The Red Ass Society

101

Piper left the jeep at the end of the road and picked her way along the rocky shoreline between the mirror-flat lake on the left and the sheer cliff on the right. It wasn’t far along before the cliff fell back into more of a hill and she veered onto the cliff trail, they called it, up toward Miriam’s. It was less than a five-minute walk until she emerged from the maple thicket into Miriam Webb’s back yard-or front yard. They were all terribly inconsistent on whether lakeside was back or front.

Whichever yard she was in, there was no sign of her friend though both her cars and Geoff’s truck were there. The dock was deserted and there was no one on the deck. Piper cupped her hands to the glass and peeked in the windows. Nothing. She had walked in on Miriam and Geoff often enough in the throes of some passionate coupling to avoid just slipping in the never-locked door. Stumped, she resorted to the lakeside paging system and turned her head skyward.

“Miriam…” she called sing-songing the name. “Oh Miriam…!”

“Out here,” came the muffled reply. “In the workshop…”

Piper fairly skipped across the yard and the gravel road toward the shop. She was having a good day and the evening promised more of the same. Nothing like new people-not that there was anything wrong with the old, far from it. But new folks always brought an energy to the party.

“Hey! I…” she was stunned silent stepping through the door.

Miriam was a tall woman by any measure, and strongly built; in a country-farm way not so much in a gym-toned way as so many were today. As Piper was as a matter of fact. Her height was not in evidence however, bent in half as she was, backside facing the door.

Piper knew well the symbiology of the romantic heart; its rounded double top blooming lustfully on both sides of the deep cleft being nothing more than the inverted image of a woman’s bottom. She was seldom treated to the image given such perfect life. In the dim light her formidable bottom was not the color of billowing clouds or cotton. That would be a snowman’s bottom. Rather it was rich and golden, the color of a new peach dusted with a very agreeable-and soon to be augmented-pink hue.

Her husband was standing beside her his hand full of, not really a paddle (wink-wink), but a serving tray from the new craft brewery “Happy & Hoppy” that had opened across the lake. It was the right shape and size with six little dimples in the top that the waitresses could slip small taster glasses into.

Miriam had walked off with this one after closing time one night in the tipsy hope that it might earn her a paddling from the night manager-a stocky redhead who she rather fancied. No such luck though. In fact, so many people wandered off with the trays for whatever reason (wink-wink) that nobody said a word; just added twelve bucks to your bill and let you go unmolested on your way. Quite reasonable when you compare with similar pieces on Etsy or the leather workers down lake.

Miriam looked back at her husband. “Geoff, give us a minute, would you?”

He headed for the door raising the paddle on his way. “Play your cards wrong”, he told Piper with a leer, “You could be next.” She instinctively turned her bottom away from him as he passed.

Miriam didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get up nor did she reach for the shorts puddled at her feet. Instead she stretched languorously like a cat in morning sun. Not wanting to speak directly to her bottom (though in truth something along those lines would be directly up Piper’s alley, so to speak) she hopped up onto the workbench beside her friend.

“So, finally got to him, eh?”

“Jesus!” she answered exasperated. “It wasn’t easy.” She looked at the space on the workbench between her hands. “First, I let the milk go bad. Dint faze him. Ate sour milk with his oats. Then I put flower in the sugar bowl so his coffee went all red and clumpy.”

“That’s nasty.”

“Right?” Miriam looked over at her. “Nothin’! He thought he’d confused it himself and tossed it down the sink.”

“You know”, Piper offered, “Most women would be pleased to have such a forgivin’ partner.”

“Bullocks! Then I run us out a’ eggs. Put grasshoppers in the salad…I began to think what’s a girl gotta do to get her arse beat around here?” Not being able to shrug properly bent over as she was, she flopped her hands on the workbench.

“What finally got to him?”

“Worms.”

“Worms?”

“Worms in the muffin tin.”

“Like fishin’ worms?”

“Zactly. I watched him take the top off the tin, reach in whilst readin’ the paper, felt a worm on top of a biscuit.”

“What kind?”

“Cheese.”

“Love ‘em!”

“I kept a few aside for you. Unwormed.”

“What then?”

“He stopped, looked in the tin, closed the top and folded his paper. Real dramatic-like. Takes off his readers and clears his throat…”

“I can just hear him…”

“He announces, ’This house has gone a bit slipshod. Methinks we need a trip to the workshop.’”

