At Dawn

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It was a dream, within a dream
Wrapped in a memory.

The streets were wet and empty-
Deserted in the middle of another rainy night.

Running fast to no end, but as the distance rolled out
Found it easier to drop to all fours and gallop.

Hands clattered along the shiny brick
As a dog’s claws on ceramic.
Slipping left-sliding right;
Gaining precious purchase then sliding back,
Making no progress.

I was telling this to my Aunt Peggy-
Not in her doughy middle age-
But as she had been.
Slim and boyish; twenty-five to my
Lusty Sixteen.

She leaned close,
All overbite and collar bones
And told me that I should.
That she would.

I whiffed flowers
Hyacinth-
At the base of her neck.

You should, she whispered,
Eyes wide open.

Her mouth tasted of spearmint.
Her soft tongue,
Alive and welcoming.

You should, she whispered.

 

“A little anisette, please…” Part ll

(Continued from “A little anisette, please…”)

The glowing wafer of moon slipped thinly into the chalice of the hills.

“I am not worthy to receive you…” the long forgotten words clattered across his memory like a broken strand of pearls. “…but only say the words….” He was startled to hear himself speaking aloud and bit his lips too late. The sweeping sound of her breathing was gone-leaving a silent void. He inhaled deeply as if to smell whether he had awakened her.

She was on her side so when he looked down he saw only her right eye glowing back at him. Her lips, always full, seemed swollen. He bent to them and kissed her. Gently. Dryly. She returned his kiss over her shoulder then, like a cat, pushed her haunches still wrapped in sheets back into him.

“You are definitely not worthy”, she said huskily-her voice full of sleep.

“Of anything.”

“Release my legs”, she told him.

“I don’t want to hurt you now…” he said quietly. Last night was last night. This was a new day.

“Release my legs”.

The knots melted in his fingers. A lifetime on the lake, sailing, boating and fishing made ropes and knots his superpower. Before she could imagine how she was bound, she was free. Still on her side she pulled her right knee up then, when he uncovered her, lifted her top leg toward the ceiling, opening and still pushing backward. From another woman this would have been an invitation. From her, it was a summons.

Hard since he’d walked into the room he held back and grasped her ankle, then slid his hand down the muscles of her leg-pausing to outline the panther on her thigh. It rippled across her quad and roared up the inside of her thigh directing with white teeth and a blood-red tongue where he should go next.

“Do you want your hands?” he asked.

“No”. She kept them, still bound, clutched at her throat like a child curling her loose hair around her long slim fingers.

He settled on his side poking like a blind dog against her still bruised bottom cheeks. She rolled slightly and pushed backward further. Even in the dim, dawn light she glistened as he slid inside-never surprised by how wet she was. She gasped, taking him all at once as he grunted-forcing himself all the way inside with a loud slap of flesh.

She answered his grunt and caught the wave of his thrusts, digging backward as he pushed forward. They quickened the pace and he held her leg high gripping the firm muscles and feeling the quiver coming from up top. She probably would have preferred to hold her leg up herself just with the core strength she never tired of yakking about but he just wanted a fucking handle. He grabbed her ass and kneaded.

Whatever didn’t work between them, this surely did. This always did. He listened for the breathing again; this time the quick gasping that signaled….here it came. As the bed creaked and rolled, he pushed-pushed-pushed thrust-thrust-quickening his pace-slapslapslap skin on skin until her gasping became a moan then a bark then a cry as she slammed her leg down like a guillotine holding him in place as he, with a last firm jam spewed his shuddering heat deep into her.

As they deflated, dissipated, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close as if wanting to contact as much of her skin as possible. He slid out of her and rested until he heard the telltale whispering of her wheezing. He allowed himself to be lulled to the edge of darkness before he roused and pulled gently away.

