Wishful Thinking

Not my stop-I have to keep peddling. Maybe up to Flat Bottom. Will go out of my way to avoid Saggy Bottom.

A Walk in the Woods

I caught up with her on a flat switch-back before the trail stretched up over the top of the hill. She wasn’t even breathing heavy when I got there but it would take me a few moments to recover before we continued on. It was warming up a tad and I could feel it. A series of unforeseen events that morning had brought us to the trail later than we had planned.

The first had been her waking up on her belly with the sheet draped across her thighs. I couldn’t help myself. Awakening slowly she writhed gently to the first touches between her cheeks then yelped and rolled over when I bit her full on the left cheek. After a few kisses she play-struggled when I wrestled her back to her belly which was my excuse to pin her down and use the bedside paddle (doesn’t everyone have one?) for a quick few swats which turned into a few more back and forth which then turned into a long, luxurious Saturday morning coupling.

So yes, we were late hitting the trail but it was still well before noon. The morning’s sex-buzz wasn’t entirely gone and watching her bottom on the trail before she completely outpaced me kept it smoldering. Standing on the flat my eyes scanned the saplings on the uphill side. An idea was born. She followed my eyes but didn’t see what I did.

“What?” she asked.

“You know, I think you could use a good switching.”

“You really think so?” She asked in a faux stick-out-your-bottom-lip petulance.

“I’m pretty sure of it.”

“I do try to be good…”

“I know you do girl. We just have to keep working at it…”

Her eyes washed over the area. “Hmmmm”, she said thoughtfully. Then, “What must I do?” she asked quietly but precisely.

“Here”, I took her by the arm and led her to the edge of the trail. “Face the tree…”

She did and I patted her bottom; firm through her jeans. “These will have to come down.”

“Really, Sir? I’ll be embarrassed…” She looked at me over her shoulder and even in the shadows of the trees I could see the tiny smile playing at the corner of her mouth and the color rising in her cheeks.

“I’m afraid so, Miss…” I stood back to watch her unbelt, unsnap and wriggle them down. She stood for a moment running her hands up the backs of her legs then over the black briefs which sheathed her bottom before slipping her thumbs into the elastic and slipping them down. Her bum was still a tiny bit pink from the paddle that morning.

She stood, a picture of docile submission, as I arranged myself in the front so I could walk over to the saplings. I wanted the right combination of stout and whippy-at least I thought so. Not much of a switch guy, but how hard could it be? My trusty Leatherman shook in my hands as I cut a couple of likely looking branches.

With three in hand I stepped beside her and patted her lightly. “Stick it out a little for me.”

She did and I took measure as best I could then flicked with my wrist hearing it swipe high across her bottom. She didn’t react immediately then looked up into the trees as if bored. “Was that the wind? I thought I felt a breeze.” She said.

“Cute”, I said stepping back to get more swing. “Here’s number two.”

The switch cut the air and landed full across both cheeks wrapping around to nip at her right hip. She didn’t move.

“Nothing?” I asked.

“That was a little better. You’re getting there. Maybe by nightfall you’ll get the hang of it.”

I grumpily tossed the switch away and picked up another. She’s a bit of a caniac so I needn’t have been so careful. The second stick felt better in my hand and really whipped when I cut the air to loosen my arm. She heard it too and gripped the tree tighter.

The switch whistled through the sun dappled air and bisected her bottom perfectly, raising the bloom of a tiny strawberry in the middle of her right cheek. She hissed between her teeth and lifted her eyes skyward.

“There it is”, she sighed lushly and thrust her target backward.

I was too busy admiring my handiwork and preparing for the next stroke to hear the voices coming down the trail from above. I froze as they got louder and looked up but couldn’t see anyone yet. In the instant it took me to look back to my wife, her pants were up and she was zipping feverishly as she jogged back the way we came trailing peals of laughter behind.

Damn! I reluctantly tossed the switch aside and hobbled after her-my third leg hindering a clean escape.

 

Shhh….

Don’t move. I think he sees us….

The Trackers

Despite the chill, sweat from under his hat ran down the back of his neck.

Where’d he git to?

Shhh…you hear anything?

Leaves’re too wet. Can’t hear shit.

Maybe up on the ridge there-to the right?

Over the high point?

You think?

Don’t see him climbing. Thinkin’ straight up the creek.

That’s funny.

What?

Cellphone buzzes softly

It’s Carole.

Christ, don’t answer it!

I’m not a fuckin’ idiot!

She leave a message?

No.

Let’s just keep up this way…

Never been this far back.

Woods’re woods.

He adjusted his holster and they slogged deeper into the hollow.

 

Wanderings

“As long as there’s such a thing as time, everybody’s damaged in the end, changed into something else. It always happens sooner or later…But if it happens, you’ve got to have a place you can retrace your steps to…”

Haruki Murakami – “Kafka On The Shore”

The Well Worn Path

While it’s safe to say we all enjoy taking the road less traveled and venturing into the woods there are times when the well-worn path is a necessary detour.