A Halloween Tail…


I thought I’d found another faerie keyhole. I really did. But this one was larger-and higher off the ground. Not exactly-well, not at all-sized for me, but fascinating. It didn’t strike me right away that I’d never seen it before and I was in these woods often. Usually around now-late morning or early afternoon when the sun is high and night is far enough ahead and behind to not have to worry.

There was this one time, after I broke up with Nina, that I came up into the Hollow after work with my PJ’s (pint of liquor and joints) and got blissfully, forgetfully high leaning against a large sycamore not too far from that spot. It was a sweet respite from the shitty week until I fell asleep-which would have been OK had I awakened before the sun fell behind the ridge. But I didn’t. I opened my eyes to the first hoots of a great horned owl that I could see a few trees over. His calls were answered by another behind me, then another deeper in the woods. Of course I assumed they were calling out the whereabouts of the trespasser and, on cue three bats flicked above me chasing mosquitoes or checking out the fool who was in the Hollow at dusk.

Then there was one, then another…and I swear a third, rustle in the leaves behind me. I pressed hard against the tree and judged the slope of the hill in front of me. Two things I didn’t want: one, to look behind me and see what was rustling; two, to wait for them to get any closer. I count 1-2-3! bolt upright and go flying down the hill. Behind me a rush of wind-I could feel it-passed me and rattled the branches above. Too busy running, I couldn’t be sure.

There was one glorious fall as I careened my way to the hollow floor. A root-if that’s what it was-grabbed my right foot and, airborne, I watched the ground slip by until, tucking and rolling, I hit the slope and didn’t miss a step-back up and running. I was deep enough into the woods that I had to cross the stream three times as it meandered through the valley which I did in leaps, bounds and splashes stumbling once into the water but churning and digging my way out. I wasn’t in shape to run that far, that fast but I didn’t slow down until I passed the ruins-those old stone foundations and garden walls-from the little village that had disappeared up there ages ago.

But I’m finally out of the woods and calming down and I come across this girl walking toward me on the trail. Loose shorts, work boots, bright pink hair cut in a….page boy thing…


Yeah, that’s why I thought she was a kid and was about to tell her it was late to be out there when she said “Hi.” Then I saw she wasn’t a child. Not old, but not a child. Maybe our age. Thought it was weird being as late as it was getting. She looked at the mud and water all over me-I’m sweating like an animal- and said, “Some hike huh?” and kept going. She wasn’t waiting for an answer-just saying it.

The next day, I blew it all off to the superior ganja that Shorty had sold me. Aquaponic this and that, whatever. You don’t want to get him talking about his growing methods unless you have an hour. But I’ll give him this: it had me seeing ghosts. Shorty loved that story, took to calling his weed “Casper”.

But that wasn’t on my mind as I circled the tree, trying to judge the size of the opening. Still not my size…but interesting. And it looked like a…narrow at the top and bottom-widening in the middle…like this? It definitely did. What would happen if I boosted a child through it? Or a small woman…it was high enough off the ground that someone small enough to slip through couldn’t reach it. From uphill and downhill, it was the same. The tree bark was tree bark-everything cool and rough to the touch.

From the uphill side the opening was a little better than chest high. I ran my hands along the inside walls then through to the other side. Realizing I’d been holding my breath, I exhaled heavily. Idiot! Nothing. Quickly, I turned and looked up slope behind. Had I heard something? No doubt-in the woods in the fall with the dead leaves, the squirrels, the chipmunks, the deer, the freaking turkeys, you’re always going to hear something. Nothing there but the trees-silent sentinels swaying slightly and contentedly in the here and there breezes.

I put both hands on the sides of the tapered opening. I don’t know what possessed me to think I could fit myself through there. Really, something got me to thinking I just needed to boost myself and get sideways into the widest part. I pulled myself up, scrambling at the tree trunk with my feet. I didn’t have to get too high. First my left arm was through, then my shoulder then-with a struggle and push-my head, knocked my hat off and it falls to the ground on the other side. At least my hat made it across.

