Author's Cautionary Note: This is fiction. No animals were hurt writing this, nor were any of the characters, although there are several rather severe spankings, among other libertine activities. Needless to say none of the people are real. However the characters do engage in one dangerous activity. They walk and/or play in the forest without any clothes (part of the time), and very few clothes the rest of the time. This is dangerous. Deer Ticks are very real; they carry Lyme disease, first identified in Connecticut (location of the forest in the story). Remember to cover-up when walking in the forest, and upon returning home, each person should be checked very carefully, fully nude -- of course -- for ticks. Immediate and minute attention should be paid to the genital areas, and while it is unlikely that any ticks will have landed on those areas if you remained fully clothed in your outdoor excursions, still checking -- if done correctly -- will be fun anyway.
Spanking is for adults only. So is sex. Both occur frequently in this story.
Special thanks to Aurora Leigh for her kind and perceptive comments.
*
Jerry, a tall leonine man in his mid-fifties, loved his daughter Heather (taking after her mother she possessed a zaftig figure). After his wife, Ramona, passed away she had become the center of the universe to him. So he was stunned when right after she had finished her first year at college she had announced on her nineteenth birthday no less that she was going away to Europe for a year.
She had left two weeks ago at the end of August. Now he faced the entire year with her over in Europe. Oh he could fly over there, since his boss wouldn't mind if he slacked off for a month or two, since he was the boss; his electronic parts company was so successful his senior management could run it quite well with him gone, but he suspected Heather needed some space to herself so he decided to endure September, his favorite month of the year for its warm days and moderate evenings, all by himself.
However -- as he was later to muse -- it had become obvious that his daughter had other ideas. Before she left she had introduced him to her roommate Lisa from her first year at college. Lisa, a lissome honey-blonde nineteen year-old with pale skin and even paler sky blue eyes, had just moved to New York with her parents -- and with Heather leaving for Europe -- she had no other friends her age so Heather had invited her over to spend the last Sunday before she left at their Hampton's summer house with her dad.
Despite his initial irritation that he would not have the last weekend day before Heather left alone with his only child, Jerry steeled himself and to his surprise the three of them had a great time. They went walking along the beach, tossing a Frisbee back and forth, getting wet when it sailed wide and into the water as it often did when Heather threw it. Lisa, he noticed, had a way of flicking her wrist so the Frisbee sailed clear, soaring along in the soft summer breeze. They later sauntered into town for some ice cream and sherbet; and later to top off a hot muggy August night, took in a classic Star Trek reenactment in the park -- an event according to both Heather and Lisa --that was all the rage with the younger set -- and had a very good time.
He thought that would have been the last he would see of Lisa until Heather returned so, now, several weeks later he was very surprised and rather pleased to get a call from her. She had heard about an off-off-off Broadway play that she thought they might enjoy seeing. He had accepted without thinking, kind of all giddy and excited like a nervous teenager, before he realized that he had agreed to a date with his daughter's former roommate, who was a teenager: a woman so young she couldn't drink legally for another two years; a date that Lisa had set-up moreover; a young woman several months younger than his own daughter. For a brief second he considered canceling tan realized that Lisa would likely be hurt, besides he could use the company. And a part of him was secretly pleased that such a young and obviously attractive woman would even consider going out with an old codger like himself.
The play itself was fascinating, written by a friend of a friend of Lisa's, a young up-and-coming playwright. It was about a college professor and a former female student of his and the evening they spent after meeting at a college reunion. It was about the various sexual fantasies that they had about each other and how, now that they were no longer in an unequal power relationship, they could explore them without guilt or shame or recrimination of any kind.
And one point in the play when they acted out a fantasy of the girl dressed in a private school uniform telling the professor that she had been naughty the professor had given her a few half-hearted smacks over her tight tartan skirt. Jerry noticed that Lisa had sucked in her breath and cuddled in against him, grabbing hold of one his hands and holding it for the rest of the play. She had nestled in even closer when seconds later he put his other arm around her. They sat there watching as the play ended when the professor and the student parted company at the end of the evening.
It was a very steamy play and made more so by the understated performances, no pretend sex, no nudity, the couple didn't even kiss, yet the nature of the material left the audience silent, and Jerry suspected -- quite, quite, horny. He felt certain Lisa was as she seemed to breathe deeply several times during the play. He knew it had affected him. He found it slightly embarrassing to get up at the end since he sported a rather obvious erection. He had not been this excited since he had first met Ramona at a dance hosted by his fraternity in college; it had certainly been the first time since her death that he had gotten an involuntary woody.
Jerry knew Lisa had seen his aroused state since she looked right at that area as he stood up. He willed it go down and after a moment or two it did, much to his relief. After briefly visiting the playwright, a nebbishy looking man of indeterminate age between thirty and fifty, backstage who nodded rather limply at Lisa, although he peered at Jerry in a rather intense fashion, they made their way outside.
