From: (Rosy B. Goode)
Date: Wed, 28 Aug 1996 14:32:45 UTC
Subject: ROSY & LP RL STORY: Forest Adventure.. 7/96 - M/F cons, spanking, sex, anal,

Warning: This is a true story for adults only. It contains (among other things) consensual adult spanking, a bit of bondage, an alder switch, orange sox &ltg>, a baby Douglas Fir, and exquisite and lusty adult sex. Please do not use this story for profit or post it to other groups without permission from the authors.

Note: This is the first story jointly written by Rosy and LP... and Rosy is hoping it won't be the last! He wrote all paragraphs starting with ***. We actually began writing this at night sitting by the campfire, passing paper and pen back and forth... quite a fun new campfire activity!;-) Polite comments are always welcome.:-)

Forest Adventure.. 7/96

M/F cons, spanking, sex, anal, outdoors

By Rosy B. Good _and_ ***LP!

Late again... story of our lives. What with one thing, then another, Plan A gave way to Plan B, and now we've worked our way through a whole alphabet's worth of plans and finally made it to the campground and got a tent up with just a few hours 'til dark on the last night before kids join us... time to make our getaway!

We curve up the gravel road, LP making smooth careful time, knowing just the spot... our favorite creek... the one that drops noisily across the boulders... the forested creek that has yet to suffer the bite of chainsaws. All the sensible &ltg> people are down at camp cooking supper now. We know we won't have to go as far off the beaten track as usual to be assured of a bit of privacy in which to commune with Mother Nature... and each other!&ltg>

Pulling the car over by the creek, we step out, me wearing one of my favorite woman-in-the-woods outfits... the pink ruffled skirt, little tee-shirt, my newest (thank you Vashti!) orange sox, terrain sandals, and my very latest in naughty panties (cotton thong-backs in a blue and red floral print). Knowing LP will want to walk behind me, my feet take the trail, my bottom, as always, following close after!;-) The awareness of LP's eyes watching me grows... as does my awareness of the power in his loving... which feels like a solid warm glow behind me on the trail.

***The pink skirt swaying before me gives me a foretaste of other pinknesses, other swayings yet to come. As the track gives us way and we pass deeper into Nature, we leave behind everyone else and all need for cloakings and code words. "When we reach the next bend in the trail," I say in a conversational tone, "we will be out of sight of the road. You will tuck up your skirt behind." This is an echo of one of Rosy's little effronteries masquerading as a suggestion.

***We reach the bend... looking back, the trailside bushes are closed behind us. "Raise your skirt."

Quivering inside, I reach back to grasp the hem, rolling it neatly, tucking it carefully in at the waist, the cascading ruffles framing delights to come like Cape Cod curtains around a perfect sunrise. He is getting an eyeful now, and I glory in the knowledge that is is an eyeful he never seems to tire of as my feet again take surely to the trail. That which will be his to take grows warmer under his gaze, and hidden currents of my pleasure grow stronger.

***Ever and again, I am struck by the tone and presence of her ass. Rosy carries it like a flag. I'm going to switch it, I'm going to scorch it, I'm going to press myself right against it and light my torch from its flame.

I ask him if there is any particular configuration he seeks. He tells me we'll find a likely spot and see what we can do with it.&ltg> The trail starts to peter out, and as we turn and head up the drier valleyside, LP cuts a nice alder switch from near the creek. The rushing sound of the water fades slightly. We come to a sturdy young pine tree with no branches for the first six or seven feet, and LP indicates that this is where we will &ltg> make our stand. Nearby, a few feet uphill, is a rather narrow but long and stable deadfall lying on the ground.

***I envision a standing scene by the pine, a kneeling pose at the downed log... Nature has done her part.

***I stand Rosy against the uphill side of the tree, facing it with her knees spread on either side of its smooth bark. I take a web belt around her waist with a sleeping bag strap around the tree and through the belt. I tighten the cinches until all play &ltg> is removed. "Take three steps back," I direct... but of course she cannot comply.

He steps up behind me, pressing and rubbing, enfolding me in his embrace, surrounding my very being with the force of his hot love. It is such a gift that he gives me, the trust to make this surrender, to totally lose myself in the power of the moment... in the totality of his love.

***I notice that her face has gone pale and cool, and she seems unsteady on her feet; she says, "I may not make it much longer standing up." A swoon of this sort not being part of my plans, I slip the two buckles that cinch her to the tree, and direct her to kneel at the downslope side of the deadfall. I pass a strap around the log and through the carabiner on one bandana knee cuff, then repeat with another strap for her other knee. This arrangement both supports and restrains her for a variety of kneeling positions on the slope, from a crouch to fully erect. In every position she is available, vulnerable.

Vulnerable... ah yes, an excellent word choice. Quivering's another good one. Oh my, tied like this on a slope as steep as that, gravity itself becomes another bond. My knees can't go down and going up would be neither quick nor easy. My body has a lot of range forward or back, but my knees are just planted... we're headed for some lovely presentations with this one!

I wait, as the cooling air of evening caresses my exposed and waiting flesh, little thrills of anticipation shooting through my core. I wait... but not too long.

The alder switch comes in low and fast... light and very quick, like the brushbeat of butterfly wings.. butterfly wings with hot little wire tips maybe!;-) The sensation is extraordinary... how can something so light and feathery build to such a sting? It's like the eentsiest little sparks landing on my behind, but so many of them and so quickly. How many eentsy sparks in a conflagration?&ltg>

***A high note, a very light touch--this is a classic opening, but the switch lends a special authority. Though she speaks to me of her exquisite sensations, I soon begin to seek a more impassioned response, slowing the tempo, bringing more of the switch into contact on each stroke, raising my arm higher on each backswing, until I am starting with my hand at head-height and following through to the opposite shoulder height.