Then, I tried to push my right arm through when…listen-I’ve been over this in my mind a lot and know what it sounds like-then the tree tightened around me. I know. But it did. I thought like maybe I had slipped down into the narrow part of the opening-I’m sure I did. Probably. But that fucker tightened around me like a headlock and I was stuck. Just stuck with my left arm, shoulder and head through and my right grabbing and pushing at the tree. I could stand on my toes, so it wasn’t like I was hanging there, but I was freaking hanging there.

Then, just when I knew I couldn’t move, the light began to dim. Like it was getting dark only that shouldn’t be happening for six hours or so. Maybe I was passing out-I was stuck tight but could still breathe. I wasn’t passing out. But then there were the owls-first one, then the other then the other deeper in the woods. Then I remembered that evening from a couple of months before. I’m pushing against the tree with my right hand-trying to yank back with my head-sweating and it’s getting darker! Fast. I could twist and see the sky above the hill and there were stars. And the moon, this bright white crescent behind some clouds that threw enough light that I could see by. Barely. And that’s another thing-there was a daytime moon that day- almost full. This wasn’t right.

“Were there bats this time?”

Don’t know. It was a struggle to look up but I’m pushing and pulling-then I hear it. Them. Those rustles coming down the hill behind me. Sounded like I sound, like people, coming down the hill crushing and kicking the leaves. Don’t know how many-but more than a couple. A lot. Nothing was touching me…not then, but I felt them pushing in. Like to get a better look.  It was windy too-so there was crackling and rustling all over. This time I did try to look back-to spin my head, but all I could see was tree. And ahead of me, the hillside was pretty much swallowed up by the night-just the moonlight shining silver in and out.

Then I heard the voice. “What have we here…?” it whispered. That’s what I think it said anyway. It was mostly wind, the voice I mean. It sounded like wind. But when it spoke, the rustling stopped. And the wind in the trees died. But I could feel something behind me. A lot of somethings. Not breathing so much, as just there.

“I’m sorry.” I said to them.  “Excuse me…can you help me maybe? I’m…..I’m stuck…”

I said this and I heard this tittering and rustling-but not the leaves this time-a rustling in the air around me, like someone shaking things. I don’t know. So I reach back with my free hand, to grab or feel whoever it is and of course, there’s nothing. But then-CLAMP-something grabs my arm. Right here at the wrist. Tight. It’s a soft grip-but hard. I mean, I can’t shake loose but it’s not breaking my bones. It feels hot-but cold. I know, it doesn’t make sense but before I can think of anything else-YANK-whatever it was pulls my arm around the tree to the front and ties it to my left. Ties my hands together-but I can see, right? I’m looking there-I see both hands-don’t see anyone holding me. Then I feel the rope-or leather or whatever-tying me wrist over wrist. Can feel it, but I can’t see anything!

So I ask again-can they help me, I’m stuck. Then she says…

“It’s a woman, then?”

I don’t really know. It’s…something. It’s strong so maybe not. But it sounds…light maybe? Small? Whatever it is, says, “Trying to go someplace you shouldn’t?”

I start talking fast-to the wind for Chrissakes-apologizing, saying I was just checking it out. I knew about these fairy keyholes, my grandma…I’m going through this whole thing just babbling and it says-clearer now-“That’s worse. You know what this is and you were trying to get through. You were trespassing.”

No, really, I told her. I was just curious…I’m trying to explain. And she says, it’s a whisper cause she’s right at my ear, “Trespassers must be punished.”

Then there is all the tittering again and it sounds like a windstorm kicking up behind me, though none of the trees I see are moving. And these…hands are all over me and the one that was talking-I’m sure-wraps around me and undoes my belt. Then my zipper then all these things are yanking and pulling and my pants, then my underwear then everything is down around my ankles. The cool air hits my ass-these things are all tittering…I don’t know. Laughing I’m thinking. I panicked a little. Yanking-trying to get loose, yelling at them to stop…Then the whipping starts.


