Copyright (c) Rachel Kramer Bussel - DO NOT REPRINT WITHOUT PERMISSION
The first time with Peter and Nadia, there's no time for niceties. No lush bottles of wine, long, elegant, up-all-night talks about anything and everything, the slow build of arousal as your blood starts to boil until it practically spills over, bursting forth from the buttons of your shirt, pulsating in your cock and clit until you practically ooze out of your clothes. That had been happening for the past week, since I'd met them at a bar, since I'd spent every waking (and many not-so-waking) hours thinking about them, their same black hair, stylish tattoos, dirty, flirty looks across the room, still in love after five years. And so perfect for me, in an open relationship.
In seemingly no time we are at their place and the consensus seems to be that I am in charge. I push back the part of me that wants to do a dance of glee, or run away, or simply slink down to the floor and lick them both into ecstasy. They both have worn skintight outfits that make their asses practically pulsate, an electric sign that says “touch me” and that is what I must do, what I’ve been doing surreptitiously all night, copping quick, sly feels as I brush past them, hoping they’ll notice and like it. The last time, right before we left, stumbling home in a tumble of lips and hands and gropes, Nadia took my hand and placed it right on her ass, looking up at me with triumphant eyes, and I pinched her there, hard, shifting my hand down under her very short skirt to do it again.
Now, I line them up next to each other on the bed, his thin, slender ass next to her ultra curvy, rounded one, a vision of bootyliciousness that makes me wish I had a camera other than the one in my mind. I’m not sure where to start first, because both look so delectable, I could lick and bite and taste and slap for hours. I scrape my nails down her bare back and she wiggles, making her whole body move in the sexiest of ways, her long curls tumbling down her back as she tries to stay still. I scrape my already bitten nails from the back of her neck all the way down and don’t stop until I reach the plump flesh of her ass, which I’ve only gotten the briefest of tastes of so far. When I finally do, it’s like ass nirvana, as with my left hand I stroke his curvy rump. Everything one could want from a behind is all there right before me, and it’s almost overwhelming. Then again, I find one ass, proffered up to me with sass and honor and eagerness, overwhelming, this top’s truest delight.
I bring each hand up in the air and let them down hard, the sounds reverberating throughout the room as they each wiggle in tandem, their heads turned toward each other. It’s hard to feel mean, to fire up the proper fuel for this, when they are just so dreamily in love, but I try. I turn slightly and work only my best arm, my right, and smack her ass continually, fast and hard, then move onto his, each one offering up different sensations. I can feel his slaps travel throughout his thin body, can see more of the impact as he squirms, his toes rising up from the floor. They are holding hands as I unleash not fury but desire, that special tingle in my hand and surge in my heart as I give my all to spanking them, turning their white skin into a canvas of color, red and pink, lines here and there, unintentional abrasions I know they will feel for days on end. I feel myself blush as I look at his asscheeks, so easily bruised, so quickly reddened, angry little sparks of blood popping up from the surface, my hand also pulsing with blood and power.
I lean down and lick along his heated flesh, taking a firm bite, and he moans. They inch closer together and when I look up there are four lovely rounded curves awaiting my ministrations. I am again overwhelmed and awed at their ability to give of themselves like this; even though I know they want it, are waiting for more, it’s still an honor and privilege I don’t take lightly.
I return to her, running my hands over her lush, wonderfully overflowing cheeks. “You have such a beautiful ass, I’m surprised it’s not permanently red from being spanked all the time. How can one resist?” I lean close to her and say softly, biting her neck as I do, feeling the shiver travel down her back. I pinch and squeeze her brilliant ass, making sure it’s real, making sure she likes me touching her there. I put my left hand on his back, to steady myself and let him know that he will be next. “Spread your legs, baby,” I tell her, and she does, just a little bit, enough to let me see a little of her juicy, pink folds, enough to make sure that she’ll be conscious of how wet she’s getting, enough room for my hand to slide up along her slit in the middle of her spanking.
I move slightly to the side, leaning gently against Peter as I bring my hand back and give Nadia a good, solid whack. Her skin is so pale, and enough of that pale skin is left from my earlier smacks, that my handprint appears immediately, a striking red symbol that looks totally gorgeous on her. I move aside further and do the same to her left cheek and then pause for a moment to look at her. Nobody says anything but I notice her stick out her ass just a little further, so miniscule most people would never notice, but there it is—she wants more, and I can feel my own pussy start to thrum when I see this. Her ass has been beckoning to me all night, her whole body really, all fleshy curves poured into the close confines of a corset, bursting forth in all the right places, making her admirers unsure if they want to leave her in her sexy clothing or take it off and unveil her nude lusciousness. I pull her asscheek up with my left hand so it is stretched out, taut, already pulling slightly against her cunt, and then smack her again, a little harder. Then again, and I feel the smack reverberate back into my hand, that slight tingle in my palm that tells me I’m doing a good job. I rest my hand against her cheek lightly, letting my thumb slightly graze her shaved pussy, and she is even wetter than I’d expected. I slide my thumb slightly further down, letting it rest along the edges of her slit, teasing her by not moving. I scratch her back with my other hand, then reach over and run the ball of my hand hard down his back. I am dying to see his cock, to taste his hardness, but I can’t look at it now or I’ll be distracted from my mission.
That’s the delicious dilemma of fucking two people; it’s double the pleasure, actually, it’s much more than that, but you discover that you alone do not have enough hands or eyes or lips to do everything you’d like to do, that some things will have to momentarily wait, or be saved for next time, while you attend to the most urgent, throbbing pleasure first. But it’s a dilemma I’m glad to have as I fondle both of them, forgetting about my resolve and shoving my thumb into her cunt while my fingers rest around the opening of her ass, tapping, suggestive, while I continue to play with his cock. It’s all so much that I wonder how they manage to fuck and not explode every time with the sheer enormity of it; I don’t think I could handle this much sexual decadence on a daily basis. For now, though, I will have my fill, and I rearrange them so that he is on his knees, and I pull on his hair while slapping her fleshy, pale white ass, covering every inch of it with loud, noisy smacks that I feel all the way up my arm. She grabs onto the sheets, pulling them almost all the way off the bed, clutching them with all her might, to help shield her from this pain that she wants so badly. He brings his hand to her back, stroking and holding her, letting some of the pain travel through him as I keep whacking her, tapping her now lightly with a riding crop, testing her, wanting to take all of her but knowing that there is more to unravel in the coming weeks. Her body is so fabulously responsive, her desire so pure and untainted that I wanted to do everything imaginable in one fell swoop, but I pace all of us, keeping well within her body's limits, calming my rampant domme desires into something resembling a caress more than a punishment, even though we all know that it is both, at once. That is the beauty of spanking, it is tender and harsh, angry and loving, sweet and sour all mixed into one raised arm, one daring strike, one flash of insight that what she truly wants is this consecrated contact.
I place her in the middle of the large bed, then put him on top of her, a private pile of playfulness that I absolutely can't resist. I take out the paddle, my favorite one, the one that is shiny and red and always looks brand new no matter how many asses I treat it to, it's always gleaming just for me. I bring it down hard against him, rewarding him for his patience, knowing he will feel each smack deep into his bones, and she will too as he bounces on top of her, his cock boring into the crack of her ass, teasing her with its hard promise. I throw all my remaining energy, every last surge of need and want into his ass, until it is entirely red, surely painful, as he hugs her and wiggles and squirms, not knowing what he wants, only that he needs this. "Yes, yes, I—" he breaks off, a strangled cry as I smack him harder, drowning out the sound of his garbled words, not listening anymore as I unleash it all until he comes, spurting up onto her back, a vision of murky white that makes me smile as I put down the paddle.
I bring us back down to earth, where our breathing returns to normal, where we smile and giggle, slightly shy again, where every electron around us is not quite so charged with the magnetic draw of sexual power. I pull them up by the roots of their hair, push their faces together for a kiss, momentarily feel slightly left out, until they turn to me, lavish me with kisses and nibbles and attention. I reach down and fondle those sore, red, tender asses, and smile because I've gotten double the pleasure, the beauty of spanking times two. No triple, quadruple—hell, there's no quantifying this glory, only hoping that we can do it again. Very, very soon.
That first slap always takes me by surprise, even when I’m expecting it. There is such a vast difference between my ass laid bare, exposed to the air, but relatively intact, and the heat that brews along that most sensitive of parts after he has spanked me; from eager to seething in several brutal, beautiful seconds. Craig holds his hand tight against my skin, maintaining the warmth and the pain, making it last those few precious seconds longer. I’m lying naked across his lap, and beneath his tight jeans, his cock presses up against me, hinting, surging, wanting, but my spankings aren’t about his cock, as much as I might want them to be, as hot and wet as they might get me. Sometimes I wonder if they’re even about me at all; Craig comes to me with a glint in his eye, a severity of purpose and steely resolve to spank me until I flip over some immutable edge that I am in constant awe at how much our urges are in sync.
I squirm beneath him, my clit alive with the sensation of pleasure and heat as I wait for more. He raises his hand and brings it down equally as hard on my other cheek, and I smile to myself, even as my pussy clenches fiercely. His spankings are like a magic key that unlocks the secret of my desire, and even when I’m not totally in the mood, when my pussy seems to be on hiatus, when I want him to fuck me but don’t really need it, a few smacks from his strong hand and I’m back on the edge, back to being willing to do absolutely anything for him to fuck me. He knows this too, can sense from the way I breathe, the way I squirm and then stay absolutely still, that I am torn between wanting more spankings and wanting his cock filling me all the way up, though that choice is up to him, as always. His hand rains down, smack after concentrated smack, so perfect in their placement that I almost forget that tonight, as we often do, we have an audience, an eager female face soaking up all that we are doing, so new to her and yet, I sense, already unfurling a special signal inside her, a need that now that she’s discovered it must be attended to immediately.
Lara, our gorgeous, glamorous companion, with her black bobbed hair and perfect red lipstick, tattooed poise and perpetual, sexy smirk, doesn’t quite know what to expect, and watches us with an eagle eye. When I look up, I see her gaze frantically casting about, taking in my screams of pleasure, my tightly clenched fists, his strong arm moving up and down, but never mechanically, always seeking out that next perfect spot that has yet to burn with the flame of his smacks. I can tell from a momentary meeting of our gazes, my face slack with lust, hers eager and nervous and aroused all at once, that she wants him to spank her. And I have something I want too, so this will be perfect. Craig keeps going, his hand instilling in me everything he’s ever wanted me to know, hitting me in exactly the right places to make my ass want more and more and more.
Then he pushes me reluctantly off him, moves me slightly aside and unzips his pants. That delicious metallic noise alone is almost enough to make me come in anticipation. He takes his cock and slides only the very tip along my wetness, teasing me, before stroking me there with his fingers and I bite my lip hard, surely leaving a mark, so I don’t cry out and break the elevated silence that protects our perfect bubble. Suddenly, I can’t stand it anymore, and take Lara’s hand, tugging her towards me. She is ready now, ready for anything after the show we’ve just provided her. She tumbled home with us in a blue of champagne and flirtation, insinuation and entendre, and I’m sure expected simply more of the same, but we’re going to give her something to remember forever, or at least, I am.