“YES! I thinks, but don’t say it. And here we are.”

“I’m happy for you love, but you know you needn’t go through all that. When you are in a drought, I’d be happy to…”

“I know, I know. I did think of you…but Geoff is…”

“Deaf as a post.”

“True.”

“Thicker than Gram’s cream.”

“Yes.”

“Awkward in particular social settings.”

“Don’t you mean peculiar social settings?”

They giggled like school girls. Piper hopped off the bench. “I’ll let you have at it girl.” Then, maybe against her better judgement (which she rarely if ever followed) she patted Miriam’s bottom-far out on the cheek-away from the good parts. “Have a good time”, she said.

“I will, thanks.” Then, looking back over her shoulder. “Oh, was there something you wanted?”

“Oh, yes. I’m having two new couples over tonight. They might end up being clients, don’t know. But we’ll be out on the lake and thought we’d stop by the dock-you feel like grilling something? Or we can just sit around and have wine.”

“That will be fine-excellent. Text me the time later. Hopefully I won’t be sittin’ too easily…but…”

“I’ll have cushions.” Piper called on her way out the shop door.

Geoff was waiting patiently, sitting one leg crossed at the knee, bouncing the paddle off the toe of his sneaker.

“All yours”, she said bowing and motioning toward the open door and what waited for him within.

“How’s about we give you a little taste,” Geoff said standing and moving toward her brandishing the wooden board as a sword. “It’ll help me stroke.”

“Oh no, you don’t!” Piper, smiling, dropped into a crouch, pushing her backside out and away. For good measure, she stretched her arms out to her sides to keep him from slipping behind, though Geoff wasn’t the slipping kind. “Get away from me you old reprobate. You’ll wear my skinny ass out with that.” (For the record, Piper’s ass was not skinny but, as size goes, was an aisle or two over from Miriam’s.) Never one to pursue, Geoff raised the paddle to his forehead in salute and, with a wink, disappeared through the door into the dimly lit workshop.

Piper cut across the yard then paused before disappearing herself into the copse of trees onto the trail. Cocking her head like a jay on a wire she listened until the crackling report of hard wood on soft skin rang out across the yard. There was a sharp answering yelp that devolved directly into throaty laughter then a light hum. Piper, feeling a little buzzy down under, slipped quietly and smiling down the path.

 

 

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No Redemption Without Damnation

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(Continued from The Colonel Comes Home – Memories)

“You’re Sylvia Palacios?” he growled in a guttural lowland accent.

“Yes Captain”.

Garcia squinted. “You know me?”

“No sir. Your braid is the mark of a Captain. My husband was a soldier, sir.”

“We know. At this moment, that’s the only thing saving your life.”

Garcia flipped his good leg over and hopped to the ground. He loosened the ax from its’ bindings. With a few barked orders the soldiers dismounted and spread through the property and into the house.  She didn’t move as he strode by her, as if immobility made her invisible. “Did you know my Antonio?”

“No. The Colonel suddenly has a soft spot for widows of those who died under his command.”

She jumped but didn’t turn at the crash of the first ax blow. Then the second-she knew what he was doing. A few more then the door, in shards, was tossed aside. A window shattered as a chair flew through it. She directed the men with what sounded like grunts and coughs. The dialect was strange to her, but she thought she heard the word “treasure.”

“Where is the gold?” he asked, suddenly back at her shoulder.

“What gold Captain?”

He leaned and rumbled into her ear. “Remember I said your life has been saved for the moment. It’s a gift that can be withdrawn any time.”

She turned and met his eyes but for a moment. “Bedroom closet. Under the floorboards.”

He turned his head and barked. She heard the rumble of men rushing through her house then the crashing of axes.

“What’s to become of me?” she asked having turned away again.

“If you live, it’s shit-town for you”, he said distracted, paying attention to the two bags that his men were bringing out of the house. The little she knew of shit-town was it was the bottom of the bottom caste. Natives living naked in the jungle occupied a higher rung on their society’s ladder. At least the band of outcasts and ne’er do wells that lived along a downstream slough of the river had a function. They managed the rudimentary sewage runnels that the viceroy had invented years before to relieve the highlands of any town’s most vexing and continuous need. And they washed soldier’s uniforms and the army’s bandages in large boiling pots well upstream from the shit pipes. The other lore she ignored for the time being. She would know soon enough.