No, no…in the air. Don’t worry, that’s coming, but for now this whipping sound, this whirring sound in the air, which I figure out, just before it becomes obvious, are sticks, you know, tree branches…


Yeah, switches! So hearing these whipping sounds I get what’s coming and try to scream-to yell for help. I open my mouth and PLOP she jams something in it. Felt like a rag-but nicer. Probably a scarf, I thought then. I can’t yell. Can’t say a word. But I’m thinking, no-no…don’t do this. Thinking it. Thinking no, no. Then the whipping starts-and not in the air this time.

The first crack across my ass burned like fire and I tried to jump but something-they-had my legs. There was no moving-I was pinned there, bare ass to the hillside taking this whipping! There were-I don’t know how many of them and they were all getting cracks-across my ass, from both sides, up and down my legs. Jesus, it hurt. They pulled my legs apart-way apart-and whipped between them…I was yelling and screaming-but nobody could hear with my mouth plugged. All I could do was bite down on the scarf I couldn’t see, squeeze my butt as best I could and wait it out.

“Did you cry?”

I don’t…think so. I don’t know. Here’s the weird part.

“There’s a weirder part?”

It hurt like hell…then…it hurt bad…then…then it started hurting less. They were still hitting-they didn’t let up- but it started to feel like…grass or like whips made of yarn…or…feathers…


Something. But it didn’t burn anymore. It didn’t hurt as much. I’m still saying no, no but they kept at it-and it was this flicking now. Not painful, but not tickling either. But it felt….hmmm…

“Go on.”

Well, then they trail off, there’s not as many hitting me. They stop one at a time…until there is only her. Then she stops. But she’s still there.  I felt this leathery grip again. It had to be a hand in a glove, the way it felt. It was small but strong. And it was on my cock which sometime during my whipping had pulled itself away from my leg like a periscope wanting a better look.


Like they say. Chinese algebra. Banging against the tree trunk.

The voice says, “Your mouth says no. Maybe your head says no. Your heart says no. But this, what does this say Mr. No?” Squeezing me she says “How do you explain this, Mr. No?”

And I couldn’t! What could I say? She held it…she was pulling at it…stroking it. And all these others had their hands or whatevers on me-pushing and rubbing all up and down my butt and legs-between my legs-she was behind me again, but still in front of me pulling and stroking…I was tensing again but not from the whipping…I could feel what was coming.

“Have you learned your lesson, Mr. No?” she whispers. I’m saying yes, but in case she can’t hear I’m nodding fast. “You will not trespass again?” I’m shaking my head side to side hard but Jesus, I’m going to cum. I know I’m going to cum-she or someone grabs my balls from underneath-and I’m losing whatever train of thought she wants me on…”We have one final reminder-for you to take with you…”

Whatever, I’m thinking cause I’m about to blow then, SMACK, she-someone-smacks me right on the ass. SMACK-the hardest swat of the whole thing. My butt’s back to burning like fire but I couldn’t feel it long because I’m going numb from my feet up turning to ice getting set to shoot this load…

“Shhh…not so loud…”

I squeeze my eyes shut so it’s darker than dark and Ba-Boom! I saw stars-golden stars with trails! Never have I…I’m thrusting, bucking, she’s yanking…then I’m falling…I could feel myself screaming more than hear it. The shock of the fall knocked the wind out of me. I might have been knocked out. I’ve been knocked out before-and I’m never sure afterwards if I was out, how long, any of that. I relied on other to fill in those blanks. So I don’t know. What I do know, when I open my eyes its back to being daylight-sunshine, blue sky, I’m looking at the pretty white clouds, all the daytime birds.

My pants were around my ankles and I could feel the dead leaves and twigs of the forest floor poking at my backside and filling up in my crack. And my ass is sore…Without lifting my head I could see where I had painted the tree trunk up and down and all over the leaves. I never came that much in my life! My dick, embarrassed to be caught out in the light of day, was turtling, trying to crawl between my legs.

It strikes me there could be other folks in the woods so I jump up, and I’m wobbly but brush myself off. My ass was sore-I go to brush it and had to stop. Couldn’t see back there, but could feel welts. Damn. And I was shaky, my shoulder hurt-I was stuck in that goddam hole for who knows how long. I just got the hell out of there. Not running-but not wasting time.

Then, I get down to the bottom, cross the streams and am walking by the ruins and I see her again.


