Hiking in the Springs

By SusanSelton.

Every woman at the hot spring laughed at the young man’s micropenis, and it was all that I could do to refrain from laughing myself. It was barely two inches long, too small to satisfy any woman, and I wondered if it could even ejaculate.

It was the most risible thing I had ever seen, and I questioned why a young man with such a pathetically small penis would humiliate himself in public at a location that attracts so many women.

Otherwise, the boy had a pleasant appearance—a good-looking face and muscular build—with downy soft skin, clean shaven of all bodily hair. He had a child-like quality to him, so I think of him as a boy, but he was likely in his mid-twenties. And there he sat, alone and naked, in the coolest of the three pools.

He was sexy, and any woman could scoop him up, I thought—and if she could motivate his ‘miniature member,’ she would have a real catch.

For several months, I had heard the salacious stories about ‘Stubby’—the name that all the women in my hiking club use when talking about him. “That boy needs a woman to take charge of him,” Caroline commented. “Someone who will take ownership of that little stub.”

“You could fit it into the daintiest teacup,” Brenda cruelly added, motioning with her fingers, “and still have room for cream and sugar. I bet that I could completely hold it in one clenched fist, but how much work would it take to get it to do anything?”

“It definitely needs a woman’s touch,” Angela surmised—and all the women laughed.

Yes, the women laughed and laughed. Because what could be funnier than a boy with a small penis? (Only a boy with a small penis who displays it publicly, I suppose.)

Altogether there were several dozen women in the hiking club, most in their forties or fifties, and this was the only spot where any had ever seen Stubby. There are several hot springs in this general area. However—ten miles this way, five miles that way, but as this hot spring is the easiest of the hikes, it is also the most popular destination.

On this weekend, the hot spring attracted fifty or so people, mostly women.

The trailhead to the hot spring is adjacent to a paved parking lot. First traversing under the highway, the 5.8-mile loop leads down a broad alluvial plane across the desert that funnels into a narrow slot canyon, which winds its way to the river. From the river, the trail circles to the south, then up a different slot canyon—equally narrow, then up a metal ladder to first enter the coolest of the three pools.

The warmest of the pools is roughly 110°F and is the favored relaxation spot for weary hikers having made the arduous trek. Given my competitive nature, I led the single file of ladies in our group for most of the hike – a hike into a wilderness of rough rocks and jagged cliffs that, despite having been subjugated to eons of scorching sun and flash floods, can still cut unwary skin.

Nature is raw and unambiguous, and we often lose sight of this fact.

The news I had heard about Stubby piqued my interest, and when I signed up for this hike, I thought about what it would be like to see this spectacle for myself finally. “It’s laughable how small it is” was on every woman’s lips. At the top of the ladder, stepping into the coolest of the three pools, I first laid my eyes upon Stubby.

It was as small as every woman said, and my first thought was that I’d like to play with that tiny todger to see if I could make it get any bigger. I mean, he wasn’t an unattractive boy and other than possessing genitalia the size and dimensions of an acorn, I found him sexy.

Sexy and naked—and on display for all the world to see.

One by one, each of us passed Stubby, and other than me, every woman in our group broke out in uncontrollable laughter—often right in front of the boy. “I wonder if that’s as big as it gets,” snickered Mylene, who, like me, was also seeing it for the first time. Walking through the three pools, we arrived at an area that offered privacy, where we ladies changed into our swimwear, and then we returned to the warmest pool for a long soak.

The water’s unwavering heat stung my skin, and sinking deeper, I took a series of unsteady breaths. Nature is confrontational, I was reminded, and when we insert ourselves in its realm, we participate in this dialectic—although so often, we unsuccessfully try to tame it.

Eventually, my breathing stabilized, and I started to relax.

I had been told that the hot spring attracts the occasional naked man but never naked women. The ladies in our group all wore one-piece swimwear; mine had a colorful floral pattern against an otherwise black fabric, providing me a slimmer appearance – because a woman never knows when she’ll meet a man.

For the rest of the afternoon, much of the conversation pertained to Stubby and how ridiculously small his penis is.

The ladies were universally derisive in their commentary of Stubby’s ‘pint-sized pecker.’ Unlike the other women, however, I was determined that I could make it long and hard—although I privately kept these thoughts to myself.

