blanket pulled to the side and I know she can see my junk. I’m thinking that all she can see are my nuts back there so I do a casual adjustment to lessen the nut view and make sure that there is some shaft to “accidentally” gaze upon. There is a battle in my head going on. Keeping the greasy fart inside but making sure that she can see what I’m all about, so to speak. I’m pretty sure she caught on to my game though because she stopped working my thigh and ass and went to my feet. On the way back up she pretty much skipped my other thigh, just stopping quick enough to apply some oil and went straight to the arms. It was a bittersweet feeling because I was loving the ass/thigh treatment but I knew I had escaped a horrifying ordeal.



I was in agony by the time the 90 minutes were up. I could feel the air gurgling around through my bowels but I kept it together. After the massages were over, we were supposed to head to the pools together. I told my wife that I’d meet her in the sauna in five minutes. I made my way to the locker room and found the nearest toilette. I went to sit down and when my ass touched the seat I was expecting it to stop. I forgot that the masseuse just finished covering my body in oil. I slid right down through the seat like a wet bar of soap in the shower. My balls were practically touching the water but the movement had already started. Normally I like to spread as far as I can to minimize the contact on the way out for cleanliness purposes but this time it was like sticking your thumb over the top of a hose. My ass was pinched shut and the explosion happened. Spray EVERYWHERE! It was such a relieving feeling to finally be free of the beast within, but there was no chance of being able to wipe clean. My nut bag felt like a strawberry at a chocolate fountain. I didn’t even attempt a cleaning. I managed to pull myself free of the confines of the seat, grabbed my robe and waddled the 30 feet across the change room, holding the robe tight between my legs, past the dudes who obviously knew what was up and to the shower where I was able to hose off. I feel sorry for the cleaning lady that found my nice fluffy white robe in the bin.



I finally showed up to the pool where my wife was waiting and I made up some bullshit story about running into some guy I knew and having a chat. She bought it because she was telling me the same thing. She said she ran into one of her teacher friends but all I could picture was here going through the same ordeal as me.

Needless to say, by the end of the day I was feeling like a champ. We went out for dinner that night and hit Sunshine for the final day. This time we stopped for a few drinks before we even hit the slopes. Everything was going great until her buzz started to wear off, at noon! So we downed a few more drinks and she was feeling great again. The day was rolling along great. Warm weather and sun again and a hill that wasn’t too crowded. I think she had a little too much to drink though because on the last run she bit it hard and wretched her shoulder pretty bad. It’s a very fine line between loosened up with a buzz and being drunk. It really sucks seeing your lady in pain but she handled it like a real trooper.



That was the end of our little romantic weekend. Aside from the wipe out and the shit storm it was pretty much a full-blown success. There is nothing a like a weekend of vacation sex to spark a relationship. And a weekend of snowboarding really does wonders for a woman’s ass. Mmm Mmm Mmm. I love my girl so much and I love that after all these years I still love banging the ass off her!