That girl that I saw the other time.

“I thought she was a pot-vision.”

I guess not, because there she was-she was on the other side of the ruins-where there’s another trail but not far. I can see her, I know it’s her. Same kind of shorts and work boots…looks like a denim top-maybe even hand-made. She’s got the same kind of hair cut but its robin egg blue now and I almost missed it because she was wearing a hat. And I look…it’s my hat! I put my hand on my head like this-like a moron-I lost my hat up through the tree. She’s wearing it! She stops and waves, say, “How was your hike Mr. No?”


That’s what I heard. I fucking freeze! My face goes cold and I’m standing there with my mouth open like a fucking bird house. What did you say, I asked?

“How was your hike? How far did you go?”

I babbled something about not far, just up the stream a little. She’s smiling and I see a scarf around her neck. She’s wearing a scarf and I gulped. If I went over to her, would it be wet?

“You didn’t though, did you?”

No way. I picked up the pace, let me tell you. I wanted the hell out of there!

“Did you go back up?”

Sure, couple days later. Just to see if my hat was still there. But no. No hat. No keyhole either. It was gone. The tree was still there…least I think it was the tree. But there was no opening-not in that tree or any around there.

“And your butt?”

It was pretty marked up when I got home and looked in the mirror. Bruises and welts-sore for a couple of days, but then they faded. Except for the one…


That one swat-at the end. It left a mark-like a little handprint….It’s still there.


Yeah. Like a tattoo. I’m wondering if it’s there forever.

“I gotta see that.”




“Maybe somewhere more private. I’m only a couple of blocks up.”

I waved the waitress over.

(Continued…“Venus and Mars Are Alright Tonight…”)

The Boys Like It!


Continued from The Boys Plus One

Frankie unbuttoned his jeans-again-and this time let them fall into a pile around his ankles. The cool of the clearing on his bare legs alone would have been enough to excite him but the thought of what was happening-and he couldn’t help but to internally narrate-quickened his breath. Liz paid close attention to the deceptive curve of his bottom pushing against the navy blue briefs peeking out from under his shirttail. He was a slight kid but rounded at the bottom like John had been at his age. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly and her cheeks flushed as she pushed him gently forward. “Let’s get your hands on the wall there….” she said as he bent.

Behind them Bob leaned against a tree after moving to a better position to see both Liz’s face and Frankie’s butt. He made the choice to slouch with his hands in his pockets as if they could somehow obscure the pulsing erection crawling down his leg. Everybody in the clearing was winding themselves into a bit of a sexual tizzy except for Chloe who lay in the brambles with her back to the humans resting; with one eye on a tree that, she was pretty sure, held a squirrel.

Liz was careful to use her hands and make as much contact with Frankie’s bottom as possible. She made a production-almost a massage-of running her hands up his hamstrings and across his briefs to lift and drape his shirttail over his back. Then, like Vanna White framing a letter, she slid her hands across his backside before hooking her fingers in the elastic band of his underwear and drawing them ever so slowly down. She had to reach around the front to pop them over his rock-hard cock. His breath quickened audibly during the full ten-count it took to get them all the way off his cheeks. She slid her hand between his legs and upward feeling, touching, weighing and squeezing. With a pat, she reached for a switch.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Oh yes” he hissed arching his back immodestly.

She flicked him across both cheeks with a snap of her wrist. “Ahhh”, he moaned as a thin pink stripe appeared almost instantly. She recognized the moan as being less about pain than about having an unreachable itch finally scratched. She scratched that itch again, then again in quick succession careful to not hit too hard. This wasn’t that kind of switching and as far as she could tell, Frankie wasn’t that sort of bottom. He broke silence around the twelfth cut and mewed through gritted teeth until she broke the end off of the branch. She paused to choose another, copping a quick glance at Bob. He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other and Liz couldn’t quickly surmise whose place he would like to take: Frank’s or hers’. She’d figure that out in a moment.

With another switch chosen and in her left hand she ran her right across the ridges on his bum. They were pink and tight but nothing showing purple. He flinched at her touch and pushed backward like a cat wanting scratched.