He would be an easy target—just sit next to him and every so often brush up against his naked body. Maybe offer him a back massage. Let my hands do a little wandering. Under the water’s surface, no one would see unless they were walking past us at that very moment while I was doing it to this boy – and they would witness my complete mastery over his burgeoning member.

First, I would let my touching get more consistent and move my hand closer to its target. I would also start kissing him, probably on the neck. One peck after another. I wouldn’t stop. “You don’t mind if I touch it, do you?” is never met with a “no.” Or simply start in without saying a word. Either way, I would be gentle and persistent.

Unlike women, boys don’t require a reason or an explanation for sex. Yes, I would definitely do it to him, and undoubtedly, he would like it.

What boy doesn’t like a hand job?

Sure, he’s awfully young, but what woman wants an OLD man? For the longest time, I’ve toyed with the idea of becoming a full-fledged Cougar rather than dabbling here and there with one boy or another every so often. A boy his age would have so much energy and stamina. Stubby would be a challenge—to be certain, considering what little he’s working with, but when successful I would have a real catch.

‘A woman to take charge of him – to take control over that little stub.’

The arid desert climate plays tricks with my libido and inhibitions, and all I could think about was getting handsy with the boy’s miniature wiener. And what would be so bad about someone seeing us? The boy is very good-looking, and his sexuality is already on public display.

The ladies in the hiking group wouldn’t mind watching him writhe and squirm while battling it out between mounting desire and ‘just-out-of-reach’ pleasure. With proper planning, fifty women could be assembled at the hot spring to watch Stubby publicly subjected to the best hand job of his life before so many female eyes.

Once I started, would he be able to resist what would lead to his release? Could any boy? My experience is that boys universally like hand jobs, and I like giving them. With extraordinarily little effort, a woman can completely control a boy, determining if and when her ‘little plaything’ receives the physical gratification that his body demands.

Reduced to a warm pile of goo.

Angela was right: this boy definitely needs a woman’s touch. Brenda, Caroline, and the other ladies wouldn’t mind watching. I can only imagine their laughter. The entire club might turn out for a show like this. The women would laugh and laugh.

A boy was getting a public hand job.

The following weekend, I returned to the hot spring, obviously looking forward to seeing Stubby again, this time to chat him up. I made the hike without the Ladies Hiking Group, and in anticipation of spending time alone with Stubby, I selected one-piece swimwear just a bit more daring—one with push-up pads and a scrunched bottom.

I think that I am attractive for my age—frosty hair and a fit, shapely figure. I am certainly active, hiking nearly every weekend, watching what I eat, and exercising regularly. Young men still turn their heads when I walk by. I did not doubt that I could make Stubby, well, ‘responsive.’

So down one slot canyon, I hiked, then up the other slot canyon—and finally up the ladder I climbed. There was Stubby, again sitting alone in the coolest pool, completely naked and looking sexy as hell.

“I believe that I spotted you here last week, but I didn’t have the chance to speak with you. I was with a group of ladies—a hiking club. Save me a seat on that sandbag where you’re sitting, and I’ll join you if that’s alright.”

I headed straightaway to the changing area without giving Stubby a chance to respond.

So after squeezing into my flirty swimsuit and applying lip gloss—although who the hell wears lip gloss at a hot spring?—I returned to the naked boy and sat myself thigh to thigh with him, the water level reaching only halfway up his chest but all the way to my neck.

The boy’s expression was blank, and I didn’t know if this was going well or poorly. I also wondered if I should mention that I see that he’s naked—or act like I hadn’t noticed. Regardless, smiling brightly, I decided that I wouldn’t leave Stubby’s side until he sported an erection lengthy enough to penetrate a woman. Or, more specifically, lengthy enough to penetrate ME.

“You look awfully comfortable,” I said—having thought through this opening line an entire week. “The ladies in my club commented on how handsome you are, and I agree—you are a very good-looking boy. What should a woman know about you?”

Looking down, he stammered with his words, saying something about how he likes hiking and swimming and ‘being in nature.’ Considering that Stubby possessed no visible tan lines, I presumed that he was something of a naturalist and spent a good deal of his time outdoors, bereft of any clothing. As a naturalist, he would be resourceful, I reflected, familiar with native plants and quite self-sufficient in the wild.

Among other things, the boy could keep me safe, and I found that sexy.

And with a body as desirable as his, any clothing at all is doing women everywhere a disservice. We ladies like to look, albeit discretely, and a boy like this belongs ‘in nature.’ All Stubby requires is a new penis—one appropriately fitted for his muscular body.