Without touching her he leaned over and untied the ropes on her wrists but she reacted not at all, lying as if in prayer. He retrieved the knife and put it on the bed stand then, reluctant to leave, kissed her shoulder, her back and ran is tongue along the salt of her hip. When he felt himself begin to swell, he rose and pulled the sheet up to her neck leaving her exactly as he’d found her. He left the door ajar.

Later with the morning sun high over the ridge she, still damp from the shower and clear-eyed as a child, joined him at the kitchen table. The silk robe parted as she gingerly sat affording him an easy view of her small, firm breasts. “Good Morning Glory”, he said mocking. She gifted him a half smile.

“I trust you welcomed the sun”, she said seeing that the sweat from his sunrise workout was already dried on his shirt.

“Someone had to do it” he said pushing away from the table. “Coffee?”

“Christ, yes.”

“Cream?”

“A little anisette, please.” He took the clear liquor from the sideboard and poured thickly closing his eyes to the sweet licorice scent filling the room. He placed the cup before her and kissed her on the top of her head and slid his hand inside her robe. “Always nice to have the girls for coffee”.

“Will you join me for sword later?” she asked ignoring his hand.

“Technical or Kumite?”

“I want to fight.”

He stepped back and regarded her carefully. She was talking into her coffee giving him nothing.

“Wood”, he said firmly. Their steel tournament swords weren’t razor sharp but carried enough of an edge to do damage. He would only fight her using the wooden swords. They had a way to make that interesting.

“Fine”, she said looking up. Her eyes had a sparkle rather than a gleam. Which was good. “Eleven?”

“Eleven it is”, he said. “Now drink your coffee.”

She blew on it and sipped.

“A little anisette, please…”

Moon Fall

He awoke slowly; grudgingly. The new pills not only kept him asleep through the night-or at least more of the night than he was used to-but made waking a slow, weighted swim up from of the bottom of a deep pool. It was a chore that he deferred most mornings. He allowed himself a few minutes gazing at the ridge line until he could just make out the bare limbs and branches etched against the graying sky.

He rose and stretched-hands high-counting the pops in his spine as he bent this way, then that.  Then listened to the cracks in his ankles as he walked, squinting to unlock the bedroom door in the darkness. An unnecessary precaution as it turned out but one he felt he had to take.

He padded across the hall and paused at the slightly open door to the front room-just as he’d left it. Her deep regular breathing was the only sound on the floor. He slipped the door open wide enough to enter. This side of the house fronted the lake and the light of the dawn moon falling over the far hills pointed a silver sword their way across the water. He watched the flickering light crawling directly at him and fell under the spell of her breathing.

He allowed himself to be borne away by her rhythm, inhaling deeply with her and exhaling as she did. Not being asleep, the exercise left him feeling winded-in need of quick swallows of air. The room carried the sweet aroma of his grandmother’s bread dough rising in her tiny kitchen-a heady mix of sleep, damp heat and last night’s lovemaking.

He approached the bed where she was on her side sunken deeply into the old mattress the sheet around her shoulders. He checked the knots around her ankles and gently slipped a finger between the bonds and her skin. Secure and not too tight. He then pulled back the sheet to check her wrists, bound before her as if in prayer. Her breath feathered the back of his hands. The rope securing her wrists to her ankles was likewise fast.

And lastly, the knife. His own deer knife, a nine inch blade sharp enough to shave, cut and gut. Happily, it was safely sheathed within her easy reach. His suggestion was to bind her lightly so she could easily release herself if necessary during the night. She instead wanted to be bound tightly, with the knife as her out card.

He knew she was mad from the first. But the first was so long ago that the knowledge did him no good now.

The World’s Worst Flirts

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He could see her behind the counter when he pulled up. Did he know she would be here? He had thought of her that morning for no particular reason, now here she was. Maybe he somehow knew that she worked weekends.

“Hi”, he said, pushing his way through the glass door which would have opened automatically had he waited for it. There was no one in the store but her. “I haven’t seen you in awhile.” She cocked her head slightly to one side expectantly so he pushed on. “I must not come in when you’re here.”

