Adirondack Hard free porn video
This story is by me, tough93013 ([email protected].) Copyright 6/22/2004.
Some of these events really occurred, and all are true to my fantasies anddesires. Several chapters are written and more are on the way. I hope you'llstick with it; subsequent chapters are more dense erotically. However, if you'reunder 18 you're probably not allowed by law to read this description of sexualactivities. If you're in an enlightened place where adult reading is OK, goahead. Otherwise, with deep regret, I must ask you to not read further andto go away.
This is a story of bondage, exhibitionism and humiliation, of sharing andfantasy-fulfillment, by and among friends, and largely out in nature. The centralcharacters here are in their early twenties. The main character, Ted, is, basically,me. In another published story, "My Perv," I start much younger,telling of my earliest experiences with bondage and my developing fantasy life.There's much more to "My Perv," which will follow my developmentinto adolescence and teenhood; so this story, "Adirondack Hard," ispart of a continuum, but a later part. I'll be both moving forward and fillingin the gaps. I'd like to say these stories are autobiography, and in a sensethey are. Some of what I'm writing about actually occurred, and much is extendedby my horny imagination. But then, I think autobiography is, really, fictionin the first person, based on the author's life. Who really can tell the wholetruth? Like I said, I wish this were even closer to an objective recountingof events than it is, but the embellishments, I hope, are what makes it interesting;and all of it is completely true to my fantasy life, that rich, dark placein my mind where I can be stripped and whipped, or can tie and torment another,out of love and friendship and without doing irreparable damage.
I hope this story makes the reader very aroused and very eager for more.As much as possible I write naked, sometimes in chains. Feel free to read underthe same conditions. There is more to come. I'd greatly appreciate reader feedback,either on the website or in e-mail to me.
I'd like to dedicate "Adirondack Hard" to two people I don't know,except through their writing, which has brought me to ecstasy, so to speak,many times. Their names are Crimson Dragon and Jym. They both write a lot aboutpeople resisting their submissive or dominant fantasies and then finding fulfillmentthrough the love of a willing partner. May all of us find our fantasies, whateverthey are, fulfilled in relationship with another.
Enjoy--If you want more, please let me know.
Adirondack Hard
Chapter 1: The Trip
Some time ago I was 22 and just out of graduate school in Upstate NY. I movedinto a rented farm in a little community near Binghamton, where I hung outwith ex-classmates who had settled in the area. I had just broken up with mywife of two years and was lonely and horny. The farm had a vast barn, unusedexcept as hay storage. I never saw anyone enter it, but I went in regularly.It was gorgeous and romantic in there, a gigantic open room with light streamingthrough spaces in the board sides. Massive, exposed beams, horizontals andverticals, divided the space in regular patterns. Exposed beams have alwaysexcited me, because I can imagine my body, or someone else's, tied to them.The barn was built on a slope, and underneath it on one side was a long, lowchamber with stalls, I assumed for cattle or horses. Leather straps and rustychains hung everywhere, long-unused paraphernalia for tending large animals.
After walking past the barn and across the untended fields that were partof my rented 40 acres in this little, poor farming town, I would come to acopse of woods that took up about half of my property. Growing up a New YorkCity boy with little privacy or space, I had always had a real affection forthe woods. As a kid I played in Bayside Woods with my cousins and friends.As a Boy Scout I had gone on camporees all over the Greater New York area,and had gone to Ten Mile River Scout Camp for several summers. Now outsideof Binghamton I was not that far from Ten Mile River, the Catskills and theAdirondacks I had loved.
Even as an adult I still had fantasies about the woods, fantasies that hadbegun before my puberty. The fantasies usually involved bondage, exposure,torture, being discovered tied helpless--those sorts of fun things. As a childI had friends who participated with me in playing out some of these scenarios--I'mwriting about that elsewhere. But now, as an adult, companionship in this forbiddenworld was hard to find and I almost never tried to bring anyone else in. Iloved the friends I had, most of whom were involved in relationships, and Icertainly didn't want to alienate any of them by revealing my perverse fantasiesand desires. Maybe I underestimated them. We were almost all politically liberal,smoked dope and occasionally tripped, drank beer and cheap wine. The girlsmostly didn't wear bras and didn't shave under their arms. We made risque banterand the girls, even the married or involved ones, were available for hugs,affectionate kisses and casual flirting, but I certainly never tried to domore. When we were engaged in sexual repartee I would occasionally sneak ina bondage reference to see if anyone expressed interest or curiosity, but nobodydid; and I certainly didn't pursue it. Though I was alone I had a good, supportivecommunity, and I certainly didn't want to do anything to jeopardize it.
Instead, I would walk into my woods alone, find a thick tree, lean backagainst it and reach behind it, grasping each wrist with the other hand. Iwould imagine I was a bound captive. It was not quite enough for me, but itwas better than nothing. Occasionally, when I felt very horny and very safe,I would strip naked and clutch a tree facing inward. My penis would erect andI would rub it against the rough bark until I ejaculated. Then instantly Iwould feel humiliated and ashamed. Coming often immediately broke the eroticaura hanging over me. I would quickly pull on my clothes, march out of thewoods to the farmhouse, go to my room, a vast cold room in the attic that oncewas used for storing fruits and vegetables, and pick up a copy of Jane Austinor Edith Wharton so I could read about repressed lives and vivid imaginationsother than my own.
