Saturday, June 17, 2006

 

Every Picture Tells A Story

The lovely and talented Patty from The Creative Spanko Wench (a somewhat misnamed blog in my humble opinion ... she is a spanko and she is certainly extremely creative, but I think the wench label is misleading ... minx would probably be more accurate) has posted one of her exquisite drawings of a lovely nude lady arching her back in what appears to be contentment whilst occupying the outdoors. Patty challenged her readers to invent a story to go with the picture. I was not able to come up with a good fictional accounting, but the art work did cause me to recall a rather interesting situation that Angela and I found ourselves in several years ago. Since this blog is fictional, I believe that this recounting will suffice.

When the children were still little ones, Angela and I had dropped them off for a festive weekend with her parents (who, at the beginning of the weekend were excited to spend time wonderful grandchildren, and at the end of the weekend were so frazzled that they still haven't forgiven us) and taken off to spend a couple of days of communing with nature, if you know what I mean. I had a friend who owned some land in a remote area up north a little ways. It was a wooded parcel that he used for hunting in the fall. Since this was July, there were plenty of deer in the woods and no firearms.

We hiked into the woods a considerable distance, and then stopped for a nice spanking (there are priorities in life, you know). When we were both sufficiently warmed, we resumed our hike until we discovered a clearing. At this point, we pitched our small tent and proceeded to get naked. There is nothing like feeling a warm breeze, and ones loving spouse, caressing ones genitals. After caressing ones genitals for a considerable amount of time, we proceeded to get down to some serious spanking. Angela had cleverly stowed several fine objects de spank in our backpacks, and we figured there was no one around for miles. We spend the rest of the afternoon discovering a number of different ways to deliver succulent swats to each others fundaments (thank you kind reader for that term).

As the sun began to wane, we made a campfire and cooked ourselves some dinner. Still lacking clothing of any sort, we used the fire warm our buns in a different way. Then we doused our fire, retired to our tent, snuggled up nicely in our two-person sleeping bag (actually two sleeping bags zipped into one), and spend the rest of the night making sweet love and snoozing.

I awoke just after sunrise. Angela was still dozing, so I donned a pair of shorts and some sandals and went out to wander in the woods. I was enjoying the mild morning air and the perfectly clear sky, so I lost track of time and was gone for perhaps an hour. I had started to make my way back to camp. All of a sudden, I heard shouted, loudly, clearly, and urgently, one word:

"FRANCIS!"

Now, my dear wife almost never uses the formal version of my given name. She only uses it when she is very, very mad, or when feigning anger while preparing me for a paddling. Since we were not within spanking distance, I assumed the former was true, and began to hurry back to the campsite. As I was arriving, I realized what was the subject of her call.

There was Angela, the dear girl, laying naked on a blanket next to our now-extinguished camp fire. Standing in a semi-circle on one side of our campsite were about a dozen children, probably aged between 5 and 7 or so. They were quite still, gawking at my lovely wife and her somewhat purpling posterior, the result of our previous days recreational activities. Angela's face had a look of abject terror and seething rage on it.

"Where the fuck did these kids come from?" Angela exclaimed to me, somewhat rhetorically.

I decided it was best if I took charge of the situation, lest Angela offend the young ears further. "Angela, my dear," I responded, "Perhaps you should wrap yourself in that blanket and retire into the tent." In her shock, she had frozen in place, so she was still pretty much completely exposed. At my suggestion, she realized her unclothed state and quickly complied. The children began to giggle.

At that point, an adult couple and four or five more youngsters came upon our campsite. The couple looked confused, as was I at the appearance of them and their herd of tikes. Fortunately, the couple, who turned out to be quite nice, had not seen Angela in her birthday suit, so they were happy to provide me with an explanation.

Apparently, the parcel of land owned by my friend was adjacent to some property owned by the county and used as a nature preserve. In our hiking the previous day, we had wandered too far and left my friend's land. The clearing that we were camping on was actually on the preserve. The group of children was associated with a local church and were on an early-morning nature walk. The couple were employed by the county and were, on this day, acting as guides for the group.

Even though we were trespassing on their land, they were very understanding and offered to let us continue to camp where we were, provided we showed proper respect for nature. At about this time, Angela emerged from the tent and indicated that we had just planned to camp overnight (although this was not the plan) and would be leaving soon.

Later, I was able to ask Angela why she happened to be laying outside of the tent au natural. She said that when she woke, she found that I was not there and went out to see if she could find me. Since the air was so pleasant and felt so sensuous on her bare skin, she decided to lay under the sky and enjoy the climate for a few minutes. She had dozed off, and was likely wakened by hearing the approach of the group of children. Not seeing them right away, she as laying on her stomach and languorously stretching by pushing herself up onto her arms. It was a that point that she noticed the gaggle of boys and girls staring at her, and called for me.

We bade farewell to the nature walkers, made a quick breakfast, cleaned up our campsite, and hiked out of the woods. During the walk back, I attempted to make light of the unfortunate event by pointing out that the youngsters were given a rare treat by seeing the naked repose of a beautiful woman. Unfortunately for me, my brilliant wife was having none of it and was very quiet the entire way home.

When we arrived home, Angela sent me to the guest house and told me that I was going to be punished severely for subjecting her to the gawking kiddies. I begged to protest, but since it was my friend who allowed us use of the land, in her opinion the entire affair was my fault. So I paid the penalty. I was stripped down, secured to a piece of furniture, and beaten about the buttocks with a variety of flat, wooden, spanking implements for the rest of the day. And, of course, I enjoyed every minute of it.

We neglected to tell Angela's parents that we had cut our camping trip short, so after my beating we went out for a nice, late dinner and then laid in bed the rest of the evening.

Angela has since forgiven me for subjecting her to such an embarrassment, even though I had been assured that there would be no people around for miles. So, naturally, I remind her about it from time to time when I want to embarrass her, or when I'm angling for a paddling. And, even though I get to gaze upon my lover's naked flesh regularly, I envy those youngster for the glance that were blessed with. My wife has a body that is simply fantastic.

Comments:
thank you frank... *g* your entry has been added ....
 
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