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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.

Pretty in Pink

The music was loud, its beat relentless, and I rocked my body to the fierce tempo as slashes of color from the club's flashing lights striped my figure. I knew he was watching. I saw him admiring me with a lustful stare that emboldened me. I let the music carry me toward him, toward the inevitable.

We didn't exchanged names, only smiles, as I wrapped my arms around his neck and we began to sway in time to the thumping rhythm. The friction of our dance teased my nipples into sensitive little points that craved even more contact. I ground my hips against his, feeling the firmness of his swollen cock—the promise of so much pleasure. I pressed my lips to his and moaned when he teased the tip of my tongue with his own. His hands roamed over my back, stroking my exposed flesh as his fingers wandered into the slit in the back of my silky fuchsia blouse.

I spotted the entrance to the ladies' room and urged him back toward it. We slipped inside and headed to the last stall. I pushed him up against the tiled wall and reached for his jeans. I gazed into his chocolate-brown eyes as I unzipped his pants, feeling my mouth water in anticipation. I peeled back the denim and gasped when I saw the cotton-candy pink lace panties stretched tight over his cock. It was so perfect and pretty, and all for me.

Rise and Shine

All night long I heard the sounds of the neighbors: squeaking bedsprings, a slamming headboard, flesh slapping against flesh, and then their blissful moans as they crested together.

As dawn broke, I counted the seconds until my man came in from working the night shift. I wanted what they'd had, and I pounced on him as soon as he entered the room.

Everything was at the ready, and he gladly gave in to my whims. I took strips of fabric that hadn't yet been woven into the unfinished rug and wrapped them around his wrists and ankles, binding him tight to the bedposts. I stroked his cock teasingly, and he raised his hips upward as he searched for more. I wanted to make it last, though—and I wanted an even sweeter treat. I picked up a bottle of chocolate syrup and drizzled the sticky liquid along his shaft. His laugh turned into a groan as I licked up the trail, dragging my tongue up and down his cock.

Before long, I was the one who couldn't wait. I swooped down, taking him all the way down my throat, my lips sticky and sweet. I lapped and sucked until I felt his shaft pulse against my tongue. He came with a groan, but that wasn't the end. The day had just begun.


I stood in the corner of the club, hidden by smoky shadows and watching Jake as he prowled around the stage. For those few hours, he belonged to the crowd, but after the show—he was mine. That knowledge made it easier to absorb the sight of him singing to and flirting with big-breasted blondes. Those girls thought they had what he wanted, but they couldn’t be more wrong.

Jake wasn’t one for the quick backstage blowjob. The other guys in the band, however, were only too happy to accept these tokens of admiration. And I can hardly blame them. I wouldn’t have turned them down either. No, what my Jake wanted was entirely different.

After the final encore and the bartender’s shout of last call, I took Jake by the hand, leaving his smirking bandmates in our wake. By then they knew the score. They knew what I wanted—and what he needed.

We weaved our way through the crowd and headed out the back door to the club, where we stood in a trash-filled alley which was half-illuminated by moonlight. I shoved Jake up against the brick wall, and he gasped as I tore open his leather pants to reveal the black satin panties that he always wore during his gigs.

I dropped to my knees, mouthing his hard cock through the satin and inhaling the earthy scent of leather and sweat. Jake looked down at me, his wide brown eyes seeming even more pronounced from the eyeliner and mascara that he’d donned for his show. His breath came in irregular gasps as I teased his dick through that slick barrier, not really offering him any relief, but simply making his cock swell and his hunger grow.

I stood and looked him in the eyes—thanks to my four-inch heels we were nearly the same height. I pushed down on his shoulders, and he immediately dropped to his knees. “You know what to do,” I told him, and he wordlessly unzipped my pants. With shaking hands, he parted the denim and pulled out what he’d been waiting for all night: the purple dildo that I’d strapped on before I dressed for the night.

I placed my hands on his faux-hawk, tugging his gel-stiffened hair to bring his face closer to my dick. He eagerly opened his lips and slowly took me in. I rocked my hips back and forth, slowly feeding him more with each thrust and enjoying the sensation of the toy’s base hitting my swollen clit. I was tempted to let him take me all the way as he knelt in the dirt amid the cigarette butts and crushed beer cans, but I had a better plan.

