Letter from the Rocky Mountains

Dear Shoeblossom

Men call me a tease. I guess I come by it naturally. I love getting guys in trouble. I remember when I was about nineteen or twenty, getting to know my new stepbrother.

Mom had married a fire-and-brimstone preacher type, he was rich, and I think later she got sick of him monitoring her TV time and then she took him for a lot of cash.

But his son, Peter was a nice guy, kind of shy. His dad was trying to get Peter to go to divinity school. Peter, at twenty-two, had just finished up at Bible college, and he was supposed to go off to learn to be a minister in the fall.

We were sitting in the living room, and I was resplendent, as always, in a little crop top and short-shorts, and sling back heels...and I began talking to my new stepbrother, and I finally got him so close to me that he was breathing on my tits.

Then I remember I told him he could give me a massage, and when his Dad walked in, I screamed "Peter's touching me!"

And my new stepfather grabbed Peter by the collar and dragged down his pants and tightie whities, and gave Peter about twenty with his belt, and told Peter he was a "most impure boy."

I also got the Disciplinary Dean of my college fired and arrested for improprieties, and played hell with a couple of male bosses...I'm that kind of gal!

But fast forward a bit...

Some months ago, I was hiking, on a backpacking trip with my best friend Puffin Giacometti.

Two girls roughing it, though we did bring our Iphones and a portable television.

So we're going along and we run into about five people. There were two couples, clearly and one woman and then there was this guy, but the man was naked!

So I guess there were three couples? Five of which were clothed, and then Nature Lad.

I try not to judge.

The woman walking up front with the naked dude smiled at us. She was a cute little thing, had a pixie cut, ash blonde hair. Very petite.

"Hey, great hiking isn't it? Lovely weather, huh?"

Maybe she was starting a friendly conversation to put us at ease about the streaker, right?

The naked guy was staring at Puffin, who is quite a dish. He was getting way aroused.

One of the other girls, a perky brunette noticed this and I saw her drop her rucksack, and take out a small pen-knife and she cut a switch from a nearby bramble bush.

The girl with the switch walked over to the freak...she was pissed.

"What's wrong, Sylvan?" She whacked him across the chest.

"You having a good time creeping on that poor girl?" She whacked him again.

"Look at your sweaty penis!" She whacked his dick, and he began jumping up and down in pain, the bramble switch was a little thorny.

I thought Sylvan would try to grab his dick, but apparently his hands were tied behind his back.

The girl gave Sylvan a big kiss, suddenly, and she began toying with his burgeoning cock. "I know what you want, baby...you like girls, but you are soooo frustrated."

She stroked his penis faster and kissed his neck, and almost involuntarily, he rubbed up against her crotch.

She danced away, letting go of his penis, and she picked up the switch again

WHACK! THWACK! SMACK!

Sylvan backed off in acute pain.

I just couldn't take my eyes off this weirdness.

The woman with the pixie cut went to Sylvan. "Lookie Sylvan. I put on my gloves and picked some nettles...these will wake you up."

She raked Sylvan's dick with the nettles and he screamed again.

But she gave him a lingering kiss also, and his dick got harder, and then the first girl

came back at him with the switch.

After one particularly violent swat on his suffering member, Girl #1, who was almost as tall as Sylvan, closed her smooth thighs (her hiking shorts were VERY short) over Sylvan's cock.

"You like that, Sylvan?" she breathed with a smile. "You are always checking out my legs, and now you can fuck them a little..."

Sylvan moved his dick in and out of her smooth thighs, and he looked happy again.

"See, how nice and soothing that is, baby? " But, as Sylvan's eyes closed in bliss, she pulled off his dick once more, and the young lady resumed operations with the cruel thorny switch.

Sylvan was wearing hiking boots if nothing else, so his feet were protected, but this chick used the bramble branch all over the poor bastard, whaling away, leaving welts everywhere.

"You need something to focus on, you goddamned degenerate?"

WHACK! WHACK! THWACK!

Grabbing Sylvan by the ear, she forced his head down and used the branch on his ass until it was rather red and purple, very blotchy.

"Signe, please calm down." Sylvan was pleading with her. If his hands were free, he could have flattened her with one blow. He was fairly ripped.

And then, incredibly, she used the knife to cut the knot tying his hands, and Sylvan dropped to his hands and knees in front of this bitch.

"You want something to do? Maynard's horny, aren't you, babe?" Signe turned around and touched a nearby young man on the chest.

"No-no please, I don't need to-"

"Oh yeah, Sylvan. When you start perving on some defenseless girl, it's time for your mouth to get busy. Remind you of the faggot you really are, deep down."