He brought the bags to the table beside her and emptied the smaller one. “Not as much here as I thought there would be.”

“I’ve been living off it, since Antonio died.”

“There’s more?”

“There was. That’s all that’s left. I swear.”

They were old coins imprinted with the name of a Spanish king who had rotted away decades ago. Impossible to know when, or where, Antonio Palacios had made them his own. But it didn’t matter, they belonged to the Colonel now he thought, as he put them back into the sack. Most of them anyway. He left enough on the table for his men to pick up. They would notice there were exactly three per man and would take their share. Everyone had ways to ensure a soldier’s loyalty.

“You gather everything you can carry in a pillowcase”, he told her. As she entered the house, the soldiers walked out carrying Laurencia’s clothes. Deadened to what she might see, she didn’t even gasp at the ruin around her. Tables, chairs, dressers, all smashed and scattered. She found another dress, like the one she wore, in a pile. Also trousers. Sandals, underclothing, boots…all jammed into a sack. Turning from the shattered room she saw the captain-silhouetted in the sunshine from outside- standing between her and the door. He was unfastening his belt. “Oh”, was all she said.

“Remove your dress and lay over the bed”, he said simply. That’s when it registered to her that the bed was the only piece of furniture in the house left undisturbed. She turned her back to him and pulled the rough cloth over her head, letting it fall to the floor. “Your rump has all the colors of the sunset, Senora.” She knew as she lowered herself that the bruises were fading but still very much in evidence.

“The Colonel was very thorough”, she said situating herself over the foot of the bed, feet on the floor. “I deserved it”, she repeated her mantra.

“Well, there will be no whipping today”, he said.

She turned her head to look back over her shoulder. His dark cock, long, and slender, pointed to her bottom like a compass needle finding true north. Again, even in her shame, she felt a flutter in her breast. She had nothing not grown in the garden between her legs for years. Her rounded backside was large and heavy enough to well cover her treasures. “Spread these”, he said stepping between her legs. She wriggled to comply and felt his surprisingly gentle finger over her dry slit. She pushed backward trying to open as he wriggled against the opening that seemed impossibly narrow.

“There is lotion”, she said quickly. “If you can find it. It was in a jar on the dresser.”

“You would like that”, he said rubbing back and forth. “It would be easier for you.”

“And for you”, she said. “Would you rather slip through butter or grind through sand?”

She felt his hand on her bottom cheek as he pushed away and shuffled to where the dresser lay, its drawers having vomited their contents in a swath across the floor. She rolled onto her side and pointed to a spot near the wall. “There”, she said. “The green jar.” He picked it up and she settled back onto her stomach.

“And it’s not broken”, he said chuckling. “I’ll have to speak to my men.”

The joke did not register as she pulled a pillow to her face and opened her legs. She gasped as first one, then two fingers, worked their way up and down then, well-greased, entered her. She lifted onto her toes to better accommodate him as he oiled and stretched her with a few minutes of thorough fingering. She felt him move closer against her before he withdrew his hand and roughly grasped her hips. Pulling as he pushed forward, he sheathed himself-in a single slow thrust-as completely as possible into her secreted vagina. He pushed harder trying to get all the way in but her bottom-as pleasant as he found it to rub against-was an impediment to complete penetration.

“Your ass, senora…It is in the way…” he caught his breath and bit his tongue.  Though an older man, he spent little time with women these days and concentrated, concerned that he might come too quickly.

“I could lay on my back”, she offered.

“No”, he said pulling out. “I like it back here. But I think I’ll switch holes.”

Before she could panic at the prospect of being violated in a way she hadn’t for years, the head of his cock was pushing at her tiny brown button. As a child she was told if she opened her mouth wide, it would open her back there. So, feeling the searing burn as the Captain stretched his way into her top hole, she opened her mouth wide and said nothing as he filled her completely with his length and breadth.

“Better…” he grunted pushing deeply. He saw the woman’s hands shaking as she clenched the bedclothes and knew her mouth was full of pillow. His strokes, for the most part, were shallow and quick. Not until he felt himself gathering at the gate did he drive deeply, grinding into Sylvia Palacios’ ass. He didn’t care any longer about coming; would prefer to get it over with. His job here was complete-he could report her well used.

