Tuesday, February 08, 2005
You slide your hand along my skin, making me melt. The way your hand feels, cupping my ass, holding me. It is magnificent. My God, the things you do to me. The things you encourage me to do. I can't wait to feel you inside me. I begin to sway, rubbing my ass against your hand.
You draw away slightly, and I listen for the sound I want to hear. "Oh GAA!"
"I told you that was just the beginning." You draw your hand back again, and I try unsuccessfully to twist away from you. But you've already got a good grip on me with the other hand, and you have me wedged between your hip and the car door. I'm not going anywhere.
"But..."
Whap! "No buts. You knew I was expecting something from you, and you procrastinated until there was no time to finish." Whack!
You proceed to give me the standard lecture about responsibility, punctuated with frequent reminders that your