Maynard was a nice looking young man with a crew cut. He wasn't as big and strong as Sylvan, but still good looking and fairly together.

"You want your dick sucked, Maynard? Come on down!"

"Always, Signe, you bet." Maynard unzipped his fly and pulled out a long cock, almost like a half-smoke sausage.

Sylvan was on his knees, and he hesitated, but then Signe gave him some corporal encouragement from the rear, and he scurried on his hands and knees painfully to the young man's erection.

We watched in some kind of appalled fascination as Sylvan sucked the young man's penis, though it was clear both were you know, heterosexual.

Signe whacked Sylvan across the back and butt a few more times, screaming at him for his "prurient interests".

But finally Maynard asked her to cease and desist with the whipping, claiming it might cause Sylvan to bite his sensitive parts by accident.

Pretending none of this was going on, the woman talking to us approached just a little closer.

"I'm Vidalia. People call me Vidi, and the blowjob boy is our client, Sylvan, and that's Maynard, Signe's boyfriend, and Bernier, Maynard's sister, and the other guy is Madras."

"Uh, nice to meet you." Puffin managed to say. "I'm Puffin and this is Eatherly. You all seem like an eclectic group!"

Puffin and her ten-dollar words.

It is still unclear to me how, in the next five minutes, Puff was persuaded to camp with these people, and how I followed her dumbly.

They did have lots of food, and that is always a magnet, and Maynard and Madras were quite easy on the eyes. Actually, so was Sylvan, but there were all those collateral issues.

The group had big, beautiful tents, all that kind of thing. Puffin and I had hoped to do the kind of backpacking where you sleep under the stars, but there were some clouds in the sky, and after all, the tents Vidi had brought were huge.

Luxury has always been kind of a valued commodity with this girl!

So we sat on lawn chairs, all of us, except Sylvan, who, after swallowing Maynard's load had cleaned up and set to putting the fire together, getting kindling and all that sort of thing.

Stark naked, the guy made lunch, which I'm not sure was entirely sanitary.

But it was something else. Cornish hens and carrots, and quite unbelievable for two girls who basically had franks and beans in their knapsack.

As we ate, Sylvan knelt by the fire, his hands on his knees.

He basically couldn't take his eyes off Puffin's chest. But blessedly for Sylvan, Signe, who had a borderline hair-trigger temper, had become distracted by reading "Outside" magazine.

I think it's like Cosmo for chicks who don't shave under their armpits.

Puffin looked at me. "Eatherly, what do you think they meant by Sylvan being the 'Client' He's a friend of theirs, or is he paying for this kinky shit?"

Bernier, who was sitting near us, sipped her root beer and chuckled.

"Sylvan is this weekend's client. We take a different client up here every weekend from May through October, and if they have the bucks we can keep them through the week as well."

"Really?" I was sort of put off. "All summer you do this?"

"Sure. We are all artists, and have a communal gallery, and it doesn't survive on its own. And Madras and Signe also act in theater during the winter months, and you have to have some cash put away for that, you know."

"So you have people who actually hire you to bring them into the woods and mistreat them." This I found fairly hilarious.

Maynard, sitting across the fire, laughed. "Yeah, remember that old broad, looked like Kathy Griffin? I shoved a pinecone up her coochie?"

This was incredibly strange. Madras and Maynard were gorgeous men, but who would let a guy...

"But we're getting a real treat with Sylvan here. He's a professional chef. The old bag that Maynard referred to, she was skill free, for a state senator, but we did get her to erect a rock wall in Signe's back yard."

"But Sylvan is even better?" Puffin lit a joint and inhaled. I am not into drugs, especially weed, which makes one paranoid, but I couldn't blame her for needing some sort of artificial sustenance to handle this weirdness.

Bernier took the roach and Bogarted up a storm with it. "Yup, Sylvan is a professional chef, so we eat well in addition to getting paid for his uh, treatment."

Madras spoke now. "In the last three summers, we've had a Brazilian soccer star, two movie actors, the auxiliary bishop of Syracuse and a nursing school dean from one of the Seven Sisters. She was a real pain pig, that woman."

"What's a Seven Sister?" Puffin was sweet but not brilliant.

"It's a college that's real hard to get into, Puff."

"Damn." Puffin mused as she handed the joint to Madras. "You gotta work hard to get into a college, and then you study nursing? What a drag."

Bernier whistled, and Sylvan got up and walked to her and dropped to his knees again.

She handed Sylvan her plate. I noticed now that he hadn't eaten anything yet.

"Here, have the rest of this, sweetheart."