Backside aflame, her ears rang with the slapping sound of skin on skin as he bounced off her bottom. Hurry damn you! she thought holding her breath as he quickened pace for a moment then stiffened with a grunt and shudder. He collapsed atop her as his throbbing cock painted her insides with ill sown seed. He lay still until his breathing recovered then pushed himself off her to stand.

“Come on”, he said after wiping himself with the end of the sheet. “We have to be off.” He picked up the dress and her sack and strode out the door. She knew he meant for her to follow him naked into the yard but she refused, finding a limit to her appetite for punishment. Moving stiffly, she wrapped the soiled sheet around her and shuffled through the door.

When he saw her, he barked a quick order and the soldier nearest her ripped the sheet from her with such force she almost tumbled. “I can’t ride like this!” she cried, her alabaster body gleaming in the sunlight.

He gave another quick order and two soldiers took her roughly and tied her feet and hands with coarse rope that had been thrown over their saddles. She didn’t resist knowing struggle was fruitless and allowed herself to be lifted and thrown bottom up over the saddle like a bag of corn. She watched the ground mutely as they tied her hands to her ankles and with another rope, fastened her to the saddle.

“There”, he said standing beside the burro and patting her upturned bottom strongly. “You think you can ride like this?” She said something he didn’t hear. “What?”, he asked.

“I’m leaking you bastard!”, she whispered raggedly. Knowing what she meant he tore a slice from the sheet and shoved it roughly between the cheeks of her ass. “There”, he said patting her again. “That should save the saddle.” Then, struck by an idea, he stepped to the fire pit and took a piece of charcoal. He brushed her bottom as one might a table to clear crumbs and with the charcoal wrote in fine script, “Sylvia Palacios” and below that “Madre Horrible”. He stood back admiring his handiwork before mounting and tying Sylvia’s burro to his saddle horn. “Now let’s ride.”

The soldier in the lead headed off on a neglected trail that led directly to the river. “Not that way”, the captain said turning his horse to the well-worn path. “Let’s go down through town.”

Her humiliation complete, Sylvia Palacios wept. The Captain leaned over and spoke softly to the back of her downcast head. “There can be no redemption without damnation, Senora.”

(Thus ends Chapter One of ‘The Colonel Comes Home’)

Breaking the old Ennui – 2

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(Continued from Breaking the Old Ennui…)

They moved as in a dream-flowing, not walking-Karen with her hand on the center of Theresa’s back. A bedside lamp, left on earlier, blanketed the room in a soft golden glow that welcomed them inside.  Karen slowly sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Theresa in front of her. She was moving precisely but languidly knowing that each action, once over, could never happen again. It might be repeated-but never relived as it happened the first time. And she wanted everything to last.

Shaking only slightly, she opened Theresa’s belt then unsnapped her jeans. Exaggerating her movements as if playing to the back row, she grasped the sharp, metal tab and, before sliding it down, looked up. Her friend, not trusting words for the moment, simply lay her hand on her shoulder. The zipper came down and the jeans pulled open. Now Theresa leaned for balance as Karen worked the jeans over her hips then down her legs, leaning so that her breath tickled at Theresa’s thighs.

“Wow”, Theresa said deep in her throat. “I thought you’d just like take them down. Not off.”

“Naw, that’s miserable. They’d be all bunched around your legs. Here. Lift”, she said bending forward and taking the jeans off one leg then the other. Her hangs lingered on her calves then up to her knees as she straightened.  “Pretty panties”, said Karen rubbing her hands up the outside of her thighs and across the purple silk covering her hips. Theresa’s hand crawled from Karen’s shoulder to the side of her neck and squeezed lightly.

“Who’s going to do it?” Theresa asked.

“Oh IT. Timmy’s the doctor, right Tim?”

“At your service”, he said from behind her. She had been so preoccupied with Karen she had almost forgotten about Tim.

Theresa gave a little wince that morphed easily into an embarrassed smile. “I thought you might do it.”

“I’ll be right here honey. Come on now”, she said getting up. “Onto the bed with you.”

Theresa helped herself onto the bed with both knees and an arm. She let herself down easily on her right side. Karen pulled a pillow down under her head.

