Three Little Words

“Sounds good,” Susan said. “And it was good talking to you. I’ll look for your estimate and then we’ll talk when it’s closer to spring.”

“You got it. Take care. Love you. Talk to you soon.”

“Love you too. Goodbye.”

I hung up and thought about how much Gunny had done around camp that no one really noticed. I also wondered how Susan was going to run the place without him. I couldn’t take over for him, and her sons both had lives of their own as well.

The world was changing, I realized. Free Love in the sixties and seventies had given way to the Moral Majority in the eighties. Was there a place for a family nudist camp in that world? I wasn’t sure, and that bothered me more than anything.

Life continued its routine, the sun rose and set every day, and January predictably turned into February. A couple of days later, Christy and I packed our things and flew to West Virginia. Damon was waiting for us, and in his own quiet way, he was excited as he helped with our luggage.

“My parents said I could go flying with you, but only if you let them pay for your expenses.”

“Well,” I said, “they gave us a ‘friend of the inn’ discount last time, so we’re even.”

“I don’t know if they’ll agree,” he said hesitantly.

“Then I’ll argue with them. You just plan on bringing us back to the airport early on Sunday. One or two o’clock, so we still have enough light to see. I’m thinking we’ll fly over the resort and inn so you can see them from the air.”

“That’d be awesome. Thanks!”

Christy beamed and slipped her arm through mine as we walked to the Bronco. “That’s very nice of you,” she said quietly. “Marianne says Carolyn and her husband are filthy rich, but they don’t want their kids to grow up with a sense of entitlement.”

I nodded. I’d guessed the same thing myself.

“So you might let Damon do things for us, like restock the firewood in the room. Just a suggestion,” she finished.

I grinned and silently compared her to her mother.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, really,” I admitted, although it occurred to me that her father wouldn’t have been nearly as successful without her mother. They had a different relationship than I wanted for Christy and me, but it was still a marriage of equals.

Christy must have sensed what I was thinking—the gist of it, at least. She tightened her grip on my arm and smiled a secret little smile. Only, it wasn’t so secret to me.

Christy started laying out clothes once we settled into our room.

“Is that what you’re wearing to dinner?” I asked.

She’d set out a plum-colored sweater dress with padded shoulders, a lavender bra and panty set, a matching plum garter belt, and black seamed stockings. She was hinting that she wanted me to tell her not to wear underwear, and I debated whether or not to do it.

I could almost feel her excitement building as the silence stretched out. I didn’t want a slave, but I also realized that she enjoyed being submissive. She was assertive enough in other areas, but not when it came to sex.

Then again, she managed to let me know what she wanted most of the time. She wasn’t vocal about it, but I got the message all the same. She looked a question at me, and I decided to play along.

“What did I tell you last time?” I said in my best stern-disappointed voice.

Her eyes flashed with excitement, but she immediately lowered them and looked contrite. “No bra, no panties.”

“Mmm hmm. So… why did you lay them out?”

“I thought—”

“Uh-uh. You know the rule when we come here: no underwear when we go out.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s better. Now take off your clothes.”

Her head came up and her eyes went wide with feigned uncertainty.

“Do it. Now.”

She stripped to her birthday suit and stood before me with her hands clasped behind her.

“Bend over the bed. You know the position.”

She swallowed hard and did it. The bed was high enough that she could bend at the waist and lie with her chest flat on the quilt. I moved next to her and rested my left hand on the small of her back.

“This should help you remember the rules.”

“Yes, sir.”

I slapped her gently, although it sounded loud in the quiet room. I swatted again, harder, and she let out a whimper. I spanked her for real the third time, which made her squeak. I switched sides and gave her another three before I gently rubbed her pink bottom. Then I probed between her legs. Her smooth labia slid apart at my touch, and I spread her moisture with my fingers.

“You like when I do that, don’t you?” Of course she does, I thought. She set you up for it. I chuckled silently and decided to enjoy my new role.

“No, sir,” she lied. “I… won’t do it again. I know the rules. I promise, I’ll do what you want from now on.”

I felt semi-ridiculous but said, “See that you do.”

“May I get dressed now?” she asked.

“Not yet. Get on your knees.” I unzipped my pants and took out my semi-hard cock. “Suck it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dinner was an exercise in restraint, for both of us.