Or a woman who would work with him to develop what he has.

“I like hiking too,” I gushed, then I rattled off the other hot springs in the area, and that although they are reached through more difficult hikes, they are worth the effort. “Not so many people there,” I added with a wink.

Eventually, my monologue turned into a two-person conversation.

I learned that Stubby was born out of state and only moved here five years ago. He was evasive about where he worked, but he alluded that it had something to do with software and that he could pretty much set his schedule. Several times during our chat, I reached out under the water’s surface to take hold of his hand, and more than once, I rubbed my hand up and down his bare thigh, resting it there for a moment.

I did my best to make my touches look natural. Stubby bristled at each and every one, but despite many discrete glances sent his way, I noted that the boy didn’t ‘respond’ as I had hoped.

Altogether we spent two hours together, side by side.

“I’m planning on returning this Tuesday,” I coolly offered, resting my hand back on the boy’s bare thigh once again but wanting so much to slide it between his legs. Somehow. I restrained myself and looking back on the situation, I really don’t know why I hesitated. “There should be no one here on a Tuesday—maybe I’ll see you here. If so, perhaps I can talk you into sitting with me in the warmest pool. Just you and me.”

“I would like that.”

I continued caressing Stubby’s bare thigh, looking him straight in the eyes. “I would like that also,” I replied. “Oh, my name is Eileen. I should have told you this earlier.”

We bid goodbye with a hug; then, I spontaneously pecked him on the cheek.


Relaxing in the spa at my condo complex on Monday evening, bombarded by bubbles that did their best to stimulate every part of my womanly body all at once, and accompanied with a second glass of wine—surreptitiously disguised as an oversized bottle of diet cola, I wondered what I was doing pursuing a boy with a micropenis when my vagina is as lonely as the crew of a one-man submarine. Realizing that I was running my hands up and down the stiff contours of the plastic bottle only made further mockery of my situation.

Warm water stirred my passions, and I hoped that none of my neighbors were watching me.

Stubby is many years my junior, isn’t pursuing me, and didn’t have the good manners to give me his name when we met, even after I first provided him with mine. Moreover, he exposes himself publicly—sitting naked in a desert hot spring where women constantly berate the size of his micro-wiener, which admittedly is laughably tiny.

A hot spring that plays with my libido like a rag doll but somehow doesn’t affect him one bit.

And two hours of preening and ‘getting handsy’ with him didn’t bring the boy any closer to getting an erection. Nor did I seductively lick the tip of my water bottle repeatedly or adjust the coverage of my top. The boy was entirely naked, sitting at my side for two hours. Is it too much to ask for a naked boy at the apex of his sexuality to sport a stiffy for a woman who is also at the apex of her sexuality?

What was I thinking? What can this boy possibly offer me? Stubby is a pathetic boy, shameless, and is clearly too small ever to satisfy any woman. Certainly, he’s too small to satisfy ME. Would I ever want to run the risk of being seen again with him in public? It’s also probably too much to ask a boy who goes naked in public to demonstrate good manners.

When we said goodbye, oh how I wanted to slide my adventurous hands down that boy’s muscular chest to play with his little acorn that I imagined would soon grow into a mighty oak. To coax his miniature member to adult status. I could have toyed with that tiny todger all afternoon—to make him grow to respectable dimensions.

Something so large that it would make other women jealous while fulfilling my unmet womanly needs. Yes, I have womanly needs.

The bubbles still had another twenty minutes to go, and at the rate I was going with this wine, I wondered if I might polish off the whole box tonight. I caught myself running the tip of my finger over the opening of the plastic soda bottle, around and around, then up and down the contour of the bottle’s side. “I’m out of batteries,” I remembered, looking down at the water’s choppy surface, “but oh, what I wouldn’t give for a submarine to come around these bubbly waters right about now.”

Ashamed, I hoped that none of my neighbors were watching me.

“Otherwise,” I thought, “the boy has a good-looking face and a sexy body, and if I was to go ‘all in’ and make myself a fully-fledged Cougar with this boy, how am I supposed to answer the question—how did the two of you meet?”

What would people say? Single women indeed keep other women single., given our chilly nature. They laughed at him; they can laugh at him again. It would serve him right if I jerked him off in front of a hundred women. I wouldn’t stop ‘working it’ until the boy ejaculated, no matter how long it took me or who was watching.

