Sundae

I had rowed this bloody great rowing boat across a breezy lake to a nice, quiet island. No expert at this sort of thing, I had struggled to get the mouldy old stick of wood that was our vessel to go in anything like a straight line. I zigged when I wanted to zag and I don’t know what. Still, soon enough I stuffed the pointy end into a convenient, narrow shore and leapt out onto dry land.

I gave Lady a hand in disembarking and, cooing, she skipped away into the flora nice as you like, leaving me to haul her picnic basket from the belly of the beast.
Shielded by the lake breezes by a nest of trees, a sunlit glade was ours. Lady found a place in the long grass to unfurl a blanket and settle down. The sweat from my exertions was making my collar itch against my neck, so as soon I had dragged the dead weight of Lady’s basket - which I was now convinced was filled with cannon balls and lead - I divested my self of my shirt. Of course Lady’s eyes widened in mock-surprise. ‘What, you don’t think we came here for a picnic, did you?’ I said. She smiled saucily, but still made a show of being shocked and la-la’d when I began undressing her as well. I told her we needed to cool down by going for a dip in the lake.

Naked to the world she crept through the trees and peered out, scanning the distant mainland shoreline for prying eyes. To hell with her modesty, I thought, and gave her arse a good slap which sent her on her way.
The water was bracingly cold and slick with some weed or other. We didn’t loiter, staying just enough for the waters to refresh us before padding out onto the flat, thick sand. Both nude, dripping wet and barefoot, we gingerly made our way back through the trees like Adam and Eve. Did Adam get the same charge watching the graceful roll of Eve’s glorious round arse as she walked before him, I wondered? I put my hand to feel Lady’s peaches-and-cream cheeks. Playfully she brushed my hand aside and danced out of reach. That did it, I lunged for her again, and again she darted away like a fish out of a closing hand. She giggled like a child as I gave chase, and though the ground underneath the trees was mostly just dust, the soft soles of her feet didn’t like the twigs, so her escape plan failed and I was soon upon her.
I pinned her against one of the trees, and still she writhed in my embrace, still giggling, still refusing to let my mouth on hers. Time to put a stop to her game, I thought. A fallen tree made a good enough place for me to sit and I threw Lady across my knee. She shrieked and struggled, of course, but I held firm. I paused to drink in the sight of her bottom raised, wide and wriggling in the air. Dappled sunlight playing across her smooth pale skin... It quite gives a chap a caution, I tell you!
I quickly regained my composure and, before she knew it, my hand came down with a satisfying slap onto her arse. I gave her a damn good spanking before I was done, and she didn’t quarrel no more.
To soothe her blushing cheeks I did let my fingers glide circles across them ever-so lightly. Then I scooped her up and carried her back to our blanket in the sun.

Basket unpacked and we nibbled at this and that for a while, but our blood was up and our carnal hunger was what was in need of feeding. I told her I hadn’t yet finished giving her pretty behind my attention, and she dutifully - if not eagerly! - rolled over onto her knees and presented me her soft cheeks. Phew!
Being a resourceful sort of fellow, I took the pot of clotted cream and scooped out the contents before applying it to Lady’s button. It made her gasp a little, but she knew it would help matters along. So. In the hum of that summer field, carefully, but vigorously, I took her up the bottom.
She may have occasionally grunted like some low animal, but I knew this was her favourite. And, to tidy the deal, I slipped a hand between her legs and squirreled about there to her contentment.

After I had finished myself inside her, and we had cleaned up all the cream and muck, she lay back languorously as I got out a punnet of strawberries from the picnic basket.
It was then I realised, damn, I had used up the cream! What a dreadful oversight, I said, I can’t have my strawbs without the cream. Then I caught a glinting from behind the chestnut curls between Lady’s lags, and I had an idea.
Five nice size strawberries fitted neatly inside her, I found. I bowed my head between Lady’s wide open legs and snuffled about her private quarters. It was an interesting combination of tastes and textures as I probed about with my tongue, trying to scoop out each fruit, some getting a bit squashed along the way, their sweet juices mingling with Lady’s own brand, as it were. I scoffed down the first four, which were retrieved relatively easily, but the final one proved more elusive, resisting all attempts of my tongue trying to snare it, rolling away each time and me having to dig ever deeper into the wet little hole with my tongue. Needless to say this was all driving Lady quite potty. “I can’t stand it!” she whimpered, and now writhing her pelvis around, which wasn’t exactly helping me with my task.
Eventually though I managed to fish out the blighter - it was a little worse for wear, but then, by this point, so was Lady. But at least I managed to have my strawberries and cream.

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This has been hanging around my hard drive for months, but it was only now that I’ve been desperate enough to publish it. I’ll be going away tomorrow, for a short break, and so this will have to tide the blog over ‘till I return. Back in a week.
D.