Right after the Labor Day weekend I was invited by Jack and Sue, a marriedcouple who were my closest friends, to join them for a long weekend of canoeingand camping in the Adirondacks. I had camped and hiked with them before; itwas always wonderful. Sue was slender, brilliant, witty and very opinionated.Jack was tall, strong, quiet but very smart and dependable. He was a Viet Namveteran, a little older than Sue and I, and was an undergraduate French major.Delighted to be invited into the woods with dear friends at a time when weall knew the Adirondacks would be quiet post-Labor Day, I happily agreed togo and we made plans.
The day of the trip Jack and Sue arrived in their VW Bus to pick me up--andalong with them was Reba, another friend who had a boyfriend, Todd. Todd (whoI thought was mean and patronizing to Reba) was away for the weekend and myfriends had invited her to come along. I had mixed feelings. I really likedReba; in fact, I had a crush on her. She was extremely sweet, very smart, andhad the kind of body I loved: small breasts, pointy nipples (she never worea bra and usually wore spaghetti-strap tops, so I could tell about the nipples),a large ribcage and a full waist with a big butt and strong legs. And she hadcurly, dark hair and sparkling eyes. I had seen a lot of Reba because she wasSue's oldest friend, going back to childhood days on Long Island. They hadcome to college together and were roommates until Sue moved in with Jack.
I would never make a move on someone who was in a relationship--just oneof my moral standards. But, on the other hand, I hadn't desired another womanas much as I had desired Reba since I had first developed a crush on the girlwho would later become my (now divorced) wife. I thought this might be a weekendof private torment for me (no pun intended), in such close proximity to thisco-ed goddess with whom I would be sharing a back seat for several hours andthen a tent. Nonetheless I was secretly thrilled to see her and off we allwent.
Reba was a brand-new middle school math teacher and had just come from workwhere she had finished her first challenging week of orientation meetings beforestanding in front of a class for the first time. Because we wanted to get tothe canoe launching point on Middle Saranac Lake before sunset, we took offright after her day was finished. Thus, she climbed into the car in her teacherlyoutfit of button-up shirt, knee-length skirt and sensible shoes, and we hitthe road. About an hour out of town, however, Reba said she was uncomfortablein her good clothes and had to change. Her bag was in the back, so Jack pulledoff to the side of the country lane and Reba hopped out. She ran around tothe back, opened the hatch, pulled out her bag and removed denim cutoffs andone of her spaghetti-strap tops. I turned away as she started to open her shirt(wishing I had eyes in the back of my head), but I could hear her stripping,humming to herself. Jack and Sue both glanced back to check on her progress.Because he was married was Jack allowed to look? I kept my eyes front to giveReba space and to discourage the stirring I felt in my pants. All of a sudden,however, I heard a sharp clunk, followed by a yelp and moan from Reba. InstinctivelyI turned around and saw her, topless, clutching one of her hands with the other.She had smashed the back of her right hand against the raised hatch of thevan and was very sore. Cursing, she grabbed her top, slammed down the hatchand padded barefoot around the side of the van, climbing in next to me withher little top clutched against her chest.
I was sorry for Reba's pain but very aroused at her more-or-less enforcednudity. She closed the door and we sped off with me looking away from my half-nakedseat-mate. For a few minutes she continued to favor her sore hand while holdingthe top against her bare breasts by pressing it against her upper sides withher arms. I wanted desperately to stare at her but continued to look away.Eventually the pain abated and Reba was able to put on her top. Then she said "lookat this" and showed me a welt on the back of her left hand. It was uglyand I sympathized. She also said "thanks for being a gentleman and notstaring." I blushed and nodded. "Not from lack of interest, I assureyou." We both laughed.
We rode on into the afternoon and eventually Reba began to doze. Sleepily,she asked if she could stretch her legs across me. I love sleepy-eyed women!Then Reba's beautiful, long, naked legs were in my lap. She was wearing onlytiny denim cutoffs and a tiny top. As she slept, breathing heavily, I stolean occasional glimpse at her body. Her shorts were so brief I could see theedge of some pale blue cotton panties at her crotch. As she moved in her sleepher top rode up just a little so I could see her abdomen and belly button (nojewel--this was decades before that horrible fad began.) And as her legs movedover my lap I could feel them rubbing against my penis, which was by now partiallyerect. This was heaven and hell. I was afraid to move for fear of stimulatingmyself further, I was deeply embarrassed and I was, of course, very hot.
We sat and lay like this for about two more hours, at last arriving at thelake in the gorgeous Adirondack wilderness around 6:30 PM. We unloaded thecar, took down the two canoes, loaded our gear, and made off into the broad,calm and empty water. We paddled for about 30 minutes, Jack and Sue in onecanoe, Reba and I in the other, my eyes glued on Reba's delicious butt as itpressed against the front seating thwart. Finally we got to the campsite. Westill had an hour or more of light and it was hot and muggy.
Madison
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