***The effect is dramatic. Talk ceases, moans and then cries come faster and higher. At the peak of the crescendo, I rein in, place a few final strokes to round off, and pause to let it all sink in.

Well, LP never can pause long without finding a way to busy those magic hands of his, and this time is no &ltg> exception! With my knees below the deadfall, and my elbows just above it, my heavy breasts fall free and one hand begins to take advantage of this fact while his other busies itself with some of the hot spots lower down. Surges of sensation swoop and swirl within me, and the wonderful electricity builds.

***I take complete liberties with my hands upon her person, I lose myself in the pleasure of hearing and feeling her responses in an intimacy bordering on telepathy. After a time, I recall myself to my duty... Rosy has been provocative, and must be given what she deserves.

***I bring two more switches, one with a forked tip, and begin again on her now-tender bottom. A cross-hatch of thin bright red diagonal lines appears. I pause occasionally to trace and smooth these lines and then add again to the pattern. Her gasps, cries, and calls lead to another peak. I pause again to retrieve from her lips the very softest and most yielding of kisses.

Resuming his switching of my ever more tender rear end, LP informs me that I may obtain a break from those wicked &ltg> switches by politely requesting to be plugged. The switching lightens but comes unbelievably fast. Again I marvel at the fact that a touch so light can result in such powerful sensations! Finally the mounting sting becomes unbearable (temporarily, anyway!&ltg>). I ask very nicely (lots of pleases!&ltg>) for the privilege of being plugged. This asking has come to include and unspoken assertion that I will not try to impede the progress of said plug by twitching or (heaven forbid!&ltg>) squeezing.

***The buttplug's tip is like a finger in thickness and about two inches long. Then the plug swells in a round knob about an inch in diameter. At the back end of the knob, a sturdy neck connects it to a flat base I use as a handle.

***I dip the tip in Love Balm, covering it liberally. I use my other hand to spread the Rosy cheeks and reveal the small nerve-ending nexus closest to her tailbone. No teasing up and down this time... I place the tip directly on target. I hear a sharp intake of breath, but so far, her discipline holds. The thin tip is relatively easy to take, I know... one of the things I like about this plug is the false sense of security it engenders... because when I slide the tip all the way in and the knob is beginning to stretch her, I can tell that she is challenged. I go slow, feeling for that point where the stretch is greatest, sliding just past that, then pulling slowly out, to the accompaniment of her heavy breathing and groans. It's only a matter of time... she squeezes!

That's Rosy... helpless against her own desires! Notice he didn't mention what his _other_ hand was doing by the time I squeezed!&ltg> (Ooops! I'll probably smart for that remark!) One or the other of those wicked switches (or did he use two at that point?&ltg>) comes whistling through the air again... and again and again. LP is keeping his other hand rather busy too, teasing my various hot spots. He is, dear man, mostly avoiding the backs of my thighs, as we don't want marks (I don't mark easy, but switches will do it!) that will show past my bathing suit down at the swimming hole in the campground, but my buns are absolutely blazing. I am awash with sensations... burning inside and out... and I ever so politely (Rosy _never_ forgets to say please in these situations!) request our little vibrating egg.

This wish is granted, and my senses flood with even more overwhelming thrills and chills. The cutting burn of the whippy switches threatens to overwhelm everything else, and I ask (yes, quite politely) if he has brought an alternative. He reaches into the daypack and with a small flourish pulls out one of the poly spoons. Whew! Those spoons are pretty darn wicked, but they don't have quite the cut of switches. The spoon is a bit shorter that the switches which makes it easier for LP to reach my breasts as he wales away on my bottom. There is a tiny little baby Douglas Fir, right in front of my face. It caresses my cheeks and the sweet sharp scent of it underscores the primal quality of the scene. My excitement reaches new heights and at last spills over.

As wave after wave of my climax sweeps through me, I become one with the valley, the trees, the creek, ... and I release my energies into the clean pine-covered earth of the hillside, feeling so free and so cleansed...

***Rosy's climax is a peak for me too... as her whole body joins her rapture, my heart swells in my chest and my spine sings from coccyx to crown. At that moment she and I are One and Everything.

***As her spasms subside and the world returns, I realize that I am desperate to enter her. I press against her where she is, but the slope is steep, the angle wrong, for the thorough penetration I must have. We try various places and positions, each time pressing together in approximate, but finally inadequate conjunction. Though I am fired with desire, these false starts are not frustrating... they are like kisses getting deeper every time, adding to a crescendo whose finish is never in doubt.

Freeing my knees from their bonds, we move a few feet down the hill, to where the slope is much gentler, and I once again assume the position on my hands and knees. My darling kneels behind me and tries again. Smoothly, his throbbing member slides straight into my narrower passage... not what we'd planned on, but hey, it seems to be working!

***As I enter her, there is no resistance, but a firm welcoming clasp that engages every nerve of my sensitive organ. Her giving sets me free. Again and again I press myself against her, then slide back only to press once more, like the wave against the shore... her warmth and scent and cries lifting me onward past all holding back, past all thoughts, until my simple being overfills me and I burst with a mighty squeeze and a shout and another and another, on and on until everything melts.

***We settle to the bosom of the Earth and gently nestle, no boundary or border between us, but we together one simple Love.


So we get back to the campground and fire up the Coleman stove and I get out the box of Hamburger Helper to throw together a quick late supper. As I turn over the box to read the directions what are the first words my eye finds? "Topping suggestions"!!!&ltg>