Walking and talking

When I’m not writing, or being spanked, one of the things I spend a lot of time doing is walking. I have a dog (the loveliest, bestest dog in the world) and between us BH and I take him out three times a day. That’s a lot of walking, and a lot of time.

And, while we walk, we talk. Very often, as it happens, about sex, and kink. We’re a talkative couple in general – but then, poor BH, the only times I generally shut up are when I’m asleep or when I’m gagged – but it does seem that, strolling about the idyllic English countryside*, we talk about naughty, sexy stuff far more than anything else. Maybe it’s the fresh air.

Here’s a pie chart that helpfully breaks down the topics of our discourse:

As well as just generally talking dirty to each other, we often talk about outdoor spanking and outdoor sex, and BH likes to tease me with threats and promises. Not that I need much encouragement to imagine being spanked and fucked. Kink must be hard-wired into my brain because every single time we pass by a bench I picture myself being spanked OTK on it. (And most times I mention this fact to BH). Jeans and knickers down, smacked bottom and blushing face both red as a cherry. Oh! But! What if someone sees?

It’s a yummy fantasy, all right.

And what is it about trees? Is it some kind of primal thing? They just seem to cry out for you to get up to naughty things amongst them, behind them, on them, up against them...

I do long to be put across a fallen tree and spanked (in a long, flowing dress, for some reason). And also to be stripped naked in the middle of the woods, tied to a tree and thrashed. Then fucked. Although that one might have to wait until we own a bit of land (or at least a garden). A middle-aged couple wandering by as I was in the middle of being wantonly ravished – bound and helpless, my fair skin streaked red from the caress of the birch – would definitely take some of the carefree abandon away from the experience. It’s funny: the idea of being seen getting a spanking turns me on, but that of being seen having sex doesn’t. It must be something to do with the humiliation aspect of spanking.

Anyway, despite all the talk, we have yet to summon the courage to try al fresco spanking, beyond a few sly slaps to my rear as we stroll. But I’m confident that we will give it a whirl at some point, in all its bare-bottomed, kicking, screaming, over-the-knee glory. And, who knows, maybe even outdoor sex (with lashings of lashings and harsh bondage) too. Weather permitting.

If anyone has tried either (or both) of these things, I’d love to hear from you!

The picture at the top of this post, that so expertly illustrates the act of walking, is taken from one of my favourite books: Hop on Pop by Dr Seuss. Great book! (Of course, it’s one of little Penny’s favourites, too. She can read nearly all the words in it, all by herself, you know).

*poetic licence.