“You just don’t come in when I’m here”, she said.

She took his lottery card and ran it through the machine. Her face, round and scrubbed pink, opened in a smile when she handed him his ticket. Her teeth were tiny, baby-teeth but perfectly aligned. None of the others here had all of their teeth. At least he had that impression.

He opened his wallet when she said “Two dollars” and rifled through the receipts and paper scraps finally finding two triple-folded ones that he handed over. He failed trying to think of something clever and said, “I think I have enough.”

“Yep, you do” she said taking the bills with a smile. “Won’t have to make you mop the floors now.”

Taking the ticket and again, failing to think of anything clever, he looked at the floor and said, “I don’t think I could get down that low.”

“I think you could get down pretty low.”

What? Wait. On his way to the door he veered left, cutting off a quick exit to stare into the cooler. He’d buy an ice tea if he had another buck. He saw the reflection of his paint-spattered jeans, torn sweatshirt, his shapeless raincoat and ball cap. “Christ”, he thought and moved to the door again.

“Have a good one”, he said this time waiting for the hydraulic whoosh to open it.

“You too”, her smile was noncommittal to the point that it almost not a smile at all.

She works Saturdays he told himself trying to carve it in his memory. I’ll have something better to say next week.

Inside, she wondered idly where she had seen him before.

“However…” Part III

Continued from “However…” Part II

”I can stop the spanking now”, said Taylor allowing her fingers to slide deeper between Dana’s legs. “You’ve been adequately punished for your tardiness. But I could…” she went on after a moment, “…do something to make you feel a little….better?” As she said that she drew her hand up into the dampening space as Dana lifted her bottom into her hand. “Yes, please…” she moaned.

As she lifted her tingling bottom higher so that the woman’s determined finger could get more deeply…deeply into her, Dana took a moment to reflect. This morning, Taylor Grayling was a well-paying fitness client and maybe friend. No, not really friend-it was a business relationship; she was a client. A client whose fingers felt so good up inside of her right now. “Eeep”, she gasped as she felt that finger swirl around the outside and slide gently and wetly back in.

This morning Dana had awakened somewhere in the eighth barren month without a lover. The only thing in those months that had been up inside her like this were on the ends or her hands or was blue and battery-operated. This she liked better. Oh, yeah, and this morning she had awakened having not had sex with a woman in ten years-and that was freshman year and the story went she was drunk and didn’t really know…or remember…or…whatever. It was her story, she’d stuck with this this long. But now?

“Come on. Up”, said Taylor slapping her lightly on the bum.

“Oh Nooo…”

“Come on…Let’s go.”

Dana arose unsteadily and allowed herself to be pushed toward the door that led into the house, down a short hallway and up a flight of stairs toward a little used wing of the large house. “Go! Go! Go!” Taylor hurried her from behind lightly smacking her on the bottom every step of the way.

At the top, Dana allowed herself to be guided into a bedroom that she registered had been prepared. Dark curtains kept out the late morning sunlight, replaced by the bright flicker from dozens of candles. The soft sound of surf emanated from…everywhere as did the vague scent of eucalyptus. Inside Taylor kicked the door closed and turned her trainer to face her.

Taylor’s eyes weren’t exactly predatory-not exactly-but wide and wanton, glowing brightly in the candlelight. “Off with this!” she yanked at Dana’s T-shirt which she slipped over her head followed by her sports bra which released her small, perfectly formed breasts to immediately be set upon by Taylor’s mouth.  The older woman was hungry for this but gentle in her roughness-relying on every sound or twitch to direct her next move. Which in this case was forward as she pushed the now naked Dana slowly backward pinning her to the bed. She stopped and looked up, meeting Dana’s eyes.

“Who the fuck are you Taylor…?”

She smiled slyly and continued pushing her backward until Dana sat on the bed then further until she was prone but keeping her face close. “I’m the woman who’s going to put her face between your legs and her tongue in your pussy until you scream.”