I kiss her, our lips melding in one warm, wet tangle of tongues that sends shivers straight to my pussy. She is soft and sweet and so open that I want to devour her. I balance on one elbow and grab her hair with my other hand, tugging deep from the roots, smiling when her whole body convulses. I turn over onto my back, make a moue with my lips, some cross between a wink and a smile, a conspiratorial pursing that Craig accepts, perhaps my reward for taking my spankings like such a good little girl. I stand up and tug down his unzipped black jeans. They hug his muscular legs just so, but have enough give that I get them off easily, until he is standing there in only his tight black tank top, stretching across his hardened chest, tiny nipples poking out slightly, and I push him down onto the bed. He lets me, even though he could just as easily flip me around and hold me hostage, his fingers familiar weights around my wrists as I struggle against his grip, pretend like I want to get up when really I want him to hold me down forever. But now, I pull Lara up, groping my fill of her as I do, letting my hands move from her shoulders, over her nipples, down to her fine ass and somehow slipping briefly down to her cunt, which is just as wet as I’d have expected it to be. After dipping my fingers into her wetness, I bring them back up to her mouth. She accepts them, pulling them in, seeking and swallowing, her tongue darting along my digits even as they push deeper and deeper. She is telling me something with her throat, telling me she wants more, will do whatever I say, and a different kind of rush runs through me even as my cheeks still burn from Craig’s smacks, even as I desire more of them; I want to spank her, to hold her, to have her. I pull my fingers out, a slight feat given her sharp, even teeth clamped around them, but I manage.
I pinch her left cheek, just because I can, because I want to make sure she knows I own every part of her, any part of her, that if I want to claim the underside of her arm or bite her stomach or scratch my nails into the back of her neck, I can. She looks up at me with those almost-opaque blue eyes, and they are liquid, lush, so wide and gleaming with need, a need for direction, order, care. A need to be told what to do, to prove herself worthy, and that need is stamped so nakedly across her pretty face, with its light dusting of freckles across her perfect, porcelain, pore-free skin, so raw in its bare vulnerability, that I want to hug her for a second. She’s stunningly gorgeous, something she almost tries to hide beneath the trappings of goth glamour, but I can see the rawness anyway.
Instead of an embrace, I let my fingers trail down her arm, squeeze her hand for a moment before pushing her down before Craig. She does that full-body moan once again when faced with his impressive cock; it’s certainly one that can make any girl a blowjob fan, so ornate and alive and hard and simply manly, which seems obvious—it’s a cock, isn’t it?—but not all cocks are equal, I’m sorry to report. Craig’s is a specimen of the finest order, large and velvety smooth, hard and proud, capable of giving and receiving equally, a steely, strong reminder of his arousal. She takes the base in her hand, made tiny in comparison to his girth, and slowly puts the tip into her mouth, as if she’s afraid it won’t be able to fit. But fit it does, sliding between her naturally pink lips, and while his manhood pushing deeper down her throat is a gorgeous sight, I have other, better things to do just now. I slide my fingers once again inside her pussy, feeling her body briefly tense and then relax to let me in. I glide gently, getting three in, knowing she can take many more, but three is enough for now. I pinch her clit with my other hand while my fingers seek and press, a digital Christopher Columbus exploring bountiful new worlds filled with wetness, tightness, beauty. As I stroke her cunt, she sucks Craig’s cock for all she’s worth, saliva pooling around her lips, her bangs falling into a sweaty tangle, her body, not just her lips, his, all his, well, except her pussy, which is mine, all mine. I look over at Craig and smile before twisting my fingers just so, pushing urgently upward as her lips dive down to the very base of his cock, swallowing his entire length as I add a fourth and final finger. Craigs hands have moved to her shoulders, lightly tracing them as I increase my efforts. Her body tightens and she lets out a groan against his dick as she contracts around me, her orgasm rippling upward, her body trembling in delight as she provokes Craig’s. I can practically feel his hot juice bursting forth into her mouth, and she grasps the base of his cock in one hand while sliding the other up along his wet rod, pumping his come into her mouth as if he’s the fountain of youth, beauty and passion all rolled into one. She swallows every last drop until her lips are shiny and sticky, her body gleaming with its two orgasmic conquests.
We rest for a while, until our asses get the better of us. I’ve been fondling hers, giving it light smacks that make her moan, her teeth clenching, begging for more, and the warmth and pinkness have already worn off from my earlier spanking session. With a wink, I pull Laura up once again, and we position ourselves along the wall, queuing up as we await our spankings, already regretting that the pleasure has to end, even though we know it’s only temporary. Where Craig’s concerned, there’s a never-ending fount of smacks, of ways to torment pretty girls’ asses, of teasing, taunting words to let us know just how naughty we really are, of sadistic whispers that make our pussies drip with pleasure. There’s a never-ending source of hows and whys and whens, and just as we least expect it, he will demand that we brave our butts, demand that we show complete servitude, lest he take his special hands away and bestow them on someone else. It’s the first time for the two of us, but by Lara’s eyes and her hand gripping mine so tightly she might break my tiny bones, I know it won’t be our last.
We line up, a tiny two-person queue filled with desires much bigger than just the two of us. Our asses could take on the world, at least, it feels that way as I spread my legs slightly, ready to reach behind me to touch the warmth of my own curves, offer myself to my love in every sense. I want to be first, but know that he will make the decision. He steps forward with two paddles, round, black, leather ones that promise to sting mightily. I close my eyes and lean my head against the wall, trying not to tense up and brace myself, but let everything just go, when I feel it. The loud smack echoes through the room and my body, the sting first making itself known on the very surface of my ass before zipping down along my thighs, inside, into my cunt, tiny sparks shooting down to my toes, the tail end of a firecracker that has burned so brightly it lasts long after the naked eye sees it pop and fizzle. More blows land, dancing all around my ass, from the far edges of my curves to just below my cheeks, on the very tops of my thighs, to my sweet spot. I sneak a peek behind me and see Craig doing the very same thing to Lara, twin spankings for two girls who are equally craving his power. Good thing he’s ambidextrous.
Lara seems to be feeling the same sensations as I am, and we alternate staring at each other and Craig, until we simply can’t do more than melt into the wall while his arms paddle us into a land of sweet, blissful pain, the sound of anticipating whistling through the air before that leather connects with our curves. I know her sweet ass must be on fire, because mine certainly is, the smacks taking on greater power as they build upon the previous ones, making me pussy tingle once again. When he’s done (even though we’re not sure we are), he tosses the paddles down and fondles our hot, smooth cheeks, dips light fingers into our wetness but doesn’t give us the relief we’re truly seeking. Craig likes to keep his girls always ready, always horny, always wanting more. Lined up, keyed up, queued up for the next time, and with Craig, you know there’ll always be a next time. So if you ever need me, that’s where you’ll find me–waiting my turn, always the first in line, my ass at the ready. Join me, please; there’s plenty of room, and I promise, you won’t be disappointed.
My boyfriend, Kyle, has the perfect cock. Really—if there were cock models, the way there are hand and feet models, I bet he’d be making a fortune off his pecker. It’s tall and poised and beautiful, sleek and strong, with light brown hairs curling at the base, as if proud statue were rising from a vineyard . The first time I saw it I almost wept, but I resisted—and quickly got down on my knees. I’ve worshipped his dick, literally, since day (or rather, night) one and am just as smitten with the member as the man even ten years down the road. Don’t worry, he’s equally as enthralled with my pussy, and together we’ve had countless sexual adventures. But lately, I’ve come to the conclusion that his package really is too perfect not to share. I mean, what kind of selfish, spoiled brat would I be if I kept such a gorgeous cock all to myself?
Okay, you’ve got me. I’m the consummate selfish, spoiled brat, and I want to share his dick because I want to watch. I’ve been going wild picturing another girl’s lips wrapped around that luscious fat head, her saliva dripping down his dick as she opens wide and takes him inside while he looks on proudly, brushing her hair from her face. I want to see everything I don’t get to see when I’m lying on my stomach, ass in the air, taking a pounding from him as his cock smoothly dives inside me, my G-spot rushing toward him, my hips undulating beneath him, my body his for the taking; everything I don’t get to see when his cock’s all the way down my throat and I’m in blow-job heaven. Just thinking about his cock makes me horny, but usually I have it buried inside me, somewhere, swelling to fit my entire mouth, cunt or ass, his hard length leaving me little room to think or look, I must simply feel him grinding against my sensitive flesh until he rings me dry—or, wet.
I haven’t told him yet, but I’ve been on a mission, a hunt. Every hot girl who passes my way, whether it’s the waitress at our local vegetarian joint, with her long braided pigtails and ripped denim skirt and camouflage shirt that just hints at the curves underneath, or my boss’s slamming secretary who I swear could make a killing as a stripper. She has flaming red hair, perfectly pink lips that she keeps natural or just hinting of gloss, and she wears these business suits that manage to be sexier than a bikini, her tits and ass practically popping out of their pinstripes. She gets away with her wild collection of stockings, in various hues with patterns and designs that could make even this confirmed straight girl lean down and worship my way from her feet on up. One time she even came back from a trip to England with black tights emblazoned with the Fab Four on them. Thankfully, our ad agency is pretty open to experimental dressers. She’s never been anything but efficient and friendly, yet sometimes I detect a glimmer of something deeper, a womanly, sensual swirl to her hips; a gleam in her eyes that tells me she’d be perfect splayed across our bed with Kyle’s cock spearing her over and over. But I know how badly that could go, so I move on.
In the end, Carrie, the girl who will grant me a front-row seat at my very own private sex show starring my boyfriend’s dick and a beautiful babe, finds me. We meet at the gym, where she beckons me over so I can help her lift those last five pounds of a monstrous weight that I’m shocked her tiny body can handle. When she gets up, panting and exerted, instead of sticking out her hand for me to shake, she flexes her bicep, showing me just how strong—and sexy—she really is. Then she grants me a dazzling grin, showing off not just perfect even white teeth, but that the feeling is genuine, lighting up her whole face. I’d follow her anywhere if she’d give me another smile like that, and I know Kyle would too. We spend the rest of our workout time in close proximity, and I grunt extrahard as I push the weights with my legs, in part because my pussy is throbbing from my thinking about her sliding all over my boyfriend, brushing her breasts against his chest, her pussy hovering over his cock or his mouth, teasing him until he begs for mercy.
I know it might sound weird to you, but I don’t want a threesome. While fun for other people, they’ve always seemed to me like too much work without enough reward—exciting, but not nearly as much so as watching this gorgeous woman devour every inch of Kyle. I want to watch him as I’ve never gotten to see him, his cock standing tall, his body at its most vulnerable as he strains toward her. I don’t waste much time before bringing up the topic—unlike the rest of the gym-goers, who huddle around the juice bar for a dark green kale-filled smoothie, we head to a real bar, and over massive margaritas, I start to gush about my sexy man. I even whip out my favorite photo of him wearing just shorts on the beach in Hawaii, his skin tan and gleaming, his erection faintly visible, if you’re looking. She licks the salt around the rim of her glass, then brings her tiny tongue back into her mouth and sucks. “He’s quite the hunk—you’re a lucky girl, Sarah,” she says.
“You know, you could be lucky too,” I say, taking a big sip from the light green slush.
“I don’t seem to meet guys like that, no matter how hard I try,” she replies, her voice slightly wistful as her eyes focus on something far away, or far behind.