As he hailed a cab Lisa joked that the playwright was probably depressed because none of his gay friends had showed up this evening, and that while the players in the version of the play they had just seen had been heterosexual he had originally written it about two men. But the producers convinced him that while a play about two men would do well on the coasts it would die in flyover country, so he had rewritten it, replacing the young male student with a young coed, and now the gay community was boycotting the play.
Jerry nodded at this juicy piece of gossip and as he hailed a cab for Lisa he decided that he wanted to see this vivacious young woman again. He invited her to his country house in Connecticut next Saturday. He told her that the house abutted one of the oldest forest preserves in the nation and asked if she liked to hike in the forest. She squealed said yes, jumped up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. And so he had his second date with Lisa.
She showed up at noon on Saturday, all dressed for a hike in sensible SAS hiking shoes, khaki shorts, a fanny pack, and a bright turquoise shirt that brought out the blue in her eyes. He asked her if she had any trouble finding the place, and she said no that his instructions had been perfect.
He invited her in and after eating a superb lunch highlighted by a dish of fettuccini Alfredo and a Greek olive salad that he had spent the morning throwing together, she checked out a picture album of the family on the living room coffee table, photographs of Jerry, his wife and Heather during happier times before Ramona had become ill; while Jerry changed into sneakers, tan running shorts, and a teal green tank top.
Lisa smiled as she saw him enter the room and they headed out the back porch of the house and up a small dirt path and within seconds they crossed into the woods that surrounded three sides of his country house.
As they walked along the forest they talked about the play they had just seen. Lisa asked him if he thought the fantasies they had witnessed the characters out in the play were realistic. Could two people separated by decades share the same fantasies? Be compatible in what most people almost never admitted and certainly never acted upon?
Jerry paused and said: "That matters." And then he paused again, almost as if unwilling to go any further, as if he had already said too much; had revealed too much to this young woman whose own father he imagined might actually be younger than him.
"Matters how?" she replied, looking aside at him as they walked amongst the trees as the path began to narrow as it curved even deeper into the forest.
"On whether you have been a good girl today," he said, slowing slightly to let her go ahead of him. He admired her ass as it moved softly back and forth as she walked.
"And what if I haven't?" she answered, smiling over her shoulder back at him.
"Well you know what happens to bad girls?" He could not believe where this conversation was going these were some of his most privately held fantasies. He had never thought about them, or even come close to acting them out, since Ramona had died.
"No, I don't," she continued walking, smiling.
"So have you been a bad girl?" he asked, trying to keep a stern look on his face, but failing as a smile crept though.
"Have you been a good boy?" she looked back at him, with a broad smile on her face. He knew she was thinking touché on that line of questioning.
"Sure," they both said in unison, smiling at each other as they said it, and then laughing as they noted that they had both said it together.
He began musing that maybe decades don't matter. That similar fantasies are not determined by age. He wondered if she were thinking the same thing, and answering in the affirmative in her mind the question that she had posed earlier. He began to think that maybe lightning could strike twice. That maybe he could dream again. He began thinking of Lisa in a completely different way. In a much more sexual way. As less his daughter's friend, than as a hot young woman, who had desires, the same as he did. Desires that needed to be satisfied.
The path widened out for a second and she slowed and -- as he came along side her -- she linked her arm in his and they continued walking through the forest. He found that thinking about the fantasies inspired by the scene in the play of the girl getting spanked had caused his erection to return. Soon his shorts began to tent outward. He tried to shift stride to calm down and he was certain that Lisa had seen how stiff his cock had become.
Seconds later, Jerry was still trying to calm down when Lisa stopped and picked up a small switch from the side of the path. He noticed with interest that she swished it back and forth a couple of times. Her actions weren't helping. His cock had grown so hard it had become uncomfortable.
"Boy I bet that would hurt," she said, swishing it again.
That did it! Immense arousal flooded through him. Images of her whipping that switch down on his bare ass flashed through his head. His heart thudded in his chest, a good thud he hoped; his face suddenly turned hotter than he could have imagined. He knew he was blushing; he hoped that hidden in the shade of the trees she had not picked up on it.
"I wouldn't know," he said, the words spilling out of his mouth unbidden. It seemed as if his mouth was connected directly to his penis, which he knew was a hard as it had ever been in years.
"Only one way to find out," Lisa smiled at him and handed him the switch. She stopped at a tree limb that was at about arm height, and before he could comprehend what was happening she had taken off her shorts; she was naked underneath. She slung them over the branch, then turned away from him, grabbed a hold of the branch and stuck her ass out, he saw with a shock that her pussy had been shaved bare, and then twisted her neck and shoulders back and stared at him, her pale blue eyes huge in the semi-darkness.
