The Picnic 38

What a perfect day! Staying inside on a day like this would have been such a waste; I had to get us outdoors for a picnic. During the drive out here I was marveling at the sunlight raining through the trees like the daubs and flecks of an Impressionist dream. Even the tarmac reminded me of the dance of light and dark on the flesh a dappled pony. I wish you could have seen it.

Was it wrong of me to deprive you of the sight? It was, I know; otherwise, it wouldn't have taken so much effort to force you into the trunk. I don't think I could have managed it if you'd had the use of your hands. Even with them cuffed together, you clubbed at me like a marauding Viking trying to subdue a recalcitrant villager. It was cute. At least the leg irons kept you from kicking.

Our picnic spot is in that clearing up ahead with a view of the lake. If you shorten your stride to accommodate the irons, I think you can manage. Come now, no complaints. I'm the one carrying the blanket and picnic supplies, after all. I can't understand you through the bit gag, anyway.

What a perfect spot to relax and enjoy this beautiful day! Have you ever seen such a perfect blue sky, such cottony clouds, such lush greenery? It might be too warm were it not for this gentle wind tenderly stroking my face and arms. It must feel even more delicious to you, now that I've cut your clothes off completely, to be cradled in the warmth of the sun and tickled by the cool breeze. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to do; I'll have to buy you new clothes tomorrow. Maybe. If you're good. At any rate, this place is secluded, and the authorities don't cite people for public nudity anymore. Not often, anyway. I think. I probably should have checked on that. My bad.

Gentlemen! Over here!

You don't mind that I invited a few friends to join us, do you? Wait, is that panic in your eyes? Oh, dear, I should have asked whether you'd mind your nakedness displayed to other men. I'm an inconsiderate oaf. But look at their smiles! You're a people-pleaser, no doubt about it. The sight of you makes men happy. I know you don't believe it, no matter how many times I say it. Now do you see the lengths to which I'll go to prove I'm right? And speaking of lengths, just look at what's straining against their clothing. That looks uncomfortable, gentlemen; perhaps you'd better remove your pants.

You know, we've been together and monogamous for so long that I couldn't remember your preferences in men. That's wrong of me; I should pay closer attention. Some women like furry chests, but I think more like their men smooth. I figured I'd play it safe and get you one of the former and two of the latter. Perhaps you might think of that furry chest as a downy fleece waiting to receive and caress your bare back. He certainly seems to approve of you; I don't think this breeze could make a man that hard all by itself.

That's good, gentlemen; ease her onto our friend's chest while the tip of his cock probes her anus and his pre-cum murmurs the password for entry. Gently now; let her sphincter enact its gradual, dignified surrender. There, she is well and truly impaled on his shaft. While his hands explore her breasts and anchor her hips, I'll remove her cuffs and lengthen the chain on her leg irons for your pleasure. There we go. Now, one of you between her legs and the other at her mouth, if you please. I'll remove the gag, and you'll welcome him with your tongue, won't you Kitten? Good girl.

You know, I'm almost embarrassed at how much I enjoyed listening to you grunt into your gag as our furry friend pushed his cock into your asshole. And the way you squeal and slobber around one man's rod while two others penetrate you in front and behind—is it wrong to enjoy such a thing? Perhaps. Probably. As you've said so often, I'm irredeemable.

I know it was wrong to plan all this without asking you. Truly, I apologize. Mind your manners, Kitten, and don't talk with your mouth full.

Well, I think I'll have my picnic lunch while you have yours. What a perfect day!