A Midsummer's Nightmare & Other Stories

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“Oh, you never know,” Eric, all 200 pounds of tight virile flesh, sighed.

He had such a smooth tanned chest, Patricia was thinking as she looked at him. She had to force her glance away, and doing so she got up from the lounge and dove into the water.

That night, she was on her way back to her cottage when Eric accosted her in a secluded section of the footpath leading to her door. She suddenly found herself trapped between the cottage wall and Eric who was standing so close she could detect a trace of spearmint on his breath.

“You are a lovely one, Mrs. Adams,” he said with the look of a lust-filled scoundrel. Strangely, he reminded her a bit of her husband.

“Eric, you shouldn’t.”

“I don’t think you should let the summer go by without one indiscreet kiss from an admirer.”

Patricia’s heart was thumping so fast she was sure the young man could hear it. Her belly stirred anxiously, half-wishing that he’d press his groin against her, and half wishing that she could flee the uncomfortable confinement. She hesitated a minute too long, finding Eric’s soft lips were caressing hers and she was replying back.

“There, wasn’t that something to remember?”

Yes, of course it was! she heard her inner mind exclaiming.

Still knowing she should bolt away, she remained long enough for Eric’s lips to take another journey about hers, and then for him to embrace her chilled shoulders and force a long wet kiss. She replied eagerly, letting her mouth open as his did. Then coming to her senses, she pushed him back.

“No, no, I can’t. I’m a married woman.”

Eric snickered.

“Oh, I’ll get you skinny-dipping before the summer’s over,” he assured her. “Bet on it.”

He didn’t pursue her further, but walked on, whistling all the way.

Patricia shuddered as she watched the handsome Eric disappear from sight. Tight ass, hefty shoulders, just enough tousled black hair to look sexy. It was all she could do not to masturbate that night to the thought of doing laps in the pool naked with the young man by her side.

Patricia managed to ignore Eric Downy for several days. Sticking close to her female friends, she avoided any time alone with him and any untoward advances. However, one evening as she was on her way to dinner, she found herself joined by an eager, smiling Eric, his arm going easily around her slim waist as though it belonged there.

“How about meeting me on the beach tonight? Cool the heat?”

“You know I can’t,” she whispered her protest.

“I know nothing of the sort,” he returned. “I’ll be there. You will be too. We’ll just talk if you like. I don’t need any more than that.” He left her with a chipper grin and walked off.

Patricia knew she was being foolish to set out at sunset to find Eric Downy. He told her they’d just talk and the idea sounded appealing. She was smart enough to know however, that he had much more in mind than just talk. And she wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t welcome that something more. With George gone over three weeks, not returning for another two, she was almost desperate to feel the warmth of a man near her. Having obsessed on Eric Downy she knew the dangers of an ill-advised trek, but she took it anyway.

Patricia reached the quiet cove, a secluded spot just a few minutes from the guest manor and the cottages. She could hear the trees stirring and waves lapping gently on the sandy beach. On the far side of the small inlet, she could make out Eric’s distinct form. He was sitting on a rock looking out.

“See, I knew you’d come,” he said, as he watched her approach.

“I probably shouldn’t be doing this,” she said smiling.

“I know, but you’re lonely. It’s really okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

For about a half hour the two talked, staying clear of any close contact. Patricia enjoyed the feeling of a man so attentive to her, but she still kept her distance. With a lull in the conversation, Eric suddenly popped up and began undressing.

“Let’s just go,” he said, nodding to the water. “What’s it going to hurt?”

His smile was warm and affectionate, and his body as he stripped away the last article of clothing—his briefs—was beautifully breathtaking.

She was so taken with the display that she suddenly stood up and tossed away her sundress and panties and raced down the beach on Eric’s heels, knowing she’d gone totally mad. Yet jumping into the water she felt such a delicious liberty. The only thing she could equate it to were those first few weeks free of Victor. The water bathed her sweaty skin with its cool tangy liquid, the heat disappearing—floating away like leaves drifting downstream. She swam through the waves and tossed water toward Eric and played happily for some minutes until he swam directly for her and captured her by the legs. Holding her tightly, his hands took an expedition about her body, fondling her everywhere it felt pleasing and everywhere he shouldn’t have been. They kissed full-mouthed far longer than the tentative kiss days before.

When he finally pulled her from the water, they collapsed to the beach and began making love, all the while Patricia knowing that she had to stop. This wasn’t George, this was a ne’er-do-well scoundrel who wanted her for nothing but her hot crotch. Still, she wasn’t pulling away: not as he combed her breasts with his mouth and licked salt water from them with his tongue; not when his hands found the warmth between her thighs and the wet hole at the center; not when his naked hips pulled on top of her and his c**k thrust deep between that glorious womanly divide.

In the back of her mind, she was thinking of George, wishing that it was her husband in Eric’s place. The more the young man’s hips moved against her, the more she hurt with her ass pressed into the hard sand beneath her. Despite the lovely orgasmic feelings, she was about to push the young man out when their s*x was suddenly interrupted by a startled voice.

“Patricia, is that you!” she heard the gruff-sounding voice of Derek Montgomery shock her back to reality. Eric quickly fell off her body into the sand beside her.