“Oh, you like this little respite, do you? This little rub…”

“Yes”, he said breathlessly. “Very much.” She dropped the switch and slid her left hand across his hip and around to his front where his rod continued to stand strong, hard and firm as a flag pole. He jumped when she touched it.

“You are so bad….” She whispered into his ear.

“The worst…” he whispered back.

“Here”, she placed her cock-hand on his chest never moving the right from his bottom, “Stand up.”

He did and she cupped his soft cheeks. “Hold your shirt up so I can spank you…”


He did as he was told and she began slapping his bare bottom. She alternated soft then hard, right cheek then left, high then low-catching some thigh. “Don’t tense”, she hissed as she smacked on, cupping his rump’s warm softness.  She moved her hand down his chest and brushed, then gripped, his cock firmly bringing forth another low moan. She stroked slowly trying to catch the rhythm of her spanks-which really wasn’t easy and she never quite got it right-but it was good enough for Frank. He pushed backward slightly then began to rock as if to welcome her open palm more quickly while at the same time lengthening her strokes up front.

His right hand moved from his shirt to cover hers on his dick and directed more crispness into her technique. She heard a soft growl start deeply in his chest which quickly morphed into a whimper as he whacked harder, yanking her arm like a pump handle. His butt began to tense until she felt she was spanking a football. She stopped slapping and rubbed his firm cheeks trying to insert a finger into what had become a tight, impenetrable seam. “Do it Frankie”, she seethed. “Go for it!”

Suddenly with a bark, a growl and a thrust up onto his tiptoes she heard him spatter all over the leaves in front of him and on the ground. “ohjesusohjesusohjesus”, he gasped.

“There, there…” she cooed, slowly and tightly finishing him off and wringing him out. He released his hand from his shrinking but still pulsing cock and she did the same. Frankie sagged familiarly into her and she put her arm around his shoulders while his breathing came back. “I’d say that worked for you…” she said.

“I would say so.”

“Good. Alright then”, Liz said with a little pat on his butt. “Get those pants back up.” She turned away and pulled a bandana out of her back pocket to wipe her hand. She thought she had some sanitary wipes back in the car. Frank was flushed and moving as if underwater but he looked contented enough with a sheepish little smile as he fastened his belt. Liz stretched pointedly to pick a larger switch off of the pile-it was the best of the lot and would pack enough of a sting that she didn’t want to use it on Frank. She whipped the air once and pointed it at Bob. “Your turn big boy.”

“What? Me….No….” He actually threw up his hands and waved the thought away.

“No?” she asked.

“I don’t do that….I mean-I give. He takes.”

“You’re a top, is what you mean.”

“What’s that?”

“Tops give. Bottoms take.”

“That’s right then. Yes. I’m a top.”

“Hmmm…Is that right Frank? Is Bob a top?”

“He is around me, for sure…I’ve never…done anything to him.”


Frank shook his head. “Nope.”

“Well”, said Liz, stroking her chin. “That doesn’t seem fair does it?”

“Not to me”, said Frank a little too brightly.

“Well, Jeez…”Bob sputtered.

Liz fixed him with an eye. “I think you should get over here and bend over for me, boy. You might think you’re a top, but I’m the real deal. You should get a taste of the real thing when you can.” She rose into the role and affected the no-nonsense school teacher pose tapping the switch into the palm of her left hand. Then, when Frank continued to hesitate, she said softly “You really don’t want to miss out on this do you?”

“No”, said Frank to his roommate, “You don’t.”

Making his mind up in a rush Bob took two steps toward the wall when Chloe suddenly jumped up from her nap and barked at the hillside from which Liz and she had come.

“Uh oh”, Liz said. “Company.” They could hear female voices over the hill talking; too far away to be understood but coming closer. Bob was frozen in mid-step not knowing whether he was relieved or disappointed. “You know”, Liz looked at him wickedly. “We could just continue…really give them a show when they show up. Like I almost got.”

“Oh, no…that’s OK…” Again there was that nervous hand waving again. He was too big and too good-looking to be tossing his hands around like this. She looked at him closely, flushed and uncertain; ready to try something that he’d never done and, judging by the bulge in his pants, looking forward to it.