“Nice to meet you, then.”

With that, Taylor slid down Dana’s tight body, pausing to nibble at her taut nipples, before leaving a glistening trail down her belly and finally to the wiry blond patch at the bottom. She paused just long enough to slide her hands across Dana’s bottom then below her legs pulling them up and out. Dana reached down and patted her lover’s hands before replacing them on the backs of her thighs and pulling her legs to her chest.

Taylor’s tongue knew well what to do with the wide open invitation. It played at the inside of Dana’s thighs then around the wet folds of her vulva-probing deeper with every revolution. “Ack!” Dana coughed as it flicked lightly at her asshole.

“Like that?” Taylor asked…

“Love that….”

There was no more talking as Taylor bent in earnest to her work. At this moment she wanted nothing more than to make love to Dana the best way she could; to give her the kind of experience that would make her want more. As she widened the wet opening with her fingers and orally massaged her throbbing clit, her nostrils, filled with the scent of Dana’s soap, now flared with the dizzying aroma of her longing, pulsing in the waves of her flowing liquor. It didn’t take long before Taylor heard the moans coming from above morph into the screams she had prophesied. She licked feverishly until Dana’s body-hard as carved pine in the throes of orgasm-relaxed and then collapsed back onto the bed. She allowed her legs to drape gently across Taylor’s shoulders.

Still dressed for the gym, Taylor untangled herself and stood. Dana, spent to the edge of weeping, rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up.

“You OK?” Taylor asked softly, leaning close.

“I don’t care what Lynette says about her paddle. I’m coming late next week…”

By the time Taylor could pat her warm bottom and kiss her gently on the temple, Dana was asleep.

“However…” Part II

Tidy Whities

From http://www.firmhandspanking.com by way of Tumblr

Continued from “However…” Part I

Mary Elizabeth took a seat in one of the leather chairs in the small seating area around the bar, where Lynette lounged, one elbow on the marble surface like an extra in a western. Dana had to assume that’s where they remained because, to face Taylor where she sat on the couch, she had to turn her back on the ladies.

Dana had not come dressed for a workout. She had thrown on a blue nylon sweat suit on her way out of the house but it was more for lounging. Which is what she was getting set to do, she guessed. Or not. “You have to take those sweats down, dear.”

“Really?” she asked startled.

“Are you going to tell me that after a lifetime in gyms and locker rooms you are going to go shy on us all of a sudden?”

“No, no… I just didn’t know…” Taylor cocked her head to one side as if trying to understand what she was saying. “Nothing…never mind…” Dana untied the drawstring and allowed the loose nylon to slither down her legs feeling the air snake around her. It was now Dana’s turn to open her hands in a “Ta-da!” moment feeling chillingly exposed even in the warm gym. None of the others wore shorts-Lynette came closest with tight Capri’s.

“Very nice”, said Taylor. Figuring she knew the next step, Dana shuffled over to Taylor’s right side and noticed for the first time the rings she was wearing. Oddly, she wondered if she’d feel them. She was about to lower herself across her lap when the woman stopped her.

“Please dear…I do not spank panties. Even ones as cute as those.”

Dana shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. She could feel the eyes behind her that would be looking at more than her back…She looked to Taylor to perhaps plead for some kind of mercy but the woman’s eyes seemed to have none of that in them. But her arched brow and dancing eyes seemed less threatening than…daring. Is that what this was? wondered Dana in the rapid fire synapses flickering through her head. Was this a big game of truth or dare? She was definitely getting a teenage pajama party vibe…maybe an…initiation? Was that it? An initiation into…what?

Dana’s revving brain froze at the sound of Lynette’s voice from behind her. “Her mind does tend to wander, doesn’t it Taylor?”

“Do you want some help with those?” Taylor asked looking up at her.