“So you like being naked in front of so many women? How about if I started in on a hand job – one that is probably long overdue – with all these women watching? Would you have any shame? Would you push my hands away, or would you be unable to resist the pleasure mounting in that little wiener of yours? We both know the answer to that. Brenda, Caroline, Mylene, and Angela—all the ladies, in fact, would laugh and laugh at you.”

Public shows like this should be put on all the time—naked boys jerked to the point of forced ejaculation in front of so many cold, jeering women.

But with the final swig of wine came a new perspective, and I began to consider what Stubby wanted from this relationship. Sure, we just met, but inasmuch as this could become a lasting relationship, I should probably start thinking of Stubby in those terms.

And now the plastic bottle was empty.

Obviously, Stubby wanted a hand job—because EVERY boy wants a hand job, and hand jobs are so easy for a woman to master. I know a thing or two about hand jobs, and the secret to mastering them is that there can’t be any shame associated with them. The woman has to enjoy giving them, and she should perform them regularly – regardless of the boy, or more commonly, boys.

In my twenties, I handed out hand jobs to cute boys like they were candy. They hook in a boy, and no matter when—and sometimes no matter where boys always welcome a hand job. “I have something I want to give you” is the only explanation a boy is ever offered.

‘It’s the journey, not the destination’ is what we women tell each other. For boys, it’s all about reaching the destination—but ladies keep their journey a bit unpredictable—and any woman who carries lubricant and extra hand tissue in her purse will always have a boyfriend.

Yes, I know a thing or two about hand jobs.

Moreover, a second glass of wine nearly plays havoc on my libido, as does soaking in hot water in the arid desert climate. It’s funny how I got older, but now I am contemplating giving a hand job to a boy the same age as I did at first, this time in a public setting, and I have yet to learn his name.

I always liked giving hand jobs; I admit it. The feeling of power is intoxicating—completely controlling a boy’s sexual climax and release. “Oooooh, look how big you’re getting.” For first-timers, there’s the psychological game of getting into their heads—building a scenario to feed their imaginations. Not that boys need a scenario; they need a hand job, then another, and then another, and I was overdue in giving these.

Regardless, I had a strategy in mind for Stubby.

Mid-morning on Tuesday I arrived at the parking lot adjacent to the trailhead, finding just one other vehicle parked there. Making the hike to the hot spring and finally stepping through the coolest pool, I detected a noise emanating from the direction of the warmest pool. Then I heard, “Eileen, is that you?”

“Good morning, sweetie,” I said toward the warmest pool. As I rounded the corner of the upper cavern and entered it, Stubby was standing up, the water only at mid-thigh. “It’s so good to see you, sweetie. Give me a minute in the changing area, won’t you?”

Plopping myself beside him and fully aware that, when wet, my white swimwear would become a bit translucent, I lifted his arm and put it around me, turning my body toward his.

I was about to make out with a naked boy in a public place where, at any moment, someone could walk in on us. “The water is so hot,” I exclaimed wildly before proceeding to kiss him several times on the lips. Tender kisses—the kind that leaves a boy wanting more. Interlacing my fingers with his, I isolated his fingers – and, one by one slid my fingertips up and down his long fingers.

It was all so romantic and equally erotic. Why shouldn’t nature be erotic when eroticism is a byproduct of sex, which itself is natural?

In meeting Stubby ‘in nature,’ I felt as though I had stumbled into an Eveless paradise, and of course, with a desire to try to tame it, or him rather, as the boy personifies nature. The society also has a symbiotic relationship with nature, being both a derivative and simultaneously at cross purposes – an economy of contradictory forces, a battle, that keep each other in check.

My hands worked their way to Stubby’s hips, then to his thighs, and back to his chest. I was an octopus, but I carefully avoided touching his penis. I repeatedly squeezed his ass and expected that he would grab mine in return. But other than Stubby’s breathing rate increasing, he otherwise remained unmoved—the boy was completely submissive to me.

It was the perfect setting, the perfect moment, the perfect everything. I could do anything I wanted with this boy’s naked body – tame the wild animal. My challenge was to grow his penis larger than it had ever been, then guide it in, meeting those womanly needs. Best to add a little unpredictability to this journey.

And if he likes to play the part of the submissive, we can go there. Time to keep my nature boy in check.

