TOASTED MARSHMALLOWS
by Alex B.

You and I finally get away for that weekend camping trip. We drive up into the mountains and find an inviting little spot in a clearing near a creek. I suggest that we unload the car and pitch our tent right away, but you’d rather go for a nature walk. I explain that we need to set up camp while there’s still enough sunlight. As you begin to protest I casually ask how long it’s been since you've had your pants pulled down for an attitude adjustment. Suddenly the whining stops and within ten minutes we’ve got all our gear unloaded. At first, you’re quite helpful in putting up the tent, but you soon become bored and frustrated.

“I’m tired of this!” you announce, tossing a tent pole to the ground as you storm off into the woods.

You return from your hike half an hour later to find that I’ve managed to finish erecting the tent on my own. You take in the pleasant aroma of something I’m busy cooking in a pot over the fire.

“Looks like you’ve got dinner going.”

“Uh huh. Beef stew.” I say, turning around with a large, flat wooden spoon in my hand. I wipe the spoon clean with a cloth and start walking in your direction. “But if you want any, I imagine you’ll have to eat it standing up.” Taking your wrist firmly in my hand, I escort you to the picnic table where I sit, haul you across my lap and without ceremony begin bringing the spoon down hard across the seat of your jeans. Dust flies from the denim. I lift the broad stirring instrument and give your bottom another good whack as I scold you. “Typical!” I laugh, smacking your ass again. “I pitch the tent while you pitch a fit!” I continue paddling you with the spoon until you’re kicking, crying and promising to do your share.

Eventually, I stand you up and march you into the tent. You start to say something on the way, but a swift swat with the spoon to your stinging fanny renders you speechless.

“I should make you set the table.” I comment, placing you in a corner. “But I’ll take care of that while you stand here and think about your behavior.”

You stay in place with your arms crossed, pouting angrily. After a while, you lower your jeans and start to caress your throbbing cheeks. Just as you begin thinking your punishment time must nearly be over and your mouth starts to water for some of that stew, you hear a vehicle pull up near our campsite.

“Hi there!” a man’s voice calls out.

As I engage the man in conversation, you soon realize that it’s a park ranger checking to see that we’re all right. You can’t make out exactly what we’re saying, but you hear the other man begin to laugh boisterously. You hike your pants up and stick your head out the front of the tent to see the ranger stepping back into his truck.

“Well, I hope you two have a good time." he says. “Oh, and be sure to douse that fire before you bed down.” You walk out just as he starts the engine. The ranger smiles and waves upon seeing you. “You behave yourself now!” he shouts in your direction as he drives away.

“Hungry?” I ask.

You glance over at the picnic table which has been prepared for supper and notice a pillow placed on one of the benches. This, of course, is where you will sit.

The sun slowly slips below the hills as we eat. It’s only stew from a can and some biscuits, but something about this meal, the fact that it was cooked out in the woods perhaps, makes it so delectable, so satisfying.

“What exactly did you tell that park ranger?”

“The truth.” I answer with a shrug. “I told him you were being a bad little camper, so I had to spank your bottom and send you to bed without any supper.”

“Right!” you say, not believing me at first. But then your face begins to blush over as the ranger’s words suddenly make perfect sense.

“You know, it’s funny... I don’t seem to remember saying you could come out of that tent. Seems to me you haven’t learned very much.”

Your shoulders fall at the prospect of another tanning session.

“I suppose you’re right.” you sigh and begin to get up.

“Not yet.” I say, refilling your cup with soda. “After you've had your dinner and cleared the table.”

Naturally, you take your time eating your meal and tidying up after as I stand nearby rolling up my right sleeve. Clearly hoping to avoid the planned dessert, you saunter up to me, placing your arms around my neck and a smoldering kiss on my lips as you reach down to unbuckle my belt.

“You don't really need to spank me again, do you?” you whisper into my ear as your hand snakes into my briefs. “I mean, we’re all alone in the wilderness. Can’t you think of some other ways to while away the hours?” You lift my right hand to your mouth and hungrily slide my middle finger between your lips while you squeeze my manhood tightly in your other hand.

“Definitely!” I reply, pulling my finger from your mouth. “And we’ll do them all... right after your spanking!”

You release my swollen member from your grip, frown and at kick the dirt.

“Bare bottom?” you inquire, knowing full well the answer.

A moment later you find yourself staring at the ground as I spank your bare ass with gusto. A few of your tears mingle with the dirt and pine needles, but you don’t bitch or whine. You’re just grateful that I’m using my hand instead of that dreadful spoon. I still manage to get my message across quite effectively without an implement.

After spanking you soundly for several minutes I can see, even in the dim light of dusk, that your bottom is getting quite red. I haul back and give your roasted rump one last exceptionally hard smack- one so loud that it sends a dozen birds scattering from a tree in the distance. You howl and hiss, but utter not one word of complaint.

“Our friendly ranger gave me a good piece of advice.” I mention as I hold you in place across my lap and reach into a plastic cooler near the table. “He said I should douse the fire.” I grab a cold, wet can of soda out from the ice cubes and begin gently rolling it across your scorched buns. You flinch at first, then you begin to moan quietly and then not so quietly as I roll the chilled container of pop up and down your hot swollen cheeks, occasionally bending down to place a soft kiss here and there. After a minute or two of this treatment, I pat your bottom and tell you to stand.

Grunting passionately, you push yourself from my lap. I rise with you, kissing your neck, your face, your ears. You lift your arms, signaling me to remove your shirt, which I do. You step from your pants and panties and remove your socks leaving you gloriously naked in the light of the fire.

“Want to roast some marshmallows?” I ask.

You wipe a tear from your eye and laugh as you attack my lips with yours. Your tongue swirls around mine making it clear that marshmallows are not at the top of your to do list. The moon rises over the trees and high into the night sky as we pleasure each other. I spread out a sleeping bag and lay down upon it. You mount and ride me like an animal for the longest time. Then I place you on your hands and knees and take you from behind, smartly slapping your ass now and then as I thrust into you.

As the last trail of smoke from our fire drifts away, we zip our sleeping bags together and climb inside. I kiss your cheek and offer to cook up some bacon and eggs in the morning while you fetch some water from the creek. When you begin to complain about your work assignment, I don’t bother to argue. I simply ask if you’d prefer to be spanked with that wooden spoon before or after breakfast. Suddenly, all is quiet. Only a few crickets and a solitary owl hooting in the distance can be heard. Wrapped in each other’s arms, we gaze into the heavens until the stars lull us to sleep.

We never do get to the marshmallows.

THE END