“You boys live on campus or off?” They didn’t answer quickly. “You’re students right?”

“Off campus”, Frank told her. “Just uptown.” He gave her the address.

“That’s near the falafel place isn’t it?”

“Middle of the block and across the street.”

She crowded Bob, assessing his size and searching his eyes for any kind of STOP signal. The vein in his neck pulsed quickly and his breath was coming in swallow swallows. She handed him the switch. “Take this home with you. I’m going to drop off Chloe there and be over. You be ready.”

“OK”, he said softly.

Her hand snapped like a cobra and grabbed his earlobe giving it a tug. “What?”

“Oww,” he grimaced surprised. “Yes Mam.”

“Good.” She smiled releasing him and turning quickly. “I’ll see you boys soon. Come on Chloe. Heel Pup.”

The puppy loped over and fell into line behind her as they headed down the trail.

To be continued….

The Boys Plus One


Continued from The Boys and Angie’s Workout….

The trail along this, the Western side of the hill, is a series of switchbacks cutting back and forth-a twisting serpent crawling toward the sunlight leaking over the trees at the summit. This morning, the man hadn’t summited. He had taken what he called his “vertical constitutional” and turned back about two thirds to the top. He didn’t have time to go all the way up today, nor the energy.

About halfway down he noticed the two kids heading up. Relative term; to him kids could be anyone under 30 but he judged these, from two switches away, to be a boy and a girl. Two more turns and he was able to correct himself “Hello boys”, he greeted as he stepped aside and uphill on the slender trail so they could pass.

“Morning”, said the slighter of the two who was in the lead. “Hey”, nodded the second, the taller and burlier. They were head down-seemingly determined to reach the top-and not interested in talking. “It’s all yours up there boys”, he called over his shoulder. There’s nobody up there but squirrels..”

“What did he mean by that?” Frank whispered back to Bob.

“Relax. Just a duffer talking. Just saying there is nobody up there.”

Relax…sure, thought Frank. Easy for him to say. He sipped nervously at the water bottle he carried but he wasn’t really thirsty-or rather it wasn’t the climb that was drying his mouth. It was what was going to happen at the top of the hill that had the butterflies rising in his chest.

The boys had spent as much time trying to make their spanking game appear-or feel, if only to themselves-spontaneous. Unplanned for sure. Something that happened organically. Just horseplay talking a turn. There were a couple more forced wrestling matches that ended the same way the first one had-with Frank on the bottom getting his ass slapped. Then they moved into card games, which Frank always managed to lose. The penalty-the lost bet-always played out in some variation of the same theme: smacks on the butt, swats with a wooden spoon with Frank leaning against the wall in the kitchen or a yardstick that stung like hell through nylon sweat pants as Frank lay over the back of the couch.

Then, just last week, he came back to the apartment to find Bob leafing through “Appalachian Folklore” book he had used for the paper. “So”, Bob asked, “What do you think about that witch’s caning?”

The fact is Frank had not been able to get the idea of the witch’s caning out of his mind since he had read it. He studiously avoided including anything of it in the paper he had turned in-and got a B on-but the idea of a caning in the raw openness of a clearing in the woods excited him. Of course all he had to do was mention it to Bob once and the plans were made.

As promised, at the top of the hill was a ruined stone wall-a remnant of a garden wall from a hundred years before. Whatever else was here had been retaken by the thick woods around them.

Frankie’s fingers shook slightly as he cut what he thought were acceptable switches. Bob was on the other side of the clearing cutting others-they would choose the best ones. Even though they had reasonably decided that thorned branches might be appropriate for a witch’s bare bottom they might be a little much for his-these were going to hurt. At least sting…He was counting on Bob not to hurt him. Well, at least too much.

They met at the wall. “Are you ready to do this?”

In answer Frankie turned his back to face the low rock wall. He took a few steps closer to it so he could bend right over-hands on its’ top. Bob, the thickening in his crotch expanding into a full shaft erection moving down his leg (How quickly that happened!) stepped to his left and measured his swing.  Frank, about to free his own stiffening hard-on to the morning air took a deep breath to settle his fluttering heart while he unfastened his belt and unsnapped his jeans. He was standing thusly, unzipped and ready to lower, when in a rush of crackling leaves and snapping twigs, a large dog burst through the brambles to their right.

