This week's Fetish Friday at Alison Tyler's blog features all things spanking. And how can you not like that? Check out stop number one on the unofficial 2009 Spanking Tour, courtesy of Elise, and Heidi Champa offers a kinky tidbit at stop number two.
And to add to the fun, here's a racy little story to spice up your day!
My Bad Boy
It was the look in Mac's eyes that got to me: the bright spark of fear and a shimmering lust. He knew as well as I did where this was all going.
“You've been a very bad boy,” I whispered, holding his chin in my hand so he couldn't turn away from my unyielding gaze. I traced my thumb across his jawline, teasing the scruffy stubble that had sprung up since I'd seen him last.
Mac didn't answer me because we both already knew that what I said was true. Well, not seriously. He's not a bad person, but I wanted to use his inappropriate behavior to have a little fun.
He and I were close friends and occasional lovers—and when the mood struck, our liaisons took on a seriously kinky bent. Mac'd had a hell of a week, having both of his girlfriends realize that she wasn't the only lady in his life. They'd both dumped him immediately, which now meant that his ass was mine—literally. He wound up on my doorstep wanting to complain about his misfortune, but he ultimately agreed that it was all his fault.
“Someone needs to teach you a lesson,” I'd said, during lull in his whining. At first, he'd sat up with an indignant jerk, ready to argue with me. But when he saw the smile playing at my lips, he understood.
“So, Josie, what is it that happens to bad boys?” he asked, a little breathlessly, his voice slipping into growled whisper.
“They get spanked, of course,” was my immediate reply.
Mac's breath caught in his throat. He'd never been on the receiving end; this was all very new. But I could tell from his flushed cheeks and that smoldering look in his eyes that he found the idea as arousing as I did.
I motioned for him to stand, and then I set to work on his pants, unbuckling his belt and eventually yanking down his button-fly jeans. His erect cock eagerly sprang upward, and I had to swallow a laugh.
“Going commando, I see. It's almost as if you were anticipating this.” I swatted his bare ass on the last word for emphasis. He jumped more in surprise than anything else; it wasn't much of a smack.
“Uh, no. Not anticipating this.” His cheeks blushed red; I couldn't wait to make his lower ones match.
His jeans were bunched around his ankles. With a firm push on his back, I urged him to kneel on the couch cushions. He stumbled but managed obey my demand. He looked so sweet and docile, this big hunk of man, as he waited for me to “punish” him. The sight of him being so compliant made my cunt ache.
I trailed my fingernails down his back, scratching his flesh teasingly and making him arch his body. It was nearly as if he was raising his ass in invitation. And how could I deny him?
I brought my arm back and landed a solid smack on his right cheek. He immediately groaned, so I repeated the action—only this time I swatted the left, making sure to cup my hand to make the most noise possible. I knew it would add to his thrill. What surprised me more than anything was how powerful the simple act of spanking him made me feel—and how turned on I was becoming. Each slap to his bare bottom was as good as flicking my clit or teasing my nipple. Each moan that escaped his parted lips was like a whispered sweet nothing, stoking my ardor.
I lost count of how many slaps had landed, but I admired the pink splotches that were beginning to blossom on his pale bottom. I increased the tempo and strength of my spanking as he grew more accustomed to sensations. He bent forward slightly and gripped the back of the couch for support. I reached beneath him, never letting up on his cute lower cheeks and using my free hand to tweak his nipples before I wrapped my fingers around his cock. As I continued to swat his ass, he began to fuck my fist, pumping his dick furiously as he sought release. Right when he was on the verge of exploding, I stopped. I stopped spanking. I stopped stroking. And Mac actually whimpered. It was a sound of absolute abandon that gave me such indecent satisfaction.
I pulled him up by the scruff of his neck and pushed down to his knees. I hiked up my dress and pulled his head between my thighs. I didn't need to speak. He knew what to do, but I kept my fingers tangled in his hair to keep him right where I wanted him.
Mac mouthed my cunt through my silky panties, and I ground my face down against him. When my bucking grew too intense, he pulled my undies to the side and dove in, furiously lapping at my clit. The stubble on his chin felt divine and I pumped my hips frantically to increase the friction. My orgasm hit my fast and hard, but I didn't release my grip until I had caught my breath again.
I moved away, and he looked up at me with pleading eyes and glossy lips. I helped him get up and sat him down on the couch, feeling pleased by the look on his face when his well-spanked ass hit the cushions. I straddled his hips and slowly enveloped his cock with my cunt, rocking and riding him, bucking and moaning, until his cries join my own and we stilled.
I know Mac—he'll never change his ways. But he's my bad boy, and I love him for it.