“No, I mean…” I trail off, putting one hand on her leg, lightly, as the words come to me. “You can share his cock with me.” I look away for a minute, my cheeks burning even as I’m determined to share my fantasy with her. “I have this thing where I want to watch him with another girl. He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever been with, and I just feel like his dick is too perfect to keep all to myself. We’ve been together, and faithful, for ten years. Believe me, he doesn’t even know about this naughty little fantasy of mine, though I’m pretty sure he’ll agree to it in a snap—especially if you’re involved. What’s not to like? He’ll get to fuck a beautiful girl, you’ll get to enjoy what truly is the finest cock I’ve ever seen, and I’ll get…well, I’ll get to watch.” I say “watch” like I’m winning the lottery or diving into an ocean of chocolate, like watching her and him together will be the pinnacle of my life thus far—and I mean it.
She drains her glass, her eyes seeking mine, making sure I’m for real. “But…why?” she asks, more confused than disdainful.
“I don’t even really know. It’s not like it just occurred to me today. I’ve been having dreams where I’m lying in bed and he’s on his back and some beautiful girl is moving all around him, exactly the same way I do. I start telling her how he likes his dick sucked, but then I realize she’s got it under control.” I pause, searching her face. “I know, most women would die of jealousy if their guy so much as kissed another girl, but I’m freaky like that. You can’t have him, but I’d love it if you borrowed him for a night,” I finish, not sure what she’ll say.
“Can I see it?” she asks finally, after a silence during which I try to look anywhere but at her. The bartender refreshes our glasses, and I fill my mouth with the icy drink before replying.
“His cock? Sure—I’ll email you a photo when I get home.” I lean in close, pushing her hair back as I let my lips brush lightly against her ear, getting a bit of a shock as I do so. “Your mouth’s going to water when you see it, I promise.”
Carrie looks like she’s trying to figure out what to say as she licks the newly salted rim of her glass. “Girl, I have to tell you, I think you’re a little bit crazy. But so am I, and he looks so fine, I feel like I’d be kicking myself if I refused. He really doesn’t know a thing about this yet?” she asks, her voice lilting upward.
“Not yet, but he will,” I say, slipping her my card as she scrawls her information on a napkin.
We finish our drinks, but every time her tongue pokes out to lick the glass, I can’t help picturing it winding its way along his cock. I’m ready to race home, and I do––right after she leaves, right after I sneak off to the bar’s bathroom and bring myself to a quick, rousing orgasm as my fingers flick at my wet clit while my other hand muffles my moans.
When I get home, I find Kyle on the couch in front of a football game. I smile and say, “Hey, baby,” but when he puts his arms out to welcome me, I instead reach down and grab his cock, sinking to my knees. I pull down the layers of his shorts and boxers to unveil a dick that’s already half-hard and getting harder by the minute as I hold it. I lean forward and ever-so-lightly suck the head into my mouth, then sit back and let my tongue toy with the veins traveling up and down his shaft before pulling back to look up at him. I’m gratified to see his eyes glued on my face.
“To what do I owe this honor?” he asks, his face lined with sexy stubble, his light brown eyes glinting as he tries not to break out into a grin.
“To a girl—Carrie,” I say, then go right back for another lick. He moans as I inch my lips downward, taking half of his length into my mouth, but knowing he’s not done growing. “I’m going to show her how to do this,” I tell him, breaking my mouth’s grip momentarily before plunging back down in one smooth movement, my lips wrapped around my teeth as I feel his cock travel all the way down my throat. I keep his full length inside me for as long as I can, breathing in his manly scent, feeling every bit of him pressing against my lips, my cheeks, surrounded by cock, cock, and more cock. Finally I slide slowly, reluctantly upward, my cheeks already aching with that glorious effort my blow jobs entail.
“What?” he asks, his voice husky, his eyes slightly cloudy as I stand and then straddle him, his naked cock bouncing back against him, then getting flattened between us as I rub my pussy along his hardness.
“I’m going to give her a little show and tell, and then she’s gonna fuck you and suck your cock while I watch. I’m gonna make sure she does it perfectly,” I say, then quickly plant my mouth back on his pole, tasting my own heady juices. The whole scenario, from the feel of his hot penis in my mouth to picturing Carrie doing the very same thing, to his strangled moans has me soaking wet. When he pulls me up toward him, turning me around so my hips are hovering over his face, then starts to devour me as I swallow him, I relent, even though normally I prefer to do one thing at a time, fully savoring each sensation. As his tongue parts my lower lips; diving into my swollen, dripping sex; I shudder all over, my hard nipples mashed against his torso, my mouth slackening involuntarily as he pushes deeper inside. His hot tongue swirls in mesmerizing circles as I sink my lips down, down, down, until they meet the base of his cock, the head easing around the bend in my throat. His fingers ply my clit, parting the hood and massaging the hard button beneath as his tongue probes me, his lips and teeth and fingers making me rumble. I ease up on his cock, barely able to breathe, barely wanting to. When he adds a finger inside me alongside his tongue, I’m a goner, my entire lower half tightening and then sparking, my legs clamped around his head as I suck the crown of his dick for all I’m worth, rewarded by the hot spurts of come that erupt from him.
He kisses me between my legs a few more times and then we finally turn around, and I taste myself, this time on his lips. Kyle looks into my eyes, smoothing my hair off my sweaty forehead, his fingers tracing my brows. “I’ll give you anything you want, but I have to tell you, I don’t think any girl out there can suck my cock the way you do,” he finally says.
“Just wait,” I tease, my previously sated body already perking up again at the thought of Carrie grinding herself against my man. I move aside, looking up and down at the man I consider my personal male model, my own private piece of eye candy others may sometimes get to borrow as their eyes drink their fill while we walk down the street, but who I get to take home every night. Feeling him against me is still a thrill, a prize, a treasure, but sharing him is going to take things to a while new level.
I just hope Carrie is as excited as I am. When I call her the next day, she tells me she had a dream about him, about us. “I was lying on my back, my hands above my head, and his dick was coming at me, so big and hard and powerful. I spread my legs at the same time I opened my lips and he entered me in one fast motion. I gripped the headboard, and pulled against it, and then you shackled me to it so I really couldn’t move, and while he fucked my face I watched his cock as it moved in and out. Then I saw you, naked, with your fingers between your legs, and I tried to focus on sucking his dick while memorizing the way you were touching yourself so I could do it later.” Her words spill out in one big outpouring, racing ahead of one another, tripping over themselves in her eagerness to share her fantasy with me. The more she talks, the wetter I get, picturing exactly what she’s described.
“I guess that means you’re in,” I tease her, knowing that I’d have a fight on my hands if I tried to refuse her at this point.
After that, everything else moves at warp speed. For the next few days, all I can think about is watching Kyle and Carrie, directing them in my own little play, and the very idea of her naked along with him, in a scene that I’d created but ultimately would only be a bit player in, has the part of my stomach closest to my pussy doing somersaults, dropping as far as it does when I ride a roller coaster. My body literally aches, and the night before we’re to meet, when Kyle slides a simple finger inside me, I pitch forward, burying my face in his shoulder as I clutch him, my eyes tight as I squirm. “You’re thinking about me with her, aren’t you, Sarah? I know you are, and damn it, now I am too. You’ve made me want to fuck another woman, and even though I’m doing it for you,” he says, his voice rough, almost growling, as his finger surrenders to my cunt’s entreaties, pushing as far as it can go while the flat of his hand mashes my clit. “I’m gonna enjoy it. I’m gonna shove my tongue so deep inside her cunt that she’ll scream.” I reach for his cock through the haze, each of us alternating a fantasy web with our dream girl.
But as many scenarios as we’ve played out the night before, none of them could have prepared us for how hungry Carrie is for him. Any reservations she may have had have clearly vanished, because she pounces on my man immediately, as if they’ve been the ones conducting the secret affair, negotiating this night under cover of darkness, not her and me. I’m wearing a silky sheer black camisole and the tiniest scrap of black lace panties, which are soaked practically from the moment I put them on. I’ve kept them on me, though, letting my scent permeate the room, dipping my fingers inside to offer Kyle a taste of my juices as we wait. Then, all too soon, she’s here, looking even hotter than she did when we met, au naturel in a slinky red dress that seems molded to her body. We converge in the living room where she greets me with a full body hug, her hands traveling from my shoulders on down, and then I hear her say, “And you must be Kyle.” Unconsciously, I slip away, letting them get to know each other. I head to the kitchen to make cocktails, eavesdropping the whole while.
“Hi Carrie,” he says, his voice deep and husky. “I’ve heard all about what a naughty girl you are,” and that’s the last thing I hear as I fumble with the ice cubes. I pour us all sodas, nixing the alcohol, and quickly hurry back. I almost drop the glasses when I see them kissing, his denim-clad leg thrust between her thighs, pressing upward as she pushes downward. He suckles her lower lip, tugging it between his teeth. I set the glasses down on coasters, and he looks over and gives me a little smile. “You have good eyes, my dear, very good eyes,” he says, and pulls back enough so we can both see how swollen his cock is. There’s no need for small talk, awkward or otherwise, and things are moving along even faster than I’d anticipated. I follow them up the stairs, watch his hand on her back pushing her up, and I have a feeling he’s going to spank her from that slight show of dominance. When she starts to go right instead of left, his other hand lashes out, pulling her close, while the hand that was guiding her back slides easily into her blonde tresses, tugging her head backward to expose her neck. “I’ll show you where to go,” he says, and she moans in response, giving me a glimpse of hard nipples pressed against the fabric of her dress. I realize she must not be wearing a bra and I feel a gush of moisture fall against my panties.
We reach the bedroom, his hand still tangled in her hair while his other hand immediately goes to his zipper. I step back, giving them a little room to explore but keeping them in my sight. I can see the tendons in her neck straining, her silent swallows as she looks up at him adoringly. She’s caught the magic, the fever; that special ability he has to make powerful, sexy women quiver before him, eager to do his bidding. He lets go of her hair so he can push down his pants to reveal his hard, strong cock. He lets the jeans drop to the ground, then sits on the edge of the bed. “Down,” he says, pointing, the single word enough to have her instantly on her knees.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, the one I can hardly believe is actually happening. She reaches for his cock with her hand, but he pushes it back and then leans over her, shoving his cock against her cheek as he fixes her wrists behind her back, her hands dangling down just above the end of her spine, right above her ass. “Keep them there. I just want your sweet little mouth,” he says, the naughty words making me plunge my fingers into my wet panties for some much-needed relief. I try my best to stay silent, biting my lip as she kisses his cock reverently then licks her way in one long motion from his balls on up to the crown before taking him between her lips. I don’t get to see the glory of his cock anymore, but watching her strain to wrap her lips around him more than compensates, maybe because I’ve been there countless times; maybe because I can hear her heavy breathing in the otherwise silent room, her snorts and gurgles as she swallows him. I peek around and see her rocking slightly, her ass bobbing along with her head, and know she’s getting as wet as I always do. I give myself a mental pat on the back for having chosen such a perfect slut as Carrie, as my fingers dive inside my slit. It’s hard to tell who’ll be offended and who’ll be turned on by the chance to bang your boyfriend, you know.
