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“Oh, no.” I shook my head and backed away.
He ignored my apprehensions, put his hand firmly at my back and pushed me out the door.
After a quick explanation of what I didn’t want to do while on his bike, I climbed on after him, settling in to the comfort of his firm ass. Holding him around the waist, I tucked my face to the smooth of his leather jacket; just the smell made me want to claw for his cock. That being impossible, I let the aroma soothe me as we took off through the city, riding a reckless path through unfamiliar streets—riding nearly an hour toward the west until we broke into the open spaces.
“Where are we going?” It took that long to get up my courage to shout the question. KC answered but I couldn’t hear the words as the wind ate them with its blistering bite. As the day warmed, so did my spirit and I began to relax, feeling almost human again by the time we pulled into a State Park where we finally stopped the bike for good.
“Not bad for a novice,” he said as he watched my shaky body pull off the Harley.
“Sure, and I suppose I have to go back the same way?”
He snickered playfully, “Unless you want to walk.”
We went to the woods, hiking to a small clearing where I watched KC hunt through a stand of young trees for a sapling branch the size he wanted.
“You’re going to use it on me, aren’t you?”
&nb
sp; “Uh, huh? Any problem with that?”
“No.” Of course there wasn’t. Nothing like riding a bike to shake the sexual juices, jar the insides, and warm the behind. My bottom was so frantic by then, that I was glad to know this adventure was actually going to end up in my getting screwed.
“Face the tree,” he said, pointing to a huge maple. I walked that way with my crotch feeling as prickly as the bark. “Pants down, hon, if you want the full effect.”
The full effect of getting a birching in the woods, why not? My imagination couldn’t have been more pleased with this turn of events. Undoing my jeans, I pushed them down my legs, letting the denim shrivel at my ankles, then leaning against the tree and hugging the hefty trunk with my arms, I waited for the exhilaration to begin.
It started first right inside my crotch and on my tingling behind. I wondered if flies were landing or mosquitoes biting the way my skin seemed to itch just from the exposure to naked air. Close enough to rub against the tree, I couldn’t wait for him to start so I could wriggle my pussy into the bark with the plan of getting off. I’m sure KC figured just as I did.
When the switch first sliced the air, my excitement climaxed, my whole body thinking it would cum the instant the thin branch landed. Was I ever wrong! The blasted thing was as bad as a cane. I was writhing against the wood, but it was hardly an erotic experience, at least until I got used to the uncommon pain. Sharp and biting was hardly the same as the warmly erotic. I believe I hated the feeling, but after a good ten or twelve cuts, I identified its sensuous qualities. I could see I needed more of this. KC was claiming new territory in my mind and scouring my body for more. The sapling thwacked and sliced my ass until I knew the skin was raw, though by that time, I was starting to like the feel and I hated when he stopped.
“Feel it, Gail. Put your palm on your ass and rub.”
Strange as the order seemed, I enjoyed the warmth as my hand pressed against my ass, and I found the skin as rough and wondrous as I imagined it would be.
“Amazes you, doesn’t it?”
It does, I thought to myself. I didn’t need to speak for him to understand what I was feeling. As he moved on my backside, his warmth submerged with mine. His hands, his breath, the smell of a man’s sweat, the feel of the woods and earth and sky overhead, all cluttered together… I fell back on him and let go. He smacked my wounded ass with his hand—hard enough to hurt, but it didn’t hurt, and I wouldn’t have cared if it had. He fingered my cleft, looking for the wetness, then smearing the juices over my flesh, moved directly toward my anus with his fingers probing.
“You want it there again?” I murmured.
“I always want it there,” he murmured back.
And he was there, my cleft rent, the darkness accepting him as though he belonged lodged in that submissive domicile. I moved from apprehensive to satisfied, without going through the pain that comes in-between. I was used to this abuse again, and it didn’t take as long as it had with my first initiation. I suppose some things the body never forgets.
I wasn’t getting to an end easily, though. Too much stimulation and not enough concentration. KC helped; about to cum himself, he reached to finger my puss, with thumb and index finger pinching my ripe clitoris.
“Oooooo,” I hissed. My gyrations jarred the cock in my ass. He squeezed more, deciding that my left nipple could use a similar dose of grief. Between the two, my cunt started to grab as though it was looking for something else. Another dick would have been ideal. But in lieu of that, I let him work me with his fingers, and demand a response. I wanted to scream, but even in these wilds I was afraid to let it loose.
Then it was there, suddenly—too fast, though. The jerk, the grind and the resounding shock spilled out quickly, and my climax was gone too soon.
The best was KC in my ass, and his arms holding me, and his ticklish breath on my neck, and the way he whispered, “I love you,” in my ear.
“You think it’ll recover?” he was asking me a half-hour later when I had a chance to think again.
“What? My ass?”
“Your ass and your poor tattered mind.”