He gobbled the remnant of the Cornish hen and other detritus on the dish.

I noticed he did this with his mouth, not using hands or forks. I guess he had a doggie dish fetish or something.

This seemed to be an illuminating weekend!

"And one of our crew married a client she met here, a real celebrity." Signe said over her crappy granola magazine.

"Yeah, but it turns out Harriet's new husband isn't much of an earner, so she may have to come back here to work. He can be submissive and a househusband or something."

"What kind of celebrity was he?" Puffin asked.

"He's a talk show host. He did the "Stinson Salinger Financial Hour." but it's only cable access. Harriet beat the living shit out of him when she realized he'd conned her."

"Why doesn't she leave him?" I asked.

"Well, Stins is a nice guy, and I guess he's kind of grown on Harriet, who always said she'd never marry a poor guy, or a slave-boy either."

Maynard finished off Puffin's roach. "Yeah, if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans."

Vidalia had been on her cell phone and she clicked it off. "Next week we have Ibiza Ionnuci, guys."

"Really? I thought she was a famous kickboxing instructor. I think I have her tape." I said, confused.

"Yeah, you should see the tapes of Ibiza that we have." Maynard snickered.

After Sylvan was done eating, Bernier casually rubbed Sylvan's growing erection with her hiking boot.

"Signe was a little hard on our baby, wasn't she?"

Sylvan stared greedily at Bernier's heaving mounds in her snug tee shirt. The shirt advertised "Kentucky Fried Chicken"

I am not sure if he was horny, or still hungry.

Apparently Bernier was less literate than Vidalia, whose tee boasted "I'd rather be reading Jane Austen." Still, Bernier wore her proletarian tee with exuberant sensuality. Colonel Sanders would be proud.

Sylvan hung his head, probably just for show. It probably is judicious to look humble when you have some chick toying with your junk with her combat boot, right?

"Signe was right, Miss Bernier. I shouldn't have been objectifying our new friend."

Sylvan said this carefully, but his cock was now pointing to the sky, as Bernier's boot was kneading his balls.

Bernier giggled, and then she casually pushed Sylvan's cock into the dirt, where she ground it under her heel.

"We have to keep an eye on you, Sylvan."

Vidalia snorted. "You see, Puffin and Eatherly, Sylvan here lived with his mommy until he was almost forty years old."

Maynard chimed in. "Yup, Mommy kept Sylvan in diapers and frilly dresses at home, and gave him enemas to calm him down."

"And beta blockers so his voice wouldn't get all macho." giggled Signe.

Bernier jammed her heel further into Sylvan's swelling cock.

"Yes, when Sylvan tried to sneak out to talk to a girl, even at thirty-five, his mom would strip him down and whip him with a belt."

I thought of my poor stepbrother Peter...it began to arouse me.

"Sometimes " Bernie continued, "Sylvan's mom would invite the young lady who Sylvan wanted to court over to watch him being punished and humiliated, right Sylvie?"

Sylvan was blushing hotly, but his cock had never been more stiff.

"That's right, Miss Bernier."

Bernier winked at us. "Now Sylvan is mostly monitored by his younger sister, who went to grad school with me. She is a busy girl, though, so it helps her to send brother dear to hang out with our gang, as expensive as it is."

"Yes, these field trips keep Sylvan in line" Madras said as he swilled a Heineken.

Bernier smiled at Sylvan.

"You fancy yourself a bird-watching expert, do you Sylvan? I heard you bragging about it."

"Yes ma'am." Sylvan said proudly, though he was gasping from the heel action on his unfortunate penis.

"I am president of the Puget Sound Ornithologist's Society, you know."

"So sexy" Puff said sarcastically, but I think Sylvan totally missed it.

"Okay. I am looking at a bird. It has dark legs and a short, thin, dark bill and it's body is brown on top and white underneath, and reddish brown on the crown-"

"It's the semi palmated Western Sandpiper." Sylvan said with a confident grin.

"Okay, what kind of bird is that, then?" Bernier pointed a red nail upwards.

"Oh, that's a yellow-bellied-"

Bernier kicked Sylvan hard in the nuts. "You're yellow bellied. I think that's a blue jay."

"It's not, Miss Bernier. Blue Jays are native to-"

Bernier kicked him harder, and Sylvan's testicles were growing a little purple again, but his cock was stiffening

"Poor Sylvie-girl!" Bernier smiled sympathetically as he teared up from the brutal testicular assault.

"Tell these pretty ladies how much you paid for our three day weekend, Sylvan."

Grateful for a change of subject and a lapse in kicking, Sylvan smiled shakily at us.