“Oh, my,” she shot up realizing that she had nothing to cover her nakedness. Seeing Eric’s p***s still bobbing erect she was mortified.

Hurriedly dashing toward the rocks to find her dress, she hoped that the intruder would have the sense to retreat at the invasion of their privacy, but instead Derek Montgomery strode forward to confront her.

“Young lady, might I remind you that you’re a married woman,” he said.

Patricia gulped. Meanwhile, catching the drift of the conversation, Eric retreated to find his clothes and soon disappeared into the night, leaving her alone with the furious hotel proprietor.

“Yes, sir,” Patricia replied meekly.

“And yet you were having s*x with another man!” He still looked aghast. “Right here on my beach!”

“I’m afraid I was,” she answered.

“The idea, fornicating for God and the world to see. Flaunting yourself naked. This is a respectable resort not a bordello!” The more he spoke the more furious he became. “Do you have any idea what George is going to say when he finds out?”

“You won’t tell him, will you?” Patricia exclaimed.

“I most certainly will. You’re not going compound this flagrant affair by lying to your husband.”

“I suppose not.” She felt so ashamed.

He stared at her for some time, smoldering. She could see the gears in his brain moving and she was afraid of what he’d say next. “Just for good measure, I think you might as well lift that skirt of yours.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Mrs. Adams, George gave me the authority to deal with any misbehavior. Since you’re accustomed to corporal punishment, a good thrashing is in order. And that’s exactly what you’re going to get.”

“But, please, sir. You will tell George and I know he’ll spank me. Must you too?”

“I’ve always believed in timely punishment. I certainly wouldn’t want you to forget your lesson before your husband returns.”

“Oh, certainly, I will not!”

“Perhaps. But I’d rather do my duty.” With that the unyielding Derek Montgomery disappeared into the fringe of the woods where he plucked a slender branch from a tree. Stripping away all its leaves, he returned with it gripped in his fist.

“You know the ritual, Patricia,” he said. “Bare your ass.”

Humiliated and subdued, Patricia obeyed the stern-faced man. Turning about, she bent over placing her hands on a rock for balance. The thought of the switch slicing her behind was too much for her to bear. She would have rather have George’s belt, the paddle, his hand, a razor strap, anything, as endure this thin shoot cutting her to shreds.

She had to give Derek Montgomery credit, he was swift and thorough. Making no apologies for the ruthless reprisal, he laid the switch against her moonlit globes two dozen times—an extreme punishment she would think, though she hardly thought a thing until the reparation for her offense was over.

The switch burned hot into her flesh from the first stroke to the last. There was not one waver, not one cut lighter or harder than the others were. They were all laid on with the same steady force by a man that must have been used to punishing misbehaving derrieres.

Patricia moaned at the start and screamed in agony by the end. Her ass on fire, the two mounds wriggled like jelly, with each stripe making a sure and welted line in her delicate skin. Her feet danced beneath her in the sand as though she was walking on hot coals, though the fire was hardly in the bottom of her feet.

As much as she twisted and jumped however, the cuts found new territory to gnash, and Patricia was inspired to resume her submissive position without the gyrations. The last half dozen cuts, she took remaining firmly posed bent over, recoiling with each strike of the switch but steady to the end. She let her cries speak for her and they turned into a righteous wail.

When Derek tossed the used implement at her she slumped to the ground.

“Pick it up and hold it,” he ordered.

For a moment, she gazed at the splintered branch of wood, cringing at the thought of touching it.

“Pick it up,” he said.

She followed the order, feeling the heat in the implement, surprised by the way it generated such a wicked jolt to her wounded body.

“You take that to your room, Mrs. Adams. Lay it out where you can see it every day. Until George returns, you’ll be reminded what happens to women who cheat on their husbands.”

“Yes, sir,” she said meekly, thinking this turn as horrible as the thrashing itself. To have to look at the mangled thing would only compound her guilt. And that guilt would only be assuaged when she faced her husband.

“You will not want to sunbathe in your bikini for a few days until your bottom heals, but at least you’ll remember your place,” Derek added. “Now you march right back to your cottage and stay there until morning. I just might confine you to your room until your husband returns. Just be glad I don’t take your sorry, naked behind into the hotel so you can parade your misdeed before the guests.” He glared at her as though he’d have no problem starting in again. Then turning about, he strode off through the woods.

Returning to her cottage, Patricia inspected her wounds in the mirror. She found them less stunning than she expected. Though with the fattest flesh of her bottom having borne the brunt of the punishment, the evidence was hard to miss. There were several lines, crisscrossed and swollen, burnished into the skin. It might be several days before she could touch herself there and not wince.

Following orders, Patricia placed the switch across the top of her bureau. Seeing all the life beaten out of the tender branch, she felt as withered and used at it appeared. Derek was a clever disciplinarian. He knew full well that she’d be haunted, probably obsessed by the dastardly thing. She could just imagine George eyeing it, and becoming roused enough to use it on her bottom again. Her whole body flinched at the thought.

***

After a few days keeping quiet in her cottage, Patricia finally ventured outside again, glad to see that Derek Montgomery’s demeanor had lightened and he was not going to chastise her again. A week after the incident, she was sunning by the pool, still not adventurous enough to wear her brief bikini.