Camping with Zed pt 4 (Final) - by sarah thorne

[sarah thorne]

Man, am I long winded or what?? - Sorry, but my stories aren't just 'spank spank spank'.
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Back over the pillows I went compliantly as he followed me, full of gleeful anticipation, back into the tent. Once we both got settled, he lay the switch across the fullest part of my bottom, then started tapping gently to tease me.

Suddenly, one stroke! Ow! Another shocking, slicing, cutting stroke landed, then another, slow at first and then slightly faster. I buried my face in the pillow, well aware that there were people who were not very far from us at all. I had to be silent! I did start to gasp with each subsequent stroke, trying very hard not to do it loudly. All the while, lines of fire were being spread across the full of my bottom, faster and faster and then finally it stopped. He began to rub gently. It was soothing. He rubbed firmly, rubbing the flames inward, helping to smolder them.

It was a deceptive act, though! Once more he picked up the switch and began again, all the while asking me in that taunting voice, “What’s wrong, ginger? You sure are wiggling an awful lot.”

If I could have managed it, I would have shot daggers at him with my glare.

The switch wrapped slightly and it hurt tremendously. A switching hurts anyway, but a wrapping is excruciating and I had to remain quiet, which was hard to do. I gripped the pillows tightly and began to kick.

Finally, he stopped again and started to rub the burn out, asking me if I liked it. Fingers began to stray between my closed thighs, but I clamped them closed even tighter and said, “No!”

He chuckled. “Why?”

“Because I am mad at you!” I announced petulantly.

He stroked gently for a few moments then picked up the switch again and lay it across my bottom. He tapped softly. Once, twice, three times. He then swished it in the air a few times as if to make me think he was going to use it, but it never landed. He leaned in close to my ear.

“Is this what naughty country girls get when they’ve been bad?” he asked.

I mumbled an answer. I’ve got to keep some pride! At that response, the switching started again. Slow at first and then building into a rapidly flaming fire.

Once he was done he forced his hand between my closed thighs. I resisted at first, still mad. Sensation took over, however, and I found myself opening my legs ever so slowly. He taunted me with questions.

“Who does this bottom belong to?”

“You.”

“And what can I do with it?”

“Anything you want.”

“That’s right. And when?”

“Anytime you want.”

Can you tell I am well trained in how to answer when in a compromising position?

After this question and answer session, Zed began to whisper spanking scenarios in my ear, as he sometimes tends to do because it creates visuals and adds to that manual manipulation. I found myself, however, drifting into my own little spanking fantasy in my mind. Freshly out of the tub, in trouble, snatched and bent over the back of the bed. A belt used. Over and over, no recourse, no mercy and nothing to do except simply cope.

This is a common fantasy of mine; Zed knows this. One of severity and complete submission, although in a real life scenario I would not desire to be in a situation like that. But the thought of it – with a fictional character in my head – is such an incredible turn on.

What he was doing to me, however, was even more torturous. He had me in just the right position, and his hand angled just right, to literally keep me teetering on the brink, about to reach that summit only to just fall short of actually making it. A few times I was just on the edge, for sure I was going to topple within seconds, and he would move his stimulation a fractional inch, causing stimulation in a slightly different area. Right there on the edge I stayed. He was talking to me, his mouth close to my ear, breath hot as he relayed a scene about naughty rachel (my ageplay name) caught in a misdeed and about to go over a lap. The waiting, the preparation, the pulling down of her panties. He claimed later on that my lubrication increased dramatically during this little storytime. Patiently, slowly, deliberately those fingers worked, just enough to keep me right there on the verge of going over without actually tipping, yet not enough to finally get me there and send me soaring. It was incredibly frustrating and glorious all at the same time.

But finally, it was just right. The familiar start of the warmth, and then an explosion of penetrating heat burst forth, shooting rapidly through my whole body. The blood in my veins racing, scalding as the paralyzing tingling emanated from every pore and the epicenter of pleasure just continuing to pulsate, spewing out more and more and more. Strongly, overpowering. I had to contain my cries when normally an orgasm of that strength would have me quite loud. My body rocked over the pillows as I buried my face in a different pillow, my fists clenched with a handful each of the sleeping bag.

As the warmth and pulsations ebbed, I closed my thighs over his still-working hand. The sensation of his touch was now unbearable but that did not deter him.

“Please, please…” I gasped.

“Done?” He asked wickedly, fingers moving slowly now, which was a tad more tolerable.

“Yes!” I managed between gulps of air.

“Are you sure?” Usually, my “one” orgasm consists of two right in a row, as ‘one’ is not fully complete, for me, without that second off of my plateau. But this orgasm took care of the need for a second one. It had almost wiped me out! Vigorously, I shook my head. “No more!”

He stopped and said, as if nothing had taken place. “Let’s go get breakfast.”

I was not even breathing normally yet! And I could still hardly move!

As I emerged from the tent after having put myself back together best I could, he took out a comb and had me sit in the camping chair while he combed my tangled mess of a mane. We went to Dairy Queen for coffee and breakfast sandwiches and spent two hours going through a box of old pictures of me as a child growing up that I had found in the attic of my parents’ garage. Although we went through quite a few of them, it barely put a dent in the stack over all.

We made our way back to our campsite and began to take down the ten and pack everything up. Zed, with his picture taking obsession, put the camera on ‘standby’ and we took several shots of us together, although neither of us had had a bath.

The ride back home was peaceful and I left him at his sister’s house since I had to go meet my ex to pick up the kids. He kissed me as I pulled out of the driveway, reminded me to check my oil later and waved as I drove off.

[Nomad]

What an absolutly wonderful telling!! The act of doing it where there are others and to keep from being caught, hmmmmmm....... very good