"I paid ten thousand dollars, Mistress Puffin and Mistress Eather-"

Bernier kicked Sylvan again in the balls. "Stop looking at their tits. Jesus is that all you think about?"

Puffin smiled at Sylvan. "I guess you can tell I'm not wearing a bra, right Sylvan? My nipples are poking through this thin, hole-y shirt, right?"

As Sylvan gasped, Madras came over, followed by Maynard. "I know you're having a good time, Sylvan, but Maynard and I want to take you on an all-male nature walk, like we did yesterday."

Sylvan turned pale. Who knows what that entailed?

"Yeah, Sylvie loves the flora and fauna, don't you little bitch!"

As Maynard said "Bitch" he cuffed Sylvan across the back of the head.

I noticed though, that Sylvan's cock, now briefly free from Bernier's boot, was dripping with pre-cum.

"Lutetia, Sylvan's sister, told me that he really needs that male bonding. She even gave me a Daisy BB pistol to make him dance." Maynard said, smiling.

Puffin smiled up at the guys. She waved Sylvan over and Sylvan shuffled on his knees to Puff, looking grateful and just a little relieved.

Later, Puff told me that she had a cousin-in-law or something who was in a chastity cage, or went through "chastity training" or some shit. But she knew how to handle this!

And Puff is a hot girl. Curly hair, enormous eyes, Lips that look like mating eels, they're so thick. She giggles, and is almost drowned in men.

I mostly follow her for the overflow!

She kissed Sylvan gently. Two or three times, until her lip gloss stained his face.

"Don't be mean to poor Sylvan" Puffin purred, looking up at the grinning males. "Don't make him go on a walk with you."

She stroked Sylvan's cheek. "You don't want to go off with the nasty old men, do you, baby?"

Sylvan shook his head. Puffin kissed him again.

Puffin began stroking Sylvan's cock and he stiffened considerably. She played her fingertips under his swelling ridge, and his dick got thicker and harder.

"You poor thing. They are so hard on you, honey."

Puffin gave Sylvan a neck hickey and he gasped, trying to push his dick into her nimble fingers.

"Looks like the rest of us can take the afternoon off" Bernier said, smiling.

"Eatherly and I think you're cute, don't we, Etty?" Puff looked at me significantly and I shrugged and began petting the poor man's bloated balls.

"It's terrible what Bernie-baby told us. You must miss your mommy, right Sylvan?" My honey tones had improved much since I'd teased my poor, loser step-brother.

"Yes, your Mommy used to dress you up like Shirley Temple from the old movies? And whip your naughty bottom when you tried to go out and be a real boy, didn't she?"

Puffin laughed as she said this, but it was a tinkling sound, almost musical.

"Y-yes. When I was twenty-one, for my birthday, my classmates at culinary school wanted me to go play softball with them, and then go for beers, and Mommy accosted me on the field, and-"

Sylvan looked down, but Puff kissed him again.

"Tell us what bad old Mommy did to you, baby."

"She made me take off all my clothes, like I am now, and she beat me with her divining rod."

Whatever the fuck that is.

Puffin pouted as Sylvan began to pant.

Vidalia's contemptuous voice came from behind.

"Lutetia told us that you are such a queer little sissy that after your Mommie beat you, you begged to suck your classmate's penises...and the girls peed on your head."

"Nuh-no." Sylvan protested. "Mommy made me do that. I wanted to be a regular guy."

Puffin stroked Sylvan's cock faster, and I continued to tickle his scrotum. I used my right hand to pinch his nipple and he caught his breath as I trailed a blue nail down his narrow chest.

Teasing aside, Beta male guys have always left me cold. I am willing to give pity hugs, that kind of thing, and I let wimps buy me Margaritas while I look around for real talent, but this seemed like a waste of time.

I kept looking over at Maynard's crotch. I knew Sylvan had just been blowing him perhaps an hour before, but I knew Maynard wasn't a homo...that might be more fun.

But how long would I have to wait before we finished with Sylvan?

When Sylvan was about to blow, about a second later, Puffin kicked him even harder in the nuts.

"You'll never be anything but a Momma's boy and no girl will ever fuck you, Sylvan. Go in the woods with the real men and let them take pot shots at your crotch with the air rifle. Get the fuck out of here!"

Sylvan's dick never flagged, but of course he didn't get to cum, and he wailed like a naughty child being spanked and sent to bed without supper as the real men dragged him off for Flora and Fauna and Fellatio in the Forest!

Later that night, Maynard fucked me hard in one of the tents as Sylvan knelt miserably in the rain. Well, kind of miserably. I think he was beating his meat big time!