“Comfy, hon?” she asked sliding her hand along the contour of her hip then across the tightly stretched panties encasing her bottom. She had meant to pat her once then back off but didn’t. She carefully kept her wandering hand on the panties though, as if the thin film of silk offered some measure of propriety to an affair that was feeling less proper as it felt more right.

To answer the question, Theresa was more than comfy. She didn’t know what she had in mind exactly when she stopped by this evening. She didn’t know what-if anything-would happen and she couldn’t swear she wanted ANYTHING to happen. All she knew was she couldn’t bear one more night alone in her bed with her vibrator. Lil Buzzy was a wonderful distraction and necessary release but not meant to be a steady diet.

So, no, Theresa didn’t know what she specifically had in mind as she circled the block for an hour before texting Karen. She didn’t even know what she wanted, let alone what she needed, and wouldn’t have known what to ask for if a question came up. But that was then. Right now she wished that Karen’s hands would slide down the backs of her legs, would cup her bottom, would knead the soft…

Her reverie was interrupted by Tim sliding open the drawer in the nightstand. She watched dreamily as he picked out the thermometer and a tube of lube.

“I thought it would be bigger” she joked, her voice cracking just a bit. Damn! What was with her voice?

“This little thing?” Tim held it between his fingers. “You won’t even feel it.” Then he disappeared around the bed and out of sight. She settled her head on the pillow end let her eyes glaze; a flutter in her chest. She didn’t want to crane her head to see what they were doing but Karen’s hand was still on her hip and she could feel, more than hear, a kiss pass between them. Then the bed moved and the hand disappeared. Karen came around the front with a small smile and sat on the bed beside her.

“I have to get these out of the way”, Tim said his thumbs in the waistband of her panties. They were tighter than she wanted them to be-it was her last line of defense in the battle with her weight. She would not buy larger panties, determined to fit the ones she had. Some were more of a struggle than others. She lifted slightly and he pulled them down off her hip, then down her bottom reveling her deep crease and firm, billowing cheeks. She expected him to stop right below her butt, but he rolled them all the way down her legs.

“Hey”, she said looking up at Karen. “That thermometer isn’t that big…”

“Your panties are too tight”, Tim said rubbing a thumb along a crease on her bottom. They’re cutting off your circulation.”

“That’s fine” she said stretching a little into her new-found freedom. “I’m just feeling a little exposed is all…”

Karen, without a thought, crossed her arms and grabbed the hem of her sweat shirt. As quick as a shrug it was off and tossed to the floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra.

“There now. Feel better?”

She’d seen her naked before, usually quickly in a cabana while changing for the pool or in a locker room. Here, seeing the flow of her hips rising out of her loose-fitting jeans, the goose-fleshed bumps of her ribs and swollen nipples…it felt different. Very different. Her eyes had settled on Karen’s flat belly when her attention was drawn behind her. Tim was rubbing her panty lines then her cheeks.

“It’s ridiculous that nobody’s had their hands on this ass for how long?” he asked softly.

“Long time” she sighed, her eyes sagging closed. Karen watched a small smile play across her friend’s lips as Tim rubbed and kneaded her ample backside. He glanced up from his ministrations to get an affirming smile from his wife. Then, with a practiced assurance, popped the lid from the lube with one hand and opened Theresa cheeks with the other. Her lips parted with a tiny sigh as the small, cool tube entered her behind.

“See?” said Karen close to her face. “Can’t even feel it.”

“Oh, I feel it”, Theresa said smiling. “I feel it fine.” Karen leaned closer until Theresa opened her mouth slightly to accept a soft kiss. Karen’s mouth closed over hers and her tongue circled the inside of her lips finally nibbling the top one.

“What was that?” Theresa asked quietly when they uncoupled.

“Did you like it?”

“I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

“We’ll take care of you baby…”

Continuing…

Doc Savage

Doc Savage Cover

The sun was barely up and already muggy; more August than October. That’s why I hadn’t gone out that morning-had humped and sweated two thick, buggy ridges the day before and felt wrung out. Didn’t feel like archery season. I liked the woods in the fall; not the summer, so I let them go without me-I’d hunt the evening; spend the day reading and chilling. That’s what I was doing when Jerry’s girlfriend Lynn padded softly into the kitchen. We were all staying in her grandparent’s decrepit farmhouse in the foothills of the Adirondacks.