She’s got his entire cock shoved down her throat, and her eyes gaze up at him, waiting for his next instruction. She keeps her mouth there, nudging the base, her lower lip flush with his ball sac, until she needs air, and then she slowly rises upward, unveiling his glistening cock for me. I add another finger, and feel my own breath shoot harshly out of my nose, my nostrils surely flared like a horse’s, my noises of arousal joining hers.
Carrie starts writhing up and down, faster and faster; and Kyle, who’s been trying to maintain a stoic expression, can’t help but part his lips, his eyes starting to glaze. She’s moaning now, her fingers twitching at their imposed exile from her pussy, when he pulls her up again. “You’re a fabulous cocksucker, Carrie. I hope you get lots of practice because clearly you just need cock as often as you can get it,” he says, his voice husky, not giving away any sense of just how much he’s enjoyed her skills. “I think that made you very wet, didn’t it?” he asks. He’s not talking to me, and yet it feels like he is. I’ve orchestrated this little game, but they’ve run with it. They’re not putting on a show for me, I just happen to be their audience I realize as he sits up on the bed, propping his back against the headboard and lifting her dress off to reveal her smooth, naked backside. He hasn’t looked at me once, his eyes fixed on her perfect ass curving across his lap. It doesn’t matter though, whether they’re trying to show off or not. Watching him do all the things he usually does to me, and seeing her react, has my eyes tearing with arousal, the way they do when I give him a really brilliant blow job. I wouldn’t call them tears of joy, exactly; more like tears of overwhelming desire, my body’s natural reaction to feeling like I might shatter, exploding in a fiery orgasm right there on the carpet. I dare to step closer and perch on a corner of the bed, so I feel it bounce as he lifts his hand and brings it down with a resounding smack on her ass. Her hands have automatically settled above her head, perfectly subservient, and now I see her bring her arm toward her mouth, so she can muffle her own cries as he does the same thing to her other cheek.
Handprints, large and pink, immediately flower on her pale skin, but he just keeps on going until her ass is totally his, marked by his smacks. I note the way her body moves slightly, her legs widening, her ass arching higher to make the most of his smacks. Soon even her arm can’t muffle her sounds. He’s had his hand pressed against her lower back, keeping her still so she can fully absorb his smacks, but at her cries, he moves to shove four fat fingers into her mouth. She immediately starts suckling them, as if starved, her face rocking against his invading fingers. This is all way too much for me, and I get up and grab my favorite vibrator. I briefly wish it were one of those small, silent ones, but those have never really done the trick for me. This is a dual-action powerhouse, and I lay it in front of me and hump it, sliding it inside me so I’m pretty much sitting on it before I let it start buzzing. As Carrie sucks and gets spanked, I let the toy whir against my clit and tumble inside my pussy, bringing me to a powerful climax in moments. Carrie turns her head and watches me, her eyes glossed over as he keeps on spanking her. Finally, he pauses, and the lack of noise suffuses the air. I’m spent, and I turn the vibe off. He slides his fingers out of her mouth, but when she whimpers, Kyle offers her his thumb, and she sucks it like a child.
He rubs his hand along her hot skin, then looks up at me, beckoning me forward. I inch closer, so I’m sitting on my knees, which are just grazing her hip. He reaches for my hand, and lets me feel just how warm he’s made her ass. I rest my hand there, gently curving my fingers into her sore flesh, while he dips lower, bringing two fingers into her hole. I stare blatantly, so close up, as they emerge covered in her juices, and I hear her sucking on his thumb, gurgling almost as his fingers torment her pussy. He adds a third finger and she cries out. “I think Carrie’s ready for my cock, don’t you, Sarah ?” he asks me, though it’s largely rhetorical—if he wants to fuck her right now, he will, and all three of us know it. When he says this, she buckles against him, and he pushes deeper, twisting his fingers around, making her come while I feel her body tremble below me.
Usually he likes to be on top, doggy-style being his favorite, so I assume it’s as a favor to me that he lies back against the pillows, sinking down so he’s flat on the bed, and turns her around so she’s on top of him. He pushes her up so she’s straddling him, her hips near his, then nods toward me. I scurry to get a condom, then hand it to her, watching as he holds the base of his cock and she rolls the latex sheath along his bulging length. Her face is serious, full of concentration as she unrolls it. I’m back in the corner of the bed, my body heating up again as she completes her mission and climbs on top of him. I watch from behind, see her reddened ass as it rises up and down along his cock. I let my fingers drift to my cunt, but the urgency isn’t there anymore. My fingers lazily part my lips, simply feeling the blood gently swirling below as he keeps his hands on her hips and guides her.
They’re not too loud, so all I hear is the slapping as their bodies rub together. I’m suddenly wiped out, exhausted in a way only orgasm can make me, and I lie down next to Kyle, my head on an adjacent pillow, as Carrie smiles at me, her perfect breasts bobbing along with the rest of her. When his hands move around to cup her ass, squeezing it firmly and then pulling her cheeks apart, she pitches forward, tumbling on top of him and smothering my boyfriend with her blonde hair. A few strands land on me, tickling until she lifts her head and shakes them behind her. They kiss; a slow, passionate meeting of the lips as they grind together. I shut my eyes for a moment and find the image of them seared into my mind, captured indelibly. I purr without meaning to, open my eyes to find him sitting up, pushing her onto her back, and sliding out. He takes off the condom, tossing it to the ground as he now climbs on top of her. I don’t know what he’s doing at first until I see her hold her breasts together, and he slides between them. He spits into his hand to lube up his cock, then puts it back into her titty tunnel, and she pushes them tightly together. “Come on my tits,” she says, her gaze fixed on his swollen head riding ever closer to her mouth as he thrusts in and out of her. She doesn’t have to do much to get him to spurt, and when he does, I watch his hot lava arc over her body, then land all along her chest, leaving her covered in his white mess. He grunts, then jerks the last few droplets out of his dick before getting up to wash off.
Kyle’s never much of a talker right after he’s come. I’m still absorbing all of what’s happened, my mind adrift as Carrie stares back at me lazily. I’m about to ask what she thought when she says, simply, “You were right. It’s perfect,” then smears his cream all over her.
I guess if there’s any lesson to be learned it’s that you shouldn’t gloat over your prized possessions, be they a mansion in Malibu, a sleek sports car, or your boyfriend’s killer cock. The best things in life, the ones that truly matter, aren’t meant to be hoarded, they’re meant to be shared. I’ll probably lease out Kyle’s cock again, maybe for our anniversary, but for now, I’m gonna spend some time savoring his perfect cock all by myself.
Laura is late. There’s no escaping the fact that the clock tower outside my apartment has just loudly chimed six and my spankee has yet to show. I walk around my bedroom, running my fingers over the implements I’ve set out in preparation. There’s a tiny slapper, a small, patent-leather nothing of a toy, one whose bark will always be worse than its bite. There’s a ruler, an extra-long, coated one, for maximum impact. There’s a shiny black paddle, stern and strong, like me. There’s one with fur on one side, for when I want to soothe her, or just lull her into a false sense of security. There’s a strap, my belt, a wooden paddle. I probably won’t use them all on her, but I like to have them ready, just in case.
I pace around, trying not to get too angry. Our spanking dates are about fun, about mutual enjoyment as she bends herself over my knee or splays herself across my lap. Sometimes I sit in a chair, completely clothed, while she strips before me and then lies down, her long, black hair brushing the floor. I have to wait for her to become totally still; she’s that perfect blend of nervous and excited that makes her body gently hum and quiver.
I pick up the strap and slap it against my hand. The noise and sting bring me back to earth. I look at the clock and see another ten minutes have passed. We’ve talked about this countless times; I’ve tried to instill in her the importance of punctuality, not just when she’s meeting me, but generally. It’s rude to be late, it insults the person you’re meeting by prioritizing your schedule over theirs. She always nods contritely, and I give in to her, even though once I almost sent her home without her dear spanking. My cock was pleading with me to go through with it, though, and I did, though the lesson might’ve sunk in more had I been a stronger man.
My dates with Laura are about spanking and spanking only. You see, even though I’m dominant to the core, I’m in love with a sassy, whipsmart submissive named Evangeline. She knows she’s got me wrapped around one of her tiny, delicate little fingers, and I actually like it that way. On the surface, I call all the shots, telling her when she can and can’t wear panties, supervising her nipple piercings, exerting control whenever and wherever I can. I know it makes her wet when I give even the slightest command. “Spread your legs farther apart,” I’ll whisper in her ear on a crowded subway train. She’ll turn and give me an infuriated, but utterly aroused, grin, as she does it. She’s only playing at being mad because now her panties will be wet, her pussy seething, her mind racing for the rest of the day as she wonders what else I’ll tell her to do later that night.
We have an open relationship, but the door isn’t flung all the way wide. We keep it partly cracked, just ajar enough so other women, like Laura, can get in and get the spankings and punishments they, and I, crave. But, horny as they make me, Evangeline has forbidden me from fucking them. I’ve managed to work that energy and want into my scenes, even though it’s sometimes very hard to resist those wet pussy lips I’m allowed to stroke but not enter. Laura’s the worst of all, the biggest temptation, and sometimes she gets spanked extra hard because otherwise I just don’t know what to do with all the pent-up arousal. Evangeline wins too because when she comes over after I’ve played with Laura, I fuck her so hard she can feel it for days afterward.
I finally sit down on the bed, my hand lightly resting on my crotch. There’s no real way to simulate spanking a pretty, willing, needy girl’s ass when you’re by yourself. Watching videos just doesn’t quite do it for me; I need flesh and blood, I need to her hear beg, I need to look down at her face and see the answers written across her features. At six forty-five, my doorbell finally rings. I have to admit, I've pretty much given up on her ever showing up. Maybe we'll never see each other again, and while I'll be disappointed, what can I do? So I’m partly surprised, partly aroused, and partly annoyed when I open the door to see her standing there blowing her sweaty bangs up off her face, looking contrite and bedraggled but still goddamn sexy. She’s pushing thirty but dresses like a schoolgirl - literally. She has on a pleated plaid skirt, strategically ripped fishnets, big black platform shoes, and a skimpy little white tank top and no bra, letting anyone who cares to look see the twin barbell piercings adorning her nipples. Her hair is in two braids, black eye makeup smeared around her eyes, red lipstick emblazoned across her mouth. Those lips are so tempting, even more than her ass; I’ve had many a fantasy about sinking my cock between them, letting her do what I’m sure she’s brilliant at.
Just the way she makes her sorry face, her mouth open, eyebrows up, hip cocked, makes me want to fuck her. Since I can’t do that, I let my annoyance show. "What took you so long?" I snap, blocking her entrance with my body, even though part of me longs to grab her and give her a hard, solid kiss.
"The train was delayed, and I forgot something in the house . . ." she seems to be making excuses, her voice getting whiny. When she looks up at me, her eyes blaze both apology and defiance. I know she hadn’t been deliberately late so that I’d spank her harder; we don’t need to play those kinds of reverse psychology mind games. She’s genuinely tardy, as Laura often is; she just assumes whoever’s waiting will be patient and forgive her. All her friends have gotten used to it, considering themselves on “Laura time” when they’re meeting her. Even I, for the most part, have adapted, but our spanking dates are special. I’ve made it clear that she’s to treat them with the utmost importance and care, if she’s truly dedicated to our play.
