#110) Underwear Instead of a Bathing Suit

Last summer we took a vacation to a national park out west. (I won’t specify which one. It was already too crowded, and we hope to go back again. They’re all beautiful, pick your own.)
On our second day there, I saw a remarkable change in my lover, Julie. She’s normally a little anal, rather tightly-wrapped, high strung. But out in the wilderness, she seemed carefree and mellow. No sooner did this change register in my mind than she upped the ante.
The weather was marvelous, not a cloud in the sky, warm but not too hot, very comfortable. Julie washed some clothes in a metal tub with a scrub board, like we were pioneers, and hung the clothes on a line outside our tent to dry. She washed her jeans that she’d worn as we hiked the first day, along with the bathing-suit she’d spent most the day wearing, and lots of undies. With little else to put on, Julie only wore her underwear, the pair she’d been wearing. She looked sexy as hell, but never would’ve done this back in the city. We had neighbors, fellow-campers (as I said, the park was crowded), and this attire drew a lot of attention from them, but Julie didn’t seem to care.
The thing is, once the wash-load was all dry, Julie didn’t change from her undies back into that bathing-suit, she continued to wear just a skimpy bra and translucent panties. It turned me on. I tried to pull her into our tent for a quickie. Julie batted my hands away.
“Let’s save that for after dark,” she said. “It gets dark about eight P.M., and we don’t want to go to sleep that early…” she smiled.
“Okay, then how about a hike?” I suggested, thinking this would motivate her to change clothes.
“Great idea!” she exclaimed.
“I’m ready whenever you…” I insinuated.
“I’m ready,” she returned, pulling on a pair of hiking boots.
I was incredulous, but didn’t argue with her. We set off on the trail. We both are in pretty good shape, we passed slower people on the trail, both older folks and families with small children to wrangle. The older men’s eyes bugged out, several children remarked things like, “Look mommy, that girl isn’t wearing any…” until their mothers shushed them. We came to a fork in the trail, I steered us onto the more remote and steep one, trying to separate us from the crowd. It worked, we seemed to be alone.
I have to admit, it was heaven following Julie up the winding trail, watching her well-muscled buttocks flex in the fresh open air, seeing her in barely any clothing, acting so unself-conscious. But it was just so radically different than Julie was back in our everyday lives, I couldn’t figure it out. Did fresh air remake her into a naturalist, what they used to call nudists back in the 1950’s? Finally, I just had to ask.
“Hey, hold up! You are a totally different person from the Julie I knew two days ago! What gives?”
Julie smiled mischievously. “I’ve been trying to earn a spanking all day!” She hugged me around the neck the way I love. “I didn’t want to brat because I know how that upsets you, so I thought I’d just show-off…” Julie wiggled her adorable tush. “So, lover, do you think I’ve gotten too big for my britches? If not, what the fuck do I have to do? Go naked…?”
I kissed her, my hands naturally gravitating down to her perfect tush.
“I think,” I whispered, we should take advantage of our environment…”
“What do you mean?” Julie asked tentatively, knowing that I was up to something.
I got out my pocket knife and opened it. “I’m glad I brought this! After all, I’ve got pockets!” I said, to which Julie stuck her tongue out at me. I cut a branch from a nearby tree. “When I finish whittling this hickory switch, we’ll pull off the trail for a spanking, followed by a good, old-fashioned butt-whuppin’ with the rod. Just the prescribed medicine for a spoiled little girl…”
“I’ve never gotten it with a hickory switch,” Julie remarked as we walked on and I whittled.
“I think it has its reputation for a good reason,” I answered, “Bet it’s gonna hurt…”
“I can’t stand the anticipation!” Julie fairly screamed.
“The switch isn’t ready yet…” I said, still whittling.
“Please spank me now, then, and switch me later!”
I sat on a log. Julie sat on my lap. We kissed for several long, languid minutes. Then like a sleek otter, she twisted around, and dove over my knee, and presented her panty-clad bottom. I slowly pulled the well-known-and-seen garment down off her curves.
“I love this butt!” I enthused from the heart.
“I know you do; you say that all the time. Spank it for me, I’ve been a terrible tease!”
“An adorable tease,” I pronounced as I pronounced sentence on her heart-shaped butt with vigorous slaps.
Julie yelped and squirmed seductively as I spanked her long and hard. When I’d warmed her thoroughly, I lifted her from my lap and put her back on her heavy-heeled feet.
“Keep your panties lowered, I want to see your bare red ass in the sunshine while I finish the switch,” I ordered.
Julie obeyed, and I nearly cut my fingers several times while whittling because her bum was so mesmerizing. We walked on.
Just as I was done with the whippy rod, I saw the perfect fallen tree by the trailside.
“Bend over that log, Julie, time for your appointment with the switch.”
“Please may I pull my panties up for a little protection,” she pleaded beguilingly, “I’m scared of what’s coming!”
“For the first half of your whipping, yes. I reserve the right to pull them down for the last strokes if I want. And kick those clunky clod-hoppers off your feet.”
Julie did, and presented the cutest little bum over the tree, ready for a dose of the switch. The twig whistled through the air menacingly, and cut into her fanny flesh with a resounding wallop out in the clear, natural surroundings. Julie’s butt flexed seductively, then she stuck it out for more. I laid another lick right across the summit of her cheekiness. What happened next, neither of us anticipated. The switch didn’t break the skin, something I’m loathe to do, but it did have enough force to shred her thin panties in half. The fabric gave way entirely at the leg-holes and fell off her onto the ground. Julie looked down at them, then up at me. I shrugged. Julie let the tears that had been threatening to fall to overbrim her long lashes.
“That’s all I have to wear!” she tremulously whimpered.
“Gee, it looks like your chickens came home to roost,” I replied, quoting my dear-departed grandma. “Don’t despair, I have a remedy, but you’ve got a hickory switching to endure first. Bend back over and stick that naughty butt out for it!”
Julie complied, openly crying from the pain and her predicament. I took the starch out of her, whipping her as she deserved. Then I dropped my trousers, pulled off my tidy-whitey underwear, and gave them to Julie to put on, while I pulled my pants back on. Julie again stepped into her boots.
“Thank you. That hurt like a mother! Will you take me back to camp and fuck me, please?”
“Yes, to both those questions,” I answered, putting my hand on her welted rump while I could, while the trail was wide enough for us to walk abreast.
“Aren’t you gonna throw that dreadful switch away?” Julie asked plaintively, when she saw it in my hand.
“Nope. I think I’ll keep it. I may need it during the rest of our camp-out, or maybe once we’re home.”
“Oh great, just great,” Julie replied, sounding like it was anything but great.

5 responses to “#110) Underwear Instead of a Bathing Suit”

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