I wished I could say I was reading Kerouac, Gary Snyder, even Hemingway but actually it was one of the Doc Savage series; don’t remember which-there were a ton of them and I’d had most as a kid. Brought them hunting with me because they were small enough to pack and there was something reassuring about them. Having read and re-read them for years, they calmed me and brought me back to earth when I got too high. Which was hard to avoid when hunting with Jerry and the boys.

Lynn said “Mornin”, soft and sleepy and I looked up with a ready smile to find her completely and totally naked, a wrinkle from the bed clothes traced along her hip. Not a thread, not an earring, nothing. “I can’t sleep in anything in this weather”, she said. “I hope you don’t mind.” No, I told her, I’m fine. I put my head down to read again but that didn’t feel right. If she came down dressed I wouldn’t read and ignore her.

The smells of sleep swaddled her-all like baby milk, vanilla and dried sweat. She picked a cup from the sideboard and poured, her back to me, skin shining in the morning dim of the old house. Sugar was there and the cup tink-tink-tink-tinked as she stirred. She had a great ass-that I knew from the jeans she wore. Her butt was like Marcia’s a little smaller, maybe firmer. No, couldn’t have been. Marcia’s butt was bounce a quarter off it firm. Marcia-Jesus. Hadn’t thought of her in months. She liked me to spank her-the first girl who ever asked for it. I didn’t get it at first, but I’m a quick study.

She laughed like I was tickling her; and she’d fake these little ‘ooohs’, and ‘ouches’ like I was hurting her. As if ever that could have happened. She broke up with me when she went off to college. Didn’t want any encumbrances she said. That was her word. I thought I was going to be her husband, but suddenly I was an encumbrance. Christ.

“I’m going back upstairs”, Lynn said turning a little my way so I could see her tits. She liked them and should have, but her eyes, looking sideways, betrayed nothing. She was giving a show but couldn’t tell if it was for my benefit or hers. “There’s a cross breeze up there-feels sweet and you can still taste the last bit of evening.”  I thought to say ‘Yeah’, but some kind of weird, strangled sound came out, so I kept my mouth shut as her bottom disappeared into the shadows and creaking, back up the stairs.

I had never been so hard in my freaking life. It was like all my morning-wood ever rolled together but I didn’t know if it was Marcia’s memory or Lynn’s reality that lit the fuse. I read a paragraph, Doc was in trouble, but remembered nothing. Read it again-then a page, then the same page again. I tried reading aloud in a whispered mantra to bank the fire but it wasn’t working.

Then I heard the creak again-on the stairs. I knew, and started reading harder, silently but unable to drown the sound of her bare feet scuffing across the old hardwood.

“I thought you would follow me.”

She was still naked, her body-facing me now-luminous in the knife edge of sunlight that was peeking through the kitchen window. Golden dust motes twinkled, a cape swirling in the air above her.

“I could.” I kept my eyes on hers as she waited to hear more. “Can I spank you?”

The corner of her mouth lifted; her eye caught the sun. She turned slowly, languidly, a weekend swimmer taking a turn in a pool. “Sure”, she said over her shoulder as her butt walked off again into the shadows.  “Just not too hard.”

For a second, I thought of Jerry. No, less than a second. I’d known him since first grade but it wasn’t like we were brothers or anything. I cringed at the squeaking sound the chair made pushing away from the table.

The Visit – 5

“Brat…” she whispered with a rueful smile.

(Continued from The Visit – 4)

She pulled her T-Shirt over her head and shook out her bowl cut as if it was actually mussed. Hurrying, afraid if she hesitated she wouldn’t, she unsnapped her bra and shook it down her arms. Feeling too exposed standing there, she sat on the bed avoiding his eyes. She appeared slight-not small but slender in a way that she never appeared clothed; more a girl rife with ridges and edges than a fully rounded woman. He recognized the tomboy that had taught him to ride a bike a few years before and he remembered suddenly the pulling feeling he got back then that he didn’t understand.

He bumped his thumb along her ribs and she snorted quickly and blocked him with her elbow.

“Tickles.”

Protecting her ribs opened her breasts to him. They were no more than thickened medallions on her chest. He rose to the closest one and gently kissed it-once below the nipple then slipped his mouth over it feeling it harden. She arched her back slightly pushing toward his mouth and ran her hand through his thick hair.