I grabbed him by the wrists. “You have the perfect body,” I beckoned, looking him straight in the eyes. I gave the boy an icy stare. Between my words, I kissed him randomly across his face. “I could make love to you all day, sweetie,” I whispered. “I only wish that the ladies in my hiking club were here to watch you.” I then recounted the names of the ladies, one by one, between kisses. “Imagine fifty women watching you and all the things they’d like to do to you.”

This boy possessed the perfect sexy body, and I was all over it—other than for his penis. Occasionally, my forearm glanced over it, or maybe the next time, it was my elbow. Better to tease him by ignoring the body part that boys so desperately want to be stimulated and only touching it by ‘accident.’ He would get his hand job soon enough. Let’s run a detour or two before we drive on to that beloved destination.

“You would be helpless with so many women watching you, and they would all want your penis. You’re going to make it big for me, aren’t you?” I ran my hands up and down his torso, then back over his hips.

“Baby, I want to give you something,” I finally said—as I forcibly grasped his penis. Under my initial squeeze – and it was sharp – the boy began to stiffen up, and I was still hoping to guide it in. But after several minutes of steady stroking, it wasn’t much larger than when I started. Slowing my pace, I teased, “I’m in no hurry—and apparently, neither are you.”

Then, another harsh squeeze.

We went back and forth, faster than slower, until I sensed that he was getting close. At that point, I stopped entirely and then proceeded to kiss him again—sweet pecks on the lips. This time, he kissed back. “Every woman will be watching you.”

The hot water continued working its magic on my body, and one by one, I recounted the names of the ladies in the hiking club again, between another barrage of kisses. “Imagine all the things these ladies would like to do to you – every last one of them: Brenda, Angela, Mylene, Patricia, Caroline…especially Caroline.” I reinitiated a faster pace of stroking until I felt that he was getting close again but not getting any larger.

“You’re helpless, naked boy. All the women are watching you, and you’re unable to resist.” I continued the stroking – and the kissing.

It was evident that Stubby was doomed to go through life with a tiny penis, and I would never get my penetrative vaginal sex from this boy. Regardless, there should never be any shame associated with hand jobs, and as I felt that he was about to let go, I finished him off.

Then suddenly, Stubby’s tender kisses turned into passionate French kissing—the boy’s tongue extended down my throat in a relentless quest to go as deep as possible. I could hardly breathe. The boy was climaxing and positively insatiable.

It was a long, muscular tongue, and at this point, I realized that Stubby didn’t need to have a large penis in order for me to get the consistent penetrative vaginal sex I wanted and to meet those womanly needs.


No man had ever before pleasured my vagina with his mouth and tongue, but today, I told myself, this would all change—and now I wanted cunnilingus in the worst feasible way.

I waited in the shallow pool near the river, a small backwater removed from the main current, for my twenty-something partner to meet me. This was our pre-determined meeting spot. The water was warm, and its gentle but persistent touches loosened up my muscles after such an exhausting hike. I regard this as the most romantic hike in the region; nearly all of the hikers I encountered on the trail were paired off in twos.

Like the other hot springs, this location is quite romantic, as well as erotic.

I would rather that Stubby had accompanied me on the hike. Rappelling down seven short ropes and scrambling over large boulders past a hot spring to the mouth of the canyon provides multiple opportunities for the occasional game of grab-ass. This hike facilitates the foreplay that promotes what couples frequently consummate when at the river’s edge—thoughtless of who might be watching.

The warm water worked its magic on my trigger-happy libido. My clothing remained intact, but oh yeah, I was ready for sex, and I was ready for Stubby.

Then, under a cloudless sky, the boy emerged from the river like a Greek deity, walking my way in his natural beauty—entirely naked for all the world to see. Carrying nothing and wearing nothing, as if entering the world for the first time, the boy lacked any sense of shame.

Why should penetrative vaginal sex only be performed by a long erect penis? Sadly, Stubby was endowed with a micropenis, but he also possessed a long, muscular tongue—insatiable in its desire to ‘go deep.’ And ‘go deep’ is exactly what I had in mind.

The boy also knew how to make an entrance.

“Hello. I brought a large blanket for us to share. I also have some food.”

I laid out the blanket, and Stubby sprawled out, lying on his side. He’s well over six feet tall, I reckoned. I am practically a waif when next to him.

“Are the ladies in your hiking club here, or are you alone?”

“I made the hike alone—but who knows how many people are watching us right now.”

We were on a beach, after all, on the shore of a river, and would any prying eyes venture to ogle the escapades of a clothed woman and her naked boy romping around on a blanket?