Just because she wasn’t late on purpose, though, doesn’t mean she’s above trying to tease me into going easy on her. She steps forward, pushing me until I relent and let her inside. Then her hand goes automatically to my cock. “Miss me?” she asks with a smirk as she massages my dick. The rules of our relationship are clear; I can spank her, and we can be naked together, but Evangeline doesn’t want me touching her private parts or her mine. We’ve found ways to push the limits of those restrictions, but I take care to abide by them, even though it’s maddening sometimes to watch her pussy get wetter and wetter as I smack her ass and not be able to feel just what I’m doing to her.
I grab her hand and shove it behind her back. She’s a feisty girl, and immediately tries to fight me, plunging us into a mock wrestling match I’m destined to win. “Aren’t you even going to say you’re sorry?” I ask, pinning her down so her hands are raised above her head, her cheeks flushed, her breathing heavy as she surrenders to my superior strength. I know that even that little bit of immobilization has her aching to be spanked¾and fucked.
“Maybe,” she says, her voice rising in the sexiest lilt I’ve ever heard. Even if she didn’t have the slamming body and completely masochistic nature she does, her voice could do me in every time.
“Maybe? Oh, I think more like definitely. I’m going to make you say you’re sorry, girl. You were forty-five minutes late! I really should’ve just left, and your punishment would’ve been to go home with your bottom just as pale and bare as it is right now. But I’m going to make you pay, don’t you worry,” I say, my cock stiffening as I speak the stern words. She sticks her tongue out at me, but rolls over quite willingly when I let up on her arms and nudge her over. I decide to start off right there on the floor, pulling off her shoes and tossing them into a far corner, where they land with a thud.
“You’re going to get forty-five whacks¾one for every minute you were late. I know, you think that’s nothing, but those won’t all be with my hand, I’m not that dumb,” I say as I push her skirt up. I yank off her fishnets, the tearing sound ringing pleasingly in my ears. Usually she gets totally naked, but her skirt is so short I can practically see her ass, and the image of the tiny garment shoved up above her lower curves, with her white cotton panties around her knees, is too hot to resist.
My dick is pressing upward against her stomach as she does her best to make me come in my pants, wiggling and squirming. I shove my fingers through her mass of sleek back hair and tugged, watching her neck bend backward just so. I tug harder, just enough to make her body ripple in pleasure. “Stay still, Laura; you’ll like this better. You’re going to count for me, and if you mess up, we’ll have to start over, but I know you won’t mess up,” I say somberly. She gazes back at me with a look that wouldd wrecked a lesser man, her moist lips slightly open, her eyes wide and luminous, her nostrils flaring, her need to be spanked, by me, etched as strongly into her skin as a tattoo. Over the course of our relationship, I’ve figured out just what sets her off, and I know how to take her into that magical sub space with just the sound of my voice and a simple tug on her hair or snap of my fingers.
I let go of her hair, catching the gentlest of sighs pass from her lips. Her ass is right there, all mine for the taking, wide and round and pale and perfect. She’s got just enough meat on her bones to make her rump perfect for spanking; girls who are too thin make me worry I might truly be hurting them, and I like asses that are wide enough to cover a range of smacks, ones where I need to hit them a few times to cover the entire cheek. I place my left hand on her lower back, letting my thumb just graze the upper edge of her asshole. I’d love to press it against her sweet puckered hole, but I save that for Evangeline. With Laura, it’s all about hinting, dancing just around the edge of our desire, getting the most bang for our buck, if you will.
I press down against her body, ensuring that she won’t jerk when the first blow lands. Then I raise my hand and bring it crashing down against her right cheek, hearing the boom, seeing her skin go from pale to pink in moments. “One, sir,” she says, her voice loud and direct. It always starts off strong, like she’s trying to show me just how powerful she can be even spread across my lap. By the end, I’ll have her whimpering out her numbers¾if I’m doing my job right.
I roll her slightly forward to get the best angle, then do the same to her
left cheek. “Two, sir,” she responds dutifully. I keep going
until ten, my palm stinging as the heat roars through our flesh. I pause
there, rubbing my palm against her curves, ready to take things to the next
level.
“Get
up,” I tell her, unceremoniously shoving her off of me. My cock is pressing
hard against my jeans, and I’m dying to whip it out and touch myself, even
for a minute, but I know that could lead to dangerous territory. If her mouth
goes anyway near my dick, as besotted as I am with Evangeline, I might not be
able to resist, so I keep it in my pants, literally, and work out my arousal
another way. She gives me that look again, the one that silently begs for more,
the one that tells me, without even looking, how turned on she is. “Bend
over the bed,” I tell her, and she hobbles up, knowing I don’t
mean for her to change any part of her attire.
Not only do I like to see her bent over, but I also know this means her piercings press against her sensitive nipples, arousing her further. Her skirt has flipped back down to caress the curves of her ass, so I push it back up, noting how already in a few minutes the redness in her cheeks has faded slightly. I pick up the belt, wrapping its sturdy leather around my hand, then running it across her cheeks, tapping lightly. “Hmmm,” she moans, her head turned to the side, her eyes closed, as if lost in her own personal reverie. I need to snap her out of wherever she is right now and bring her back to me.
I push the belt to her lips, startling her eyes open. “Kiss it, then tell me what number’s next,” I demand.
Something breaks open inside me, swelling not just my cock but my insides, puffing me up, when her lips purse immediately. She gave the belt a solid smacker, then says in her most matter-of-fact tone, “Eleven, sir,” as if telling me what she’s made for dinner. Her eyes watch me, this time not so much begging as seeking, staring back at me an equal partner in our game. She knows just how much I like to spank her, and I know how badly she needs it, but both of us go along with this game anyway, adding to the thrill. Actually, making the thrill happen; without me on top and her below, spanking her would be no fun at all, something a machine could do just as well.
“Get ready,” is all I say as I move to the side so I can hover directly over her ass. Something about a woman’s bottom makes it look even hotter when raised the way she has it, so round and firm and tempting, like it was made with just such a kinky purpose, and no other, in mind. I let the belt whiz through the air once, its snap, crackle and pop music to my ears. I strike the air again, right next to her ass, and she squeaks, a high-pitched noise that sounds as beautiful as any melody. Then I strike her for real, slashing the stripe of leather against her flesh, searing her skin in a way my hand simply cannot do. “Eleven,” she chokes out in a robotic voice, as if it were not a number but the normal response when one has been struck dumb, literally. The pain blooms instantly on her skin, a pretty line that makes me want to lean down and kiss it. Taking away her pain is almost as enticing as causing it, but we have thirty four more whacks to go.
I let the belt lash against the area where her ass cheeks meet her upper thighs, that never-never land of sensual flesh that is disproportionately tender. Like when I’m fucking and trying to hold off from coming, I have to think about something else for a moment besides the beauty of her welting curves, her do-me posture, her have-me stance, her I’m-yours body language. Sometimes I wonder if the constraints on our spanking dates aren’t too much for either of us to bear. Evangeline has my heart, plain and simple, but my cock, my hands, my mouth, my power, those I would share with Laura, if I could. Instead, I must convey all that I want to do to her in these strokes, these beatings that take on so much more than their share of emotional energy.
She calls out the numbers as the belt slamms against her ass, spreading her legs just enough to give me a glimpse at what’s between them. I haven’t told her to, but I haven’t told her not to, and for the moment, I let it go, too pleased with the slick pink shine I se there to argue. I drop the belt at twenty-five, picking up the wooden paddle instead. I could insist on the blindfold, but I like the look on her face when she sees what I’m holding¾half horror, half need. It’s like the look Evangeline gets right before she comes, like she’s tempted to push me away, to stay teetering on the precipice instead of dropping over the waterfall’s edge. I know my job is to urge her on, for the reward is always so much greater than the risk.
The pain only lasts for a few moments, her ass smarting, but the pleasure will keep Laura going for days. I hold the toy that resembles a ping-pong paddle, only thicker, with holes to let air through, then tilt my wrist and let it fly against her reddened cheek. “Twenty-six,” comes out muffled as she absorbs the blow. I pause, trailing the backs of my fingers along her skin, then pinching a bit between my thumb and forefinger. I kneel down behind her and pull her cheeks apart, staring at the forbidden fruit of her pussy.
I need her to come, but I can’t interrupt the flow of our play. I deliver the final blows with the black leather paddle, the simple yet stern one, its shiny surface too cheerful for the kind of sting it delivers. Her voice rises and falls as my arm does the same, until her ass rivals her lips in terms of redness, even after she’s gnawed on her lower lip while taking her punishment.
If she were Evangeline, I’d simply pull down my zipper, get behind her, and shove my cock deep into her waiting hole. She’d convulse instantly around me, tears of joy filling her eyes but not tipping over, while I marveled at how her heat seemed to travel into my body. I’d try, but fail, to wait, and simply pump my hot lava into her tight tunnel, the explosion truly feeling volcanic. But she’s Laura, my play partner, my standing spanking date, my toy, even though she means no less to me where it counts.
Because it’s her and not my girlfriend, I will wait to jerk off until she leaves. But she can’t wait, and we both know it. “Lie down on your back,” I order. It takes her a few seconds through the haze of arousal to get into position, but I let her have them, knowing the crisp, clean sheets are rubbing against her sore ass. She goes to remove her panties, but I still her hand. “Keep them on,” I say, sliding them down to her ankles and hearing the fabric strain and rip slightly. I don’t care. I stand between her legs, holding her feet apart as she looks up at my towering presence, my erection practically undoing my zipper on its own. She used to be tentative, taking light swipes at her clit, only really indulging in her masturbation ritual until a good half hour had passed.
Now, she gets right into it, shoving three fingers deep inside while her other hand tweaks her nipples into tight, fierce points. “That’s it, fuck yourself for me, Laura. That’s your reward for taking your spanking like a good girl, even though you were late and had no excuse and are really a very bad girl to the core.” I like to punish and reward her at the same time when I can, plant a seed of doubt so she’ll give me some reason to keep on spanking her, besides the obvious. “Picture my cock sliding into your mouth, right now, me climbing on top of you, your wrists tied above your head, your lips open and ready. Your friend Kira is fucking your pussy with a dildo at the same time, and I’m pinning you down with my dick so you can’t move except to enjoy being filled in two holes at once.” I know my words are getting to her from the way she clenches her fingers, the way her face convulses, her eyes fluttering open to look at me, then shutting when the intensity gets to be too much. I wait, feeling triumphant when her climax seems to glide over her, making her curl up into herself. I let her go, let the panties slide off as she does what she needs to do. I’m absolutely turned on, but also wistful, wishing I could touch her and help take her to that higher place.
She gives me her panties as a present, a souvenir to sustain me until next time, a little secret for me to hide away, a compromise between my allegiance to Evangeline and my unquenchable need for Laura, and her sweet ass. “So I’ll see you next week, at six, right?” I ask as she steps into her gargantuan shoes, the height making her look older, wiser, but still just as needy of a spanking. She nods, and I grab her chin, holding her face and gaze steady. “Don’t be late, or you may really get what’s coming to you,” I warn, trying to summon the proper vengeful tone. I can’t quite get there, though, because no matter how late she is, I’ll still want, no, make that need, to spank her, still lust after her and dream about her ass even when I have my girl’s firm curves right before me.