When Jake had gotten the toy slick enough with his own saliva, I pulled him up and made him face the wall, so I could pull his leather pants and satin panties down to his knees. I spit onto my fingers and brought them between his cheeks, teasing his rear hole and making him groan as I stretched him out. When he seemed ready, I slipped the toy between his cheeks and eased it inside his back hole. Jake let out a slow, wordless moan as I penetrated him. As soon as he was used to the sensation, I started fucking him fast and hard. I’d already arranged for the bouncer to ensure that we had total privacy, but Jake didn’t know that. I knew in the back of his head, he was worried one of his groupies might sneak out back for a smoke and see me drilling him from behind. And I knew that fear was turning him on.

The toy was pushing deliciously up against my clit with each inward thrust. I wanted Jake to come as hard as I was going to, so I reached around and started stroking him in time with my bucking hips. I won the race, coming first with a shout, and he soon followed me, decorating the trash at his feet with his release.

After we straightened our clothes, Jake turned around and looked at me. His eye makeup was smeared and a single tear trailed down his cheek, but he had a sublime smile on his face.

I knew right away—that night was in our own personal top ten.

Winner Spanks the Loser

During one summer break in college, I worked as a camp counselor. It was enjoyable, but the real fun happened during the last few days of August when only the adult counselors were left on premises. There was no one left to supervise and little work to do. We spent those days eyeing each other, searching for the opportunity to act on the attractions that had been simmering during the past twelve weeks.

On one of those sultry nights, I was hanging out in the rec room with Miranda, another counselor who was my age—we were both headed into our senior year at different universities. We were playing Ping-Pong, each round punctuated by tequila shots. I found myself staring at her butt each time she bent over to retrieve an errant ball. Her low-rise short-shorts hugged her ass in a really sexy way, and the top of her tiny thong poked out of her waistband every time she moved. Okay, maybe I was a little sloppy with my shots because I liked watching her chase that little ball all around the floor. Her curly hair bounced as she ran and left a fragrant trail of sweet perfume lingering in her wake. Soon the whole cabin smelled like a tempting mix of Miranda and coconut suntan lotion.

After the first game, we started making bets: the loser had to finish the other’s paperwork or carry her luggage to the bus—things like that. But as the night wore on, I was having trouble coming up with chaste suggestions. Swinging that red-rubber coated paddle was giving me some seriously dirty ideas. I couldn’t stop imagining bending her over that table and swatting the haughty little rear of this Ivy-league honor student.

And from the way Miranda began looking me over, I got the idea that she was thinking the same kind of naughty thoughts as me. So when it was my turn to call the stakes again, I suggested that the winner spank the loser. She quickly agreed. In the end, I won. I’m not entirely sure she didn’t throw the match, but as soon as she lowered those shorts and wiggled her butt at me, I didn’t care.

I’d expected her to thrust her bottom out at me playfully and take a swat or two, but that wasn’t what she was after. Grabbing the edge of the table, she encouraged me to spank her hard, and I did, enjoying the sound of the rubber slapping against her skin and the sight of her pale ass going from pale pink to cherry red. The color looked even more intense when compared to the white thong that was nestled between her perfect cheeks. Before long, she was moaning loudly and swaying her ass back and forth, offering me a more tempting target. When she spread her legs slightly, I could see the fabric of her panties was starting to darken as it moistened with her honey. Every swat made me even more turned on.

When the sight became too much for me, I tossed the paddle aside and knelt on the floor at her feet. I yanked her panties down, extricating them from her wet cleft. She moaned again when she felt the cool air hit her wet skin. Miranda bucked back toward me, and I dove in hungrily. I began licking her puffy clit and fucking her sweet hole with two overlapped fingers, making her shiver and come in no time. As she shook through her orgasm, her knees grew weak and her pussy mashed against my lips as she lost control. I lapped up all of her juice until she finally caught her breath and pulled away from me, demanding to return the favor.

I perched myself on the edge of the table, and Miranda raised my skirt above my hips, smiling when she saw that I wasn’t wearing any undies. My mind kept replaying the sight of her blushing ass and the sound of the paddle smacking her defenseless behind. Those memories, combined with her rapidly flicking tongue, soon sent me over the edge. My cries of orgasm echoed throughout the empty cabin as I ground my pussy against her pink lips.

I never saw Miranda again, but since that night I’ve never looked at a Ping-Pong paddle the same way again…