Pulling his strong arms around me, I couldn’t stop kissing Stubby, my mysterious nature boy. One of my hands quickly made it to his penis, and for the longest time, we didn’t exchange a single word. Nor did the boy kiss me in return.

He was a wilderness to be conquered, to be tamed. Then, out of the blue, Stubby blurted out, “It’s tiny, isn’t it?”

What is a woman to say? ‘Yes, your penis is so pathetically small that it wouldn’t satisfy any woman anywhere?’ How does one politely broach the subject? Or ‘I prefer boys with small penises,’ a statement which is equally damning for both of us. Best to play it dumb.

“What do you mean?”

At first, the boy hesitated. “Eileen, I have a small cock.” Then silence. Lots and lots of silence.

“You don’t mind that I play with it, do you?”

“No,” Stubby insisted. “I like it very much when you play with it—but it’s awfully small. Don’t you think so?”

“It’s small,” I replied. Then, in an unguarded moment, I said, “It’s really small.”

“Tell me how small it is.”

Throughout our dialogue, I continued playing with it. Caressing it. Teasing it. Sure, it firmed up, but its size didn’t change much. Maybe it grew to four inches. This wasn’t a hand job—it was ‘playtime.’ It appeared to me that Stubby wanted me to deride the size of his penis the way that other women do.

I added a little more lubricant because, after all, I intended to play with it all day. Stubby knew that he would get his hand job—that was a given—but he had no idea how many detours or roadblocks he would encounter.

“Your penis is too small to satisfy any woman,” I derisively offered. “The women laugh at you. They laugh at you and your small penis. I’m going to jerk you off right now, and women are watching. They’re watching you and your small penis. They’re laughing at you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Stubby was close to ejaculating, and he would have it, eventually, but now it was MY turn—not his. And I wanted it in the worst conceivable way. I got it several times that afternoon, in fact. On a blanket on the banks of a river. Under the sun on a cloudless day. For all the world to see.


The next time I met up with Stubby was a week later, at the trailhead to a reclusive warm-water inlet that the lady’s hiking club stumbled upon one day, not far from another hot spring. We hiked together from the trailhead, and it was the first and only time I ever saw him wearing clothes, which the boy immediately removed once we reached the water. I spread out the blanket, and we lay together, just as before.

Stubby was naked, and I remained clothed—playing with his micropenis while mocking its size and efficacy.

“A penis this small is only good for ‘playtime’—don’t you think? I mean, why would a woman ever let it ejaculate? I’ll play with it, sweetie, but you don’t expect me to jerk it off, do you?”

I quit thinking it unusual that Stubby never told me his name and that I knew extraordinarily little about this boy. For his part, the boy never asked any personal questions of me either. He was a blank slate, a wild beast of nature upon which I could project any fantasy imaginable, an empty canvas, and that was good enough to stir my meandering female fantasies.

I considered it best not to ask questions.

The boy was an incarnation of nature; we women seek to impose a set of social norms on what is wild and civility in a natural setting, but it’s the wilderness that attracts us.

My relationships with age-appropriate men came to a standstill over a decade ago. Brenda and the other ladies in the hiking club report the same results. Men ignore women our age, so a-hiking we shall go. Meeting Stubby broke the monotony and added oral sex to the mix—something that I started liking in the worst conceivable way and that every woman should enjoy.

Stubby once again told me about his wishes that I join him at the Grotto, which I understood to be an adults-only pool in the city. “It’s filled with men and a few women like yourself.” Peculiar for a nature boy like Stubby to be involved with anything urban, but so what?

A couple of kayaks ventured into our reclusive river inlet and their paddlers were briefly treated to the escapades of Stubby and me, romping on our blanket. Stubby and I discussed the possibility of the two of us taking a three-day kayaking trip, starting just below the dam and making our way toward a wind-swept lake.

“Plenty of opportunities for ‘playtime,'” I cooed, “and maybe your little todger will get the release it requires. Or maybe not.”

I likewise knew that my needs were going to be met this afternoon, lying on a blanket at the shores of a reclusive warm water inlet, again under the full sun of a cloudless day, for all the world to see.


The End?


*This story has been edited by AI to fix spelling, punctuation, formatting errors, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Even with the limited editing done here, it doesn’t mean any possible major flaws in this story were fixed (That’s the author’s job). The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story has been previously published on other free sites and is now public domain, which is why we can publish it here.


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