And no matter what I use on Laura when she’s bent over, no matter how firmly I plant my hand upon her skin as she’s asking for it harder and stronger, she knows who really holds the paddle in this relationship. She’s got me exactly where she wants me¾on top, looking down at her, my hand raised, my dick hard. And if you want to know the truth, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
“Hello?”
“Good, I’m glad you’re home. I’m coming over in five minutes. Turn off your TV or computer or whatever else you have on. When I get there, I want you to be completely naked and ready for me. I’ll let you know what to do when I get there. Okay?” I snap this out in my best commanding tone, never letting on that I’m shaking and nervous. I say this as if I talk this way all the time, even though so far I’ve only hinted at what a bitch I can be. I have a clear sense of direction and purpose, have summoned all my power for one final, explosive encounter that will only work if I play it cool.
I arrive a few minutes later and knock briskly on the door. He opens it naked but with sandals on. I march right in, pushing past him, pulling Karla into the room after me, daring him to ask me who she is or what she’s doing here. Maybe he knows, maybe he doesn’t, but it’s not my problem.
“What are those doing on your feet?” I ask disdainfully, pointing at the sandals. I don’t wait for him to respond before continuing, “Take those things off and get down on your knees.” Anticipating his protests about the dusty floor, I bark, “Don’t argue, just do it!”
I hand Karla the bag and signal to her to fish out the riding crop I’ve packed specifically for this occasion. I feel much bigger than my 5'2" height, and not only because of the severe black heels I’m wearing. This is good, because he’s big and strapping and I need all my willpower to go through with it. When he’s on the floor, I nudge him with my foot, tapping his ass and telling him to start crawling. We follow him as he leads us to his office. “Now get up.”
He keeps looking at me with those puppy-dog eyes that beg me to pet and kiss and coddle him, to give him a hint of the affection he’s come to crave from me. But affection isn’t a one-sided transaction, and I have only so much attention to give without getting what I require in return. I’ve been waiting for his side of the bargain, his compliance with my very simple demand, a question in search of an answer, and so far he hasn’t come close. It’s time to teach him a lesson.
He sits in the chair, and I secure his ankles to the chair’s legs, then wrap bondage tape around his chest and knees, in enough places so that I’m confident that he’s secured. I want to bind both his wrists with rope but settle for only one, leaving the other free, not because I want him to use it, but to tempt him into committing acts I’ll have to punish him for later. Karla senses that I don’t need her help and goes off to the adjoining bedroom to wait for me.
“Even though I know you want to be the best little boy you can be and obey all my commands to the letter, I’m a little worried that you’re going to try to talk to me or scream or make noise that will distract me from fucking Karla. So I’m just going to have to tape your mouth to prevent you from even attempting anything like that.”
I pull off a length of the shiny red tape and fasten it over his mouth. I slap his cheeks lightly, one and then the other, and then, because it feels so good, again. His cheeks take on a rosy tone. “You look good like that. Don’t you agree?” I ask in a babying tone as I pinch one cheek, hard. He nods, and I smile in response.
As I step back to survey my handiwork, he looks at me beseechingly. I bring my hand forward and caress his cheek. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you, all alone out here with only a video to keep you company, turned around so you can’t see us all naked and fucking each other? Have you ever seen two girls together? I bet you haven’t, but the thought of it turns you on. I bet you’d like to watch, like to see her sucking on my nipples and me licking her pussy, like to see me lay her across my lap and spank her.”
I look down and notice his cock twisting from his restrained lap, and I can’t resist a brief stroke over his hardness. “Not that I know for sure what you’re into, since you’ve been a bit reticent with that information, haven’t you? But on this count I know I’m right. You would like that a lot, wouldn’t you?”
He nods.
“Well, you’ll just have to guess what we’re doing, though if you’re lucky you might get to hear her scream a little bit. But you’re not gonna see any of it. I did bring this video to keep you company, and I selected it especially for you.”
As I put the cassette in the VCR and queue it up, I’m reminded of my babysitting days, when a cartoon was all it took to pacify a screaming, whiny child. This video is for adults only, but I hope it will have the same effect. “Now, I’m going to get you settled in here and leave you with this video, and I want you to be good and quiet and pay attention. There’ll be no stroking your cock. Like I said, I picked this video especially for you because I think there are some good lessons you can learn about what it means to be a good boy and respond to orders, and you’ll see in it what happens when you don’t. I want you to watch carefully what kinds of punishments these mean mistresses dish out, because that should give you a little taste of what’s in store for you when I get back.”
I watch as his eyes fixate on the image of a large man strung upside down from the ceiling of a dungeon, while two scantily clad, sexy women beat and torture him. A quick glance at his cock shows me that it at least is reacting positively to the images on the screen. I don’t dare give away the fact that the video actresses are much stricter than I could ever be, even in my imagination, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try my best. I pull a clothespin out of my pocket and present it to him. “There’s a reason I left your hand free, and it’s not so you can play with your cock. It’s for this. You can put it anywhere on your body that you want to, but when I come back I want to see it attached to you, somewhere. Otherwise I’ll have the pleasure of clamping it somewhere very painful myself. Got that?”
I stand in front of him, blocking his view, daring him to try to twist to watch the TV around me, or otherwise stare right at my bulging breasts. My eyes bore into his, wondering if he can even appreciate the emotions underlying my actions. Yes, I know he’s been craving some sort of abuse from me, but he’s also pissed me off to the extreme. I have to watch myself that I don’t go overboard, don’t take too much of my anger out on his willing skin. The babysitting image returns when I think of how childishly he’s been acting lately, wanting all the fun and none of the responsibilities of a real relationship. My questions go repeatedly unanswered, even though I find it hard to believe that a grown man doesn’t have a response, can’t articulate in words what gets him hard, what turns him on, what he wants. Women are supposed to be the mysterious, hard-to-read creatures, men as easy as saying, “Fuck me.” But it doesn’t actually work that way in the real world.
I wonder if I can hurt him enough that he’ll give me the verbal contact that I crave, the communication that has been missing since the earliest days of our relationship. I wonder if there will come a day where I can ask him to spin me a fantasy, to let me into his head, even if only for a moment. Sadly, I don’t think that’s in the cards for us, so I’ll take what I can get from him and move on.
“Now, watch your video like a good little boy. I’m not giving you a pen to take notes, but I hope you’ll remember what you’ve seen because I’m gonna ask you about it. I’ll be in the other room, but don’t expect me back until I’m good and ready. And don’t even think about trying to escape. When the video is over, you can sit there and play with your clothespin, but you’re not to touch yourself and certainly not to come under any circumstance. Believe me, I’ll know if you do. Got that?”
He nods again, and I walk away, filed with an energy that bursts through my whole body. I enter the bedroom and see Karla lying there, leafing through a magazine, and wonder if she’s heard what exactly went on in the office. The sight of her fills me with an irresistible urge to touch her, taste her, to have her and never let her go. I forget any potential awkwardness over the fact that I’ve been naked in here with him, as well. Now it’s only about me and her, nobody else. I have a brief urge to close the door, even though I know that there’s no way he can come in here to watch. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Whenever I’m with her—whether we’re in a private bedroom or on a public dance floor—it seems as if we’re completely alone. I can melt into her, close my eyes, and all of a sudden the other people surrounding us disappear. We’re the only ones in existence, and she’s the only one occupying my attention.
The immature man I’ve just teased and taunted is nothing compared to her.
She glances up as I walk in, a slightly sheepish look on her face. Neither of us says anything, but a spark of understanding and desire fills the air. I pull her close to me and quickly undo her pants, then slide them down her thin legs. She’s so small that sometimes I feel as if I’m with a doll, an otherworldly creature who is tender and delicate. And while she can be those things, she’s shown me her strength and passion and vulnerability. I don’t have to treat her like a soft flower.
“What have you been doing in here? Have you been good? Were you listening to what I said to him?”
She nods, a slightly contrite look on her face tinged with a hint of mischief. “Did you like that, Karla? Hmmm? Did you like the way I talked to him?” By now her pants are all the way off and I press the back of my hand against her panties, finding them wet and warm. “I think you did. I think you liked hearing me tease him and yell at him, didn’t you?” I slide her panties to the side and stroke her, already so wet I want to plunge right in. Every time I touch her it’s new and beautiful; I could get lost in her pussy and never return to the real world. I press more firmly, stroking only the outside of her wet slit even as I feel her pushing up against me.
“What was that, baby? Is there something you want from me? If there is, you’re gonna have to tell me what it is. You should know that, especially after all I’ve been through with that one out there not letting me in on his secrets. I’ll move closer so you can whisper in my ear.” I pick her up and position her so she’s across my lap face up, her face next to my ear and her pussy within arm’s reach.
As much as I want to think that things with each of them are totally separate, that I’ve been conducting two equivalent relationships operating in separate spheres, inside, they have overlapped. The charge I got from tying him up, from knowing that I could do whatever I wanted to him, has bled over into my time with her. I’m surprised that after all these years being told what to do, and liking it, the other side of the equation seems to fit me perfectly. My breathing quickens as she rubs up against me, her ass pressing into my lap and her face nuzzling my neck. I cup my hand over her pussy and leave it there, willing her to sit still. She does. The squirming stops and there is only silence and stillness, searching and sweet anticipation. I feel myself getting wetter as I realize that whatever is about to happen is under my control; I can go in whatever direction I want.
Just like that, with a split-second realization of power, I’m gushing. I push two fingers into her pussy, knowing that she’s ready so I don’t need to warn her. I press deeper and feel her arch up against me, her head lolling back as she tries to take me in and stay in control, but she can’t. I push as far as I can go, then ease out of her. She grabs my wrist and tries to push me back inside her.
“Soon, baby, soon, don’t worry,” I whisper in her ear.
She whimpers and tosses her head back and it’s a sight to behold, my Karla spread out before me as my personal plaything.
“Spread your legs for me, baby. There, that’s good,” I tell her as her legs widen and I can see all her pretty pinkness. I have no idea whether her other lovers talked to her like this. I am now getting used to figuring out what she wants and how I can give it to her.
I bring my hand upward and then down on her pussy, softly at first, then with my fingers I keep going—tap, tap, tap—against her, knocking lightly at first, then harder as I see that she likes it. As if something inside me has taken over, and I’m in a trance, I bring my hand back and forth again and again, gaining in intensity each time. I pause for a moment, afraid that I’m going to get swept away in my actions and hurt her, but she begs me to continue. I do, slapping her cunt and then once more slipping first two and then three fingers inside her, all with an urgency that we can both feel; I must fuck her right now or it will be too late. I push my fingers inside her, feeling for the most sensitive areas, pressing up and then to the side and almost wanting to cry with the magic of being so close to her center.
I let her lean back onto the bed and with my other hand press on her stomach and then slide lower, massaging her clit while pressing against her, covering her in my touch until she cries out and I feel her squeeze my fingers with a fierce intensity. I slowly pull out, awed by what has just happened, so fast and so furious. Awed but not shocked because it’s like this every time we’re together, with everything so new and raw and fresh I feel both like a wide-eyed virgin and like an old woman, full of power and wisdom. I pull her toward me and hold her, get lost in her for another spell of time as we recover.