“No, sorry”, she said for what seemed to be the thousandth time and put her thumbs in the waist band of her panties and rolled them down. They clung to her-and only got as far as the tops of her thighs.

“That’s fine”, said Taylor reaching up for her hand. “Come on now.” Dana lowered herself across the woman’s lap. She wriggled a little to get comfortable-as much as that was possible-and pulled a pillow up under her. She tried not to think of the picture her bottom presented, being her highest point right now. Especially after Taylor pulled her panties further down. “There”, she said-happy with them at mid-thigh.

In truth, the touch of a woman’s hand to her bare bottom was not new to Dana. Not entirely common-and not recent-but not new. That woman’s hand spanking her bottom definitely was, though. She couldn’t remember ever being in this position-maybe as a child, no, definitely as a child, when they lived in that apartment and it was only she and her…”OUCH!” her reverie was interrupted by a sharp smack. Then a second. “OW!”

“Someone has low pain tolerance”, came Mary Elizabeth’s voice.

“Was just surprised…”

“You just surprised her, Taylor. Didn’t really hurt.”

“Oh, is that right?”

The third smack was the hardest and Dana gritted her teeth as the spanks fell, trying not to cry out but allowing gasps and muffled yelps. The stinging pain with each smack was something she expected, even something she deserved. She guessed. In this context. Of being over the woman’s lap and being spanked. She must have deserved it. “OWW!”

But what she didn’t expect was the feeling that was welling between her legs. Whether it was the heat building in her spanked bottom or the vibrations that Taylor’s hand sent south, where Dana had been dry scant minutes before was now beginning to dampen in a way it hadn’t, sadly, for months. She began to wriggle a bit against Taylor’s thigh, not so much to evade the next smack as to rub against something. Suddenly Dana coughed nervously-

“Oh-wait, wait, wait…Taylor.  Wait please…”

“Wait? What? I thought I wasn’t hurting you.”

“No, it’s not…you are…I mean you are…but I’m fine. I mean…I’m…”

Taylor turned her bright eyes back to Lynette and Mary Elizabeth.  The three women in the room who were not face down exchanged knowing glances. Mary Elizabeth blushed, but winked in a vain effort to cover.

Goddam Taylor was right, thought Lynette as she poked Mary Elizabeth in the shoulder. “I think that’s our cue”, she said. Mary Elizabeth rose reluctantly.

Approaching the couch and Dana’s upturned bottom, Lynette poked her firm, pink right cheek with a perfectly manicured finger. Dana jumped at the feeling and registered another tiny zap between her legs. She heard Lynette tell her “You best not be late next week because I’m bringing my own paddle-and you won’t enjoy that half as much as you’re enjoying this.” She smiled then kissed the tip of her index finger and touched it to Taylor’s lips and the two of them took their leave.

Once alone, Taylor said, “I hope you don’t think you’re done” and slapped her with a crisp smack that cupped her cheek and resonated, vibrated, down her leg. Dana, alone with her tormentor, felt free to let her moans more fully form.

“Bring your legs together”, Taylor ordered. When she did the woman let fly with a tattoo of quick spanks to the bottom of the bottom so that the sounds and vibrations echoed down into the chasm between her legs, then deeper, settling into the warm wet folds of her increasingly needy pussy.

“Taylor!” Dana was breathing heavily and undulating over her lap.  “This is amazing…I don’t know…”

“Here let me help you”, said Taylor, herself breathing in tight little gasps. “…lift your legs…” When she did Taylor reached down and pulled first her sweatpants then her bunched white undies off of her feet and tossed them aside.

“Now you can spread your legs a little.”

The next spank was wide handed over her near cheek and Taylor allowed her hand to linger there. Allowed her fingers to slide down between. Allowed herself to feel the heat emanating from Dana’s pink bottom. Suddenly Taylor wasn’t interested anymore in punishing her charge but rather in something that was entirely different. And something that could have been her plan all along.

To be continued…