A friend who happened to be a girl suggested that we take a road trip together, to get away for a few days, to see some touristy stuff in our state that residents rarely see, to get to know one another better. I couldn’t say no.
We traveled the back roads, not the highways, saw the sights, took our time, talked. I really liked Liz. But as our trip continued, I noticed something. Liz was looking at me strangely. Do you know how gay guys look at one another with too much eye contact? That’s what I thought of as Liz took her eyes off the road and looked at me as we talked. She looked at me “longingly,” that is both for too long without blinking or looking away, and looking as though I was an ice cream cone that she wanted to lick.
So we saw a roadside fruit, vegetable, and flower stand, and Liz pulled over.
“Do you shop at the Farmers Market in town during the spring and summer?” she asked.
“Almost every weekend,” I responded. “I love it!”
“I’m surprised I’ve never seen you there. We ought to make a date to go at the same time some Saturday, and then have coffee afterwards…” she suggested.
“As long as I can have tea instead of coffee, I’m game.”
“You don’t drink coffee?” she asked incredulously.
“Nope, it makes me jittery.”
“I couldn’t survive without it…”
I found a really musky smelling and ripe cantaloupe, and Liz found some beautiful big strawberries. As the clerk was ringing it up, Liz added a bouquet of wildflowers to our choices.
“Those are lovely!” I said.
Liz gave me another of those longing looks. We got in the car and got back on the road. I held the bouquet in my hand, sniffed them, held them out the window and watched them ruffle in the wind.
“Don’t let a single stem loose,” she admonished. “I have plans for those flowers…”
They were a bunch of flowers. She was going to recut the stems, put them in water in a vase at our hotel, and enjoy their vibrancy and olfactory sweetness. What plans could she have? My returned quizzical gaze must have conveyed this.
Liz looked through the windshield now without looking at me at all.
“I discovered your blog, Jeanie. I’ve read all your postings…”
I knew that I must be blushing crimson. Liz knew things about me that no actual friend did. I felt exposed. I’ve been nakedly honest on my blog, revealing my true self there, relying on the anonymity I thought it afforded. I didn’t know what to say, if I’d be able to say anything for the rest of our journey.
“It turned me on. Tremendously. You are so frank, so sexual, so hot! I feel I know you, and I’m falling in love with what I know… At least falling in lust…”
Well, she wasn’t condemning me for being a lascivious whore, I thought. I pulled the bouquet of flowers back inside the window and buried my face in the blossoms to hide.
“I bought those flowers because when we get to the motel, I want to take your pants down and whip you with them, like a bundle of birch branches. Or you can bare me first and beat my butt…”
I summoned up the nerve to look her in the eye and she took her eyes off the road to return my gaze.
“That sounds… like lots of fun…” I whispered, and we were left to anticipate what awaited.
Do you know how some heterosexual couples say that they were friends first for a long time, and then discovered one day that their feelings had deepened. I always thought those stories were hokey. Until I experienced it firsthand. Liz pulled into the parking lot of the Woodside Motel and Lodge. I reached out and put my hand on hers.
“Have you ever done this before?” I asked, my voice suddenly sounding strained.
“Define ‘this’…” she said.
She and I were silent for a long minute.
“I’ve been with a woman in bed before. Many. But never spanked anyone. Or been spanked. But I’ve dreamed about it a hell of a lot,” Liz intimated to me.
“I’m kind of an authority on spanking, but never been with a woman… in bed… for sex…” I added. “Let’s just take it slow, and check-in with each other frequently and…”
Liz lifted my hand and kissed my knuckles, and I knew that everything would be okay.
We checked-in with a teenager desk clerk, went to our room, which was clean and bright and nice.
“Let’s take a shower together first,” I suggested, “wash off the dust from the road…”
Liz smiled and nodded and started to disrobe, “Bring the bouquet of flowers…”
I thought of all the implements of ass destruction that I had back home, that strap-on that I bought just for such longed-for serendipity. We’d just have to improvise.
Liz was the kind of girl who gave the impression of being wholesome when dressed, but who looked mischievously naughty and nasty when nude. I soaped her up and she did me. We spent lots up time sudsing-up each other’s titties and pinching nipples, then exploring fragrant pussies with soap fingers, and finally penetrating tight butt holes.
Liz giddily turned her back on me, bent. “Whip me!”
I picked up the bouquet and gave her butt a good, hard swipe. She gasped.
“They say a whipping hurts more on a wet butt. It stings just right, will feel divine after about a hundred lashes…”
I held up the already drooping flowers. “These won’t last…”
She took them from my hand, turned me around under the stream of hot water from the shower. She gave my butt a good shot.
“Have you ever been birched?” She looked back at me blankly. “Beaten lightly with a bundle of thin birch branches,” I clarified. “The Scandinavians like it after a sauna.”
Liz shook her head. “I haven’t been beaten with anything… except in my mind… especially when reading your blog…” I took the bouquet from her and gave her several more swats on an ever-reddening tush.
“About that…” I started, then drew a blank how to proceed. “..I just have a vivid imagination…” I finished lamely.
“You’re lying! If you keep it up, I’ll spank you hard for it,” she said. She was good at improvised role-play, I believed her. She smiled and turned tail, “Show me how by spanking me hard for being so innocent…”
I saw her bid and raised it. I spanked her wet firm bottom soundly, slowly, sensually. My fingers revisited her pussy, where I diddled as I punished. Liz crumpled beneath my ministrations, moaning as a climax possessed her.
I took her chin in my fingers so I could look her in the eye.
“I want to lick you, taste your pussy, eat you out thoroughly…” and I started to sink to my knees to get started.
She caught me under my armpits and pulled me back upright. “We’ll be withered, wrinkled prunes if we do that here! Let’s get out and dry off and do that in bed.” Her hands moved to cup my boobies. Looking me in the eye, she sucked one, then bit down until I whimpered. I wanted her as badly as I ever wanted anything in this life.
There were all kinds of attractions and sights on our itinerary. It was sublime weather the whole weekend. But we never left that hotel room to see any of them. I did see and taste this awe-inspiring canyon called My Lover’s Cunt. Liz saw a lot of views of my south end facing north when she took me across her knee, repeatedly and heatedly, for spanking practice. I did have a hiking accident; I was at the top of a sheer cliff and I fell in love, head-over-heels the whole way. I hope to reside in this blissful state for the rest of my life. It was the perfect road trip.
“We spent a lot of time sudsing-up…”
“They say a whipping hurts more on a wet butt…”