When we finally emerge, I’ve lost track of time. I’m sure the video is long over. I wonder if he’ll have his eyes closed, or be playing with his dick, or trying to escape. But when I come out, pulling a naked Karla along behind me, he’s sitting there looking very angelic, his free hand dangling by his side, appearing so casual you’d think he could almost have strung himself up because he was bored.
“So, how was the video? Did it bore you? Is that why you’re just sitting there? Where’s the clothespin?” I say this louder than I need to, because I can, because I like the sound of my voice and want to startle him, and because I know that for once nobody is going to tell me to lower my voice.
He produces the clothespin with his free hand.
“Why didn’t you put I somewhere? If I’d known you were going to not follow my instructions, again, I’d have tied up both your wrists.”
His face reddens.
“What I think I’m gonna do is give it to Karla to put on you.”
I slap his face for emphasis and present the pin to Karla. I know she won’t do too much damage to him, thinking she’ll try a finger or other easy spot, but she surprises me and zeroes in on his right nipple. I give him a look to silence any potential protests. There are so many delicious possibilities of what I can do with him now that I wonder how I’ll manage to choose only one. I bend down and loosen his ankles from their bonds, knowing what I want, at least at this moment. With that extra bit of freedom, there has to be a tradeoff, and I secure his free arm behind his back since he won’t be needing it right now. He looks up at me, a challenging expression on his face, as if he’s ready to duel even though it’s clear that with my ammunition I’ll win easily. But since that’s what he ultimately wants, I guess he wins, too. That kind of win/lose thinking is too confusing for me, so I shut everything else out of my mind except how this scene will end. It’s the last time I’ll see him, ever, so I have to make the most of it.
“I did that for a reason. Now, spread those legs for me. That’s good,” I say soothingly, buttering him up before I take him down. I raise the crop from the desk and hold it in my hand, surveying my subject. I still don’t know if he understands why I’m really angry, but this isn’t about my anger anymore, it’s about something much deeper and darker than that. It’s sad that we won’t get to play like this again, but I don’t have enough time to waste on immature men who think a top’s job is to guess their fetish. I step forward so I’m again standing before him and lean down. I know he thinks I’m going to suck his cock, like I’ve done so many other times, but instead I go farther, licking my way along his thighs before sinking my teeth into his flesh. I bite without care for how it will feel for him, only knowing when to stop the moment I feel my teeth sink into tender skin, then keep going.
I pause, sucking on his thigh, wondering if this will give him a hickey. I continue on to the other thigh, and feel him try to thrash against the chair.
I stand and motion to Karla to come join me. She walks toward us and presses her naked body against my back. I reach behind me and fondle her wherever I can, wanting to kiss her and hold her, but knowing there’ll be plenty of time for that later. For now, this brief contact will have to do. I lead her to a chair and have her sit and observe. Then I take the crop and slide its tip down his body, from his head down his cheek, over his chest, tapping it lightly against the clothespin for a moment before continuing. It reaches his cock and I see his arms jerk, trying to move forward to protect his precious jewels, but there’s nothing he can do. I bat at him lightly, watch as his cock turns even pinker.
“Spread your legs wider,” I instruct him, and he does. I raise the crop and then let loose, tapping and then hitting, harder and harder, along his inner thighs. He winces and tries to move, attempts to bring his legs together, but I work my knee between them, pressing gently against his balls as a reminder that I’m the one in charge. I continue this torment until I have the urge to form something stronger; I only have a little room to work with between his legs. I throw the crop onto the floor and straddle him, rubbing my pussy up and down along his cock. It feels good, no doubt, and for an instant I’m truly tempted to see what he would do with his cock if he could, but it’s too late for that.
How many chances did he have to fuck me, and didn’t? And now he wants it, for some strange reason. I want to leave him tied up here but sense that he needs something more. I get out my pocket knife and swiftly slice through the bondage tape and remaining ropes. I like the way the knife feels in my hand, the implicit threat that I would never use, though he doesn’t need to know that. There’s so much that he doesn’t need to know, will never know, now.
I push him roughly off the chair, and even though he outweighs me by a good eighty pounds, he staggers and has to catch himself from falling off.
“Get up against the wall,” I tell him, motioning where I want him to go. While he positions himself, I get a few more implements out of my bag, holding the firm leather of the paddle in my hand and feeling a calmness overtake me. I am about to settle a score, make us both even, give him the beating he’s been secretly craving, fulfill the fantasy he’s been too afraid to tell me he wanted to do. And for that silence, ultimately, he will lose me. Ironic, actually, but meant to be. I shake my head lest I stand here too much longer regretting what might have been.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, Miss,” he says quietly. He’s had enough time, perhaps too much, to prepare himself. I close my eyes for a moment and focus on what I want, then open them and step over to him. If I were taller, I could simply lean forward and whisper in his ear, but suddenly I’m glad I’m not. There’s no need to pretend that we share a false intimacy. This is simply a quid pro quo transaction that will give each of us something we’ve been craving, but also leave both of us needing more.
“I’m going to spank you with this paddle, once for every year of your age. You’re going to count the strokes for me, and when I’m done you’re going to stand there until we leave. Do you understand?” I allow no emotion to enter my voice.
“Yes, Miss.”
I start off sharp and strong, then ease off a little—not the usual way to do it, but this is a special occasion, the first and last time for this particular configuration, and I will do it my way. After ten strokes, I pause and place my hand over his reddened skin, kneading the warmth I feel there. With each squeeze, I feel him wriggle and I press my entire body up against his. I’ve chosen his age for the number of whacks as a symbol of all that he should know by now and doesn’t, and also because I need a stopping point or we could be here forever. As I massage his ass, I know that there’s a part of me that will regret leaving, despite all our differences; that will regret not going further. I wonder if it’s my own fear, too, that has contributed to this détente, but even if it is, there’s no going back. Before taking the next swing, I look over at the naked and sublime Karla, who is sitting and watching silently. I have no idea what she thinks, or whether she understands, but I hope that she does. I keep up a solid, even pace, with well-placed blows that land as harshly as I intended them. He tries not to make any noise, but I can hear the changes in his breathing, see the way his ass moves ever so slightly as it eagerly awaits my strokes. For the last three, I turn the paddle over so that the mean indentations on the other side—the one I’ve never dared use before—are facing him.
I step closer and say, “These last strokes are really going to hurt, so get ready.” I say the words gently, tenderly, almost as if I want to protect him from myself, which in its own way is the truth. Suddenly, I want to step back, put the paddle down, leave. I don’t know if I can finish the job, or if I care enough to expend the energy, but I must somehow, because after a deep breath I lift my arm again.
The three of us hear the loud smack as the paddle connects with his ass, and his hand hits the wall with a thud as he tries to process the pain. I don’t let that stop me, and again repeat the motion on the other cheek. Before the final blow, the room is crackling with tension. Karla is standing now, staring, rapt as I take a quick glance at her and then back at him. He is tall, big, strong, and yet vulnerable here. I feel tears prick my eyes at how much I sense that he would give me, if only he knew how. I feel forgiveness settle into my body, knowing that he has not deliberately hurt me, only done the best that he could do. Alas, that was not enough for my needs, but maybe he will find someone for whom it will be.
I bring my arm back and release all the hurt, pride, honor, and forgiveness, and I almost feel it all leave me and enter him. The sound this time isn’t quite as loud, but it leaves the room singing with its noise nonetheless. I want to say something, even if it’s only “goodbye,” but I can’t. I press my hand against his back, letting my touch do the speaking for me, before quietly gathering my things. He leans his head against the wall, his eyes closed. Before we leave, I pull Karla close to me and we hug for a long minute. Then I grab our bag, let her dress, and take her hand as we go. We head to the park and sit on a bench and I lean my head on her shoulder, and we sit for a long time. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there are some things that can be said without words, with bodies and breath and movement. I lean over, bury my head in her neck, and she holds me. I don’t even know what I feel—relief, sadness, hope perhaps. Whatever it is, words are not enough to convey it. I smile at that, knowing that he would understand perfectly.
Amber lingered at La Petite Coquette, her hand reaching out to stroke all manner of silk and lace in all the most beautiful colors. She studiously avoided the price tags and the other shoppers at the high-class Greenwich Village store; her eyes were solely on the luxurious merchandise, the bras scalloped with flowers along their artfully stitched edges, the camisoles that promised to caress her every curve, the panties that offered her tight but imperfect ass the promise of supermodel stardom. She put one hand on her belly and with the other dove into a drawer full of lace, innocently fondling it as she imagined how her body would change in the coming months. Right now, it was imperceptible, her own little secret, and she was free to pretend she was just another sweet young thing, pretty as a peach, looking for the perfect item to enhance what was an already perfect body.
She declined the salesgirl’s offer of help, preferring to do the browsing herself, with her eyes and her fingers, weaving through the potpourri-scented wares and trying to block out the jostling customers—flirtatious couples, uncomfortable men, a girl who had to be in high school, with A-cup boobs to match—until she came upon her own little slice of heaven. It wasn’t the sexiest thing in the store, certainly; there were no cutouts or special effects, nothing to draw even more attention to her weighty breasts, still high and firm, simply the most gorgeous blue, a turquoise worthy of a peacock, woven with delicate bits of lace. It was a slip, but so much more than a slip. She couldn’t imagine wearing it under her clothes; not only would she be way too turned on, but a slip like this, at a price like that, deserved better, and Amber was going to give it exactly what it deserved.
She paid for her private treasure, watching the saleswoman delicately wrap it in pink paper, leaving the store with a smile tricking about her lips. She went home and took a long, luxurious bath, the hot water finding its way into every spot she’d known was sore, and many she hadn’t. She had plenty of time before Nick got back from the game, and used it well, lying around in bed with their biggest, fluffiest white towel wrapped around her like a cocoon. She tried to read but found her mind wandering back to the slip, to the way holding it as it threatened to slip from her grasp. She finally got up reluctantly replacing the towel on its rack, then smoothing raspberry-scented lotion up her long, newly shaved legs, onto her arms and hands. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror, bare, freckles dotting her cheeks, tousled red curls framing her face, still lean, those proud breasts, the still-flat stomach housing her most magnificent work yet, tangle of ruby pubic hair hiding what lay beneath, strong legs keeping her up, toes sparkling with silver polish. She smiled at herself, the kind intended to warm viewer and viewee, the kind that starts in the mind but in the act of raising the corners of one’s lips, makes itself known, demanding an answer. Then she grinned, her smile morphing into something not forced but felt, fully.
And, grinning, is how she slipped into the $200 slip, the one she’d been too anxious to try on in the store. A cramped dressing room was no place for her body to be introduced to such a luxury. No, here in the privacy of her own bathroom, she let the silky turquoise fall against her, let the lace caress the tops of her breasts, her nipples threatening to peek through the mesh pattern. Somehow, the slip managed to straddle the line between elegant and sexy, between upper class wife and downtown whore, quite perfectly. She put her hand on her hip, moaning aloud at the slippery perfection of this fabric against her skin. She’d bought a tiny matching pair of panties, ones that just spanned the curves of her ass, but she Amber decided to forgo them. Standing, the slip’s deliberately distressed hem grazed the tops of her thighs, the zigzagging lace pattern drawing attention upward.