“Ohhhh man…” she sighed. “This is so bad…”

He pulled his mouth away from her snapping a thin tendril of saliva. “You say that once more, you’ll be the one getting a spanking”, he said then kissed her hard breastbone before licking the other.

“I deserve it”, she whispered then pulled back as he tried to kiss her.

“No kisses, please…Save them for your girlfriend.” He held his mouth in place-suspended in front of hers. “Please…” He redirected his lips and gave her a kiss on the cheek while cupping the back of her head.

“You’re goofy”, he said breaking and laying back.

(Continuing…)

The Visit – 4

Her legs were now pressing against the bed and he was looking straight up at her. “I’m afraid something’s going to happen. And I don’t want it to.”

(Continued from The Visit – 3)

“If you don’t want it to, it won’t”, he said.

“It’s not that easy.”

A tear glistened in the gray light coming through the window.

“I can’t help myself. I’m sorry. This is so bad.”

“I’m glad you’re here.” He reached up and brushed the tear from her face before awkwardly squeezing then patting her shoulder. “Do you want to spank me again?” There was no answer. “It’s OK if you want to…”

“No” she whispered allowing her hand to slither under the bedclothes and hover, barely touching his cock, rising like a cobra to the flute. “I don’t want to spank you again.” She pressed her palm lightly onto the hardening bulb blooming through the fly in his boxers. “This is so bad”, she said keeping her hand where it was. “This is so bad”, became her litany, repeated over and over in hopes the droning lamentation might mitigate any repercussions of what was to come.

She unsnapped her jeans and slid them easily over her hips to the floor. Her eyes, adjusted to the light in the room, looked for a reaction. He was up on an elbow watching, desperately wanting to turn on the lamp but fearing light would somehow break a spell and everything would disappear in a puff. Afraid of words, she hooked her thumbs in the elastic of her panties and rolled them down and off. His eyes settled on the dark patch below her belly. Having glanced it before in no way diminished the wonder of beholding it presented to him at eye level.

He reached out then and put his hand on her bare hip registering that this was the first such touch he’d ever had. Her skin was warm and tight across the bone.

“Your shirt too”, he said rubbing the side of her thigh in a way he thought was tender.

“Naw, come on. I have tiny boobs”.

“They’re fine for me. Come on…”

“Brat…” she whispered with a rueful smile.

(Continuing…)

The Visit – 3

Perchenonso

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(We’re dropping into the middle here…)

He heard a light scratching at the door before it clicked open slowly, spilling a thin wedge of dim hall light into the room. Her head was a backlit silhouette. He was half expecting her, having heard the phone.

“You awake?” she whispered.

“Yeah, come in…” She seemed to hesitate before sliding sideways inside. He stayed on his back but pushed up onto his pillows. The sheet, twisted up in the chenille spread, covered him from the waist down.

“Don’t you wear anything to bed you brat?” She barked a husky laugh but didn’t look away from his chest and shoulders. The smell of Christmas followed her-he knew she had been into Mom’s gin.

“I’m wearing shorts”, he said.

She hovered over the bed as if stumped about why she was there. She opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, satisfied to breathe a moment. Was it stuffy in the room? There was a window to her left that looked out over the side yard. She probably should open it. But instead of moving, gulped another breath trying to settle the flapping in her chest. She slid closer to the bed.

She would be fine, went the thought, if she just touched him once. Just reach out and touch his shoulder, rub her hand over his thick, hairless chest, but she didn’t. For a moment she didn’t and almost convinced herself that she wouldn’t. But the moment dragged too long until her hand levitated forward of its own accord and feathered her fingers over his shoulder then across his chest just as she’d imagined, then withdrew. “I…I’m sorry. You’re…I’m sorry.”

“What’s up?” He asked rubbing his eyes but not really sleepy.

“That was your Mom on the phone. She said…she said the car’s broke down, but I think she’s loaded. And if she is your Dad is. So they won’t be coming home tonight.”

“Oh”, he said awakening to the heavy silence muffling him. “I’m fine…. If you want to leave I mean.”

“Uh…I’ve been into your Mom’s liquor. I probably shouldn’t drive….”

“Oh. OK.”

“But I should leave.”

They were speaking slowly-deliberately-as if translating their words from a different language.

“Why?”

Her legs were now pressing against the bed and he was looking straight up at her. “I’m afraid something’s going to happen. And I don’t want it to.”

 

(Continuing…)