It was an Irish Setter-a big puppy actually-loping and jumping around the clearing happily ignoring them sniffing and pawing at everything striking his fancy. The boys were frozen in place watching him as a tall blonde woman in followed the dog out of the brambles. “Dammit, Chloe”, she said with a laugh, “Would you slow down a little bit…” She froze when she saw the boys not three paces away. “Oh-good morning,” she said. “Sorry about Chloe-I thought we were alone up here.”

Frank froze. If he removed his hands from his pants, the belt would pull them straight to the ground leaving him standing there in his underwear. If he zipped up and snapped himself closed…the implications would be obvious. Bob, for his part, let his arm fall to his side and opened his hand so the switch could fall unobtrusively, he thought, to the ground. “No…” he stammered moving away. “No problem…Chloe, you say? Nice puppy.” The dog, no longer on-site, was happily bounding through the brush on the other side of the clearing.

Two long strides put Liz in the middle of the tableau. She registered the smaller guy, back turned, pants coming up or going down. Whether he had moved off or not, she saw where the other guy had been standing when she got there. And there was a pile of sticks and switches on the ground which she regarded carefully, stroking her chin theatrically. She felt as if she had walked onto the stage in the middle of a play she had written.

“He must have been very bad”, she said looking up from the ground breaking the nervous silence.

Frank shifted nervously and opted to button his jeans so he wouldn’t have to hold them. Bob who was looking hopefully away for the distraction of the puppy half turned back to face the woman. Neither boy seemed to remember how to talk. “Well?” Liz asked. “Very bad?”

Frank had zipped his jeans and was now turned looking at her. She was taller than he was-about as tall as Bob-wearing snug jeans, hiking boots, fancy $120 wicking shirt turned up and buttoned at the forearms topped by a nylon ballcap out of which her blonde ponytail hung in the back. He recovered his voice first.

“Somewhat bad”, he almost whispered.

“Somewhat? A switching is pretty severe for ‘somewhat bad’, don’t you think?” There was a hint of a smile on her lips and Frankie saw a glint in her eyes that he recognized as a reflection of his own feelings. “Not my rules”, he said.

“So”, she addressed Bob. “This is your doing…”

“Not entirely”, he said fumbling-as if he really owed anyone an explanation.

“Have you ever used a switch before? Either of you?”

“No”, Bob answered.

“I can tell by the pile of twigs you’ve put together here.” She bent to pick through them and Frank could positively not stop himself from stealing a look at her bottom. Seemingly obliviously, she shifted her backside slightly toward him while picking a few good switches from the pile.

“These ones are fine”, she said testing them through the air once after the other. “Some are passable. You there, big guy, what’s your name?”

“Bob”, he said. “Bob Wil…..” and bit his tongue before giving his last name.

“That’s OK”, she said. “I don’t need your last name or your social security number…You”, she tapped Frank on the bottom with the switch she was holding. “Who are you?”

“Frank. Frankie.”

“Hmmm…OK. Here’s what I’m thinking. You guys-you in particular” pointing the branch at Bob “don’t know much about the how’s of switching, right?”

“Never done it”, said Bob.

“Exactly”, she said.  “I have. And I’m good at it…So what I’m thinking is that I should take over here. I’ll take the switches to Frankie here-as a kind of tutorial. You can see how it’s done so you’re not fumbling around in the woods with twigs that won’t do the job.”

Chloe bounded back into the clearing and over to Liz, panting, her red coat full of burs that Angie would have to spend the rest of the afternoon brushing out. “Good girl-good Chloe….Go lay down now…take a rest…let us know if anyone’s coming….” As if understanding the command, the dog moved to the edge of the clearing and crashed. “So”, she said turning back to Frankie.

“OK” said Frankie.

“OK then”, Liz said. “Turn around and take down your pants young man.”

His cock stiffened at the words.

To be continued….