Though she was generally prone to modesty, topped with a good dose of body image issues, the sight before her was so sexy that Amber couldn’t help bringing her fingers under its hem to stroke her own creamy folds. The additional hormones floating through her body combined with her joy at surprising Nick, and herself, was too much for her, and she knew she need to come right then and there. While she watched in the mirror, looking on as if viewing a live action peep show, which in a way this was, her hand dipped under the glorious silk, crushing it to her stomach as her fingers climbed their way to ecstasy, first meandering along her juicy slit, then pushing deeper, seeking more. She made herself keep watching, even when she longed to close her eyes and float way on the sensory overload of probing fingers and nipples pushing against silk, of hard and soft, bending, hiding, seeking, all joining together. From this angle, she couldn’t see everything, and that was okay. It was enough to watch her first two fingers disappear inside herself, emerging wet and gleaming before plunging back in. She stepped closer, so she was touching the mirror, her fingers fogging it up, humping it almost as her body writhed against the hard surface, the slip the third player in her little game. It was so light, had felt like nothing when she’d taken the bag from the clerk, but it was that lightness, that delicate touch that she had to focus on to feel, that kept her going. With her free hand, Amber rubbed her body, rejuvenating her self-love, the kind she remembered from rolling around in the grass of her backyard as a child.
She rubbed herself aggressively, wrapping the turquoise around her slim body, teasing her nipples by pinching them in turn between the softness as she got wetter and wetter. She longed to lift the sip above her head and slide it between her legs, let it sop up the wetness she’d been building, but she waited for Nick, even though part of her knee she was ruining the garment with her clawing and grabbing. She didn’t care, and as her breath fogged up the mirror even more, she leaned against it for comfort, coolness, support, fucking herself twofold as she finally shut her eyes and relented, gave herself up, wholly and fully, to her own urges, no one else’s. She forgot about the baby, forgot about her husband, forgot about the store and the weather and dinner. All Amber knew was the ache deep inside, the raw need to be filled, full, fucked, and she crammed a third finger inside, maneuvering her thumb to get at her swollen clit.
“Yes,” she whispered, then said it louder, her lips brushing the mirror as she spoke, the tiny word growing bigger, bolder, having greater purpose the more she spoke it her “yes” traveled from her lips on down, resounding along her flushed chest, her proud nipples, past her stomach to where she needed it most. The “yes” seemed to slip onto her fingers, to become something more than three little letters as she kept saying it over and over as her fingers merged with her flesh, wet and urgent until they homed in on what they needed. “YES,” she finally cried out, the noise coinciding with the crash of the open door as Nick walked in. He heard the finally cry, but couldn’t quite figure out what it meant.
Meanwhile, Amber sank down onto the ground, her bare ass against the pink carpet, her back to the cool tile wall as her hands lay at her sides. That’s how Nick found her, the foggy window and his beloved with a look of half bliss, half exhaustion across her face. He was about to ask if she was okay, but then wondered if she might be asleep. Her eyes were closed, but he’d heard her exclaim only moments earlier. Then he noticed the slip, and while he was still a typical man, stunned into submission by shiny objects, his brain lost in a fog of femininity, this time he did see what his wife had just bought, both the object in front of him and what it had done to Amber. He shut his mouth and leaned down, picking her up, cradling her in his arms. She was back to being his dreamgirl, the one whose image woke him in the middle of the night with a pounding heart and a hard cock, the one who he’d fallen for all those years ago. He carried her fireman style, her body splayed out before him, the slip’s ragged edge landing just above the thing layer of hair greeting her sex. His dick throbbed in his pants as she opened her eyes, lazily looking up at him, saying all she had to say with that gaze. This time, he didn’t place his hand on her belly, didn’t touch her like she might break.
He spread her legs wide, letting the slip ride up on her hips. He quickly stripped off his clothes, rubbing his cock against her slickness, then leaning forward to suckle one extended nipple, taking in the lace as he did. His tongue flickered against her raised pink bead, the lace suddenly not as soft as it pressed urgently against her bud, merging with it while he twisted her other one between his thumb and forefinger. Amber’s neck came up off the bed, straining, bending back, her legs widening as he pushed her from solid to liquid, melting her until she was all his. With her nipple trapped between his lips, he opened his eyes, gazing up at her enraptured face, her hands above her, gripping the headboard, her body primed for him. He could feel her urging him inside, her straining, asking, wanting him. He knew she’d already come without him, knew she’d had her private magic moment, and he smiled as he pictured her wearing just the slip, her panties on the floor, wet, useless. When she cried out, opening her eyes as if in shock as his teeth sank into her already-tortured skin, he pushed his way inside her, entering her with his entire cock. He buried his face between her breasts, burrowing into the warmth of her as her arms came down to stroke his head. He raised and lowered his hips, feeling her nails digging into the back of his neck while the slip was the only layer separating them.
When she wrapped her legs around him, clutching him tight, he knew he was a goner. He lifted his head from its perch and slowly removed the slip, raising it over her head, stroking it against her cheek as they met again, skin to skin, raw, pure, as needy for each other as they’d been when they first met. Needier, in fact, after all they’d been through. Just the two of them, for a little while longer. He took the slip and placed it half in her hand, half in his, holding her hand with the bundle of crushed silk and lace between them as he pounded into her again and again, grabbing for her other hand as his weight crushed her. He raised his hips just so, in that way he’d learned was her favorite, grinding himself through her tight tunnel until he simply couldn’t hold back any longer. “Amber,” he said, his voice low, husky, filled with so much more than simply her name. He repeated as his come surged forward, coating her as he thrust a few final times. He reached down to push against her clit, his thumb pressing it deep against her bone, right where she needed it, and she exploded again, this time ricocheting back against Nick, letting him catch her as she trembled. When she was done, she turned to her side, shoving her face into the balled-up wad of luxury that had started it all.
She thought of all the racks showcasing other possibilities—ones rimmed with fur, with crystals, with ties and bows, tiny buttons and helpful wires. She pictured herself rolling around on the ground, naked, as Nick threw each new sensuous garment onto her until she was buried in a pillow of lingerie, letting it cover her entire body. She saw all the colors and styles she hadn’t picked pass before her mind’s eye, and Amber knew—she’d made the right choice. In the store, and in her heart. She kept the slip on as she curled against Nick’s bare chest, and he put his hand on her back, his fingers resting against the lace. He didn’t even show her the surprise he’d gotten her, one he’d been sure would be the perfect treat; she was already wearing it.
“You have beautiful arches.” This is the first thing John said to me, before even saying hello. At first, I didn’t know what he meant. The only images that came to mind were McDonalds’ gleaming, golden ones. But then he came over to where I was sitting and reverentially lifted my foot, stroking the visible parts not covered by my brand-new black heels, which did, I admit, show off my arches to perfection. “I just have this thing for feet,’ he said with a totally enraptured look on his face. “When a woman has the right type of foot, wow, it’s just the most arousing thing. I’m John, by the way.”
I shook his hand, looking him up and down. We were both working at a local nightclub, me as a coat check girl and he as the new bartender. He was large, not quite the size of a football player, but definitely a nice, meaty, manly size, just the way I like ‘em. We talked for most of the night when we weren’t busy with customers, and he slipped me drinks on the sly. As the night wore on, we started making eyes at each other. At one point, I slipped off my shoe and wound my black stocking-covered foot up my leg, while sipping daintily on the little straw in my drink. With each sip, I could feel a tingle begin between my legs and slowly work its way down.
John took a break towards midnight and came up behind me, putting his hands gently on my shoulders while leaning into me. His touch was light, but it sent waves of arousal rushing through my body, making me shift in my seat. He leaned closer, and spoke softly into my ear, his cheek nuzzling mine and his breath landing on the sensitive spot on my neck that always set me off.
“Girl, you’ve been driving me crazy all night,” he breathed. “I’m so hard because of you, because of the way you keep crossing your legs, thrusting that foot out in front of you for everyone to see. Every time I see it, I just want to grab it, press it to my lips, and kiss every inch of that pretty foot. Come home with me and let me show you what I’m talking about.” With every word he spoke, his hot breath and delicious words got me so turned on, I was soaking my panties by the time he was done. I knew I couldn’t refuse, but I didn’t want to let him know that yet.
When my shift ended, I pulled him into the now-empty coatroom where I again sat in my chair and motioned for him t kneel down in front of me. Poised above him, I thrust my foot out, commanding him with my eyes to show me what he could do. John ran a hand up my leg, from the sole of my foot up my calf, then my thigh, then pressed it against my cunt, sending waves of desire through me. He fondled me for a moment through my panties and stockings, caressing me with his thumb, before gliding his hand back down to lift my foot to his mouth. He licked and sucked my toes and the bottom of my foot, but it felt like my whole body. It was the most delicious foreplay of my life, and I was definitely ready for more.
The whole train ride to his house, he whispered into my ear all the things he wanted to do to me, and to my feet. When we finally got to his place, he knelt in front of me again and gently unbuckled each shoe as his cock twitched in delight. He drew his hand over and around each foot, stroking the exposed top and the leather before sliding his fingers between the sole of my foot and the inside of my shoe. It tickled slightly, and when I moved my foot to try to escape, he grabbed me more tightly, determined to have his fun. I don’t often like to admit it, but I enjoy being manhandled on occasion, just as much as the next tough gal. I shivered as he took charge, nuzzling and biting at my feet, obviously in some kind of sexual heaven. We played footsie for a few more minutes until we were both so ravenous for each other we couldn’t stand it. I thought he’d strip me bare, but he re-buckled my shoes and pushed me back onto the bed, only pushing up my skirt and pulling down my panties and stockings, the minimum clothing removal necessary.
Enough with the niceties and foot fondling, I thought, as he spread my legs wide open, lapping at me in wide, delicious strokes. He pushed a lone finger into me, teasing me as he moved it back and forth. It felt good, but by then I was ready for more. The buildup had been too much, and I was ready for whatever he had to offer me. He continued to stroke me for several minutes, adding more of his meaty fingers until I thought I would explode. My toes, my legs, my cunt, my head, my whole body tingled with anticipation and arousal.
Finally, he slid his cock into me, without preamble or warning. I was a little surprised, but I liked the way he took charge. He thrust into me, pushing deeply, and made me suck in my breath. Each movement felt entirely, totally delicious as he lifted my legs up onto his shoulders, and entered me even more deeply. I couldn’t’ move at all, and could only focus on his cock slamming into me again and again. Then he turned his head and licked my shoe, licking the shiny leather, and then the exposed top of my foot. Again it tickled, in that maddeningly wonderful way that the first stirrings of orgasm do. I tried to wiggle away, but I couldn’t move. “Take them off,” he grunted as he continued ramming his cock into me. I strained to lift my hips and meet him halfway, while in a daze, I unbuckled his shoes, letting them drop to the floor. He turned his head and pressed his whole face directly against one foot and then the other, his cock, buried inside of me, not moving. I saw what he wanted, and pressed my feet on either side of his face, framing it. He closed his yes and turned his head back and forth, pressing it into my feet like they were my breasts, comforting and warm.
Then he began thrusting again, grabbing my left foot and licking my toes before sucking as many as he could into his mouth. I’d never been into any kind of foot play before, but this was different. His warm tongue and the rapturous look on his face made me tingle all over. My whole body felt hot because of him, and as he sucked on my toes and rocked his hips, I came, squeezing my cunt and my thighs as I felt the orgasm grab me. He felt it too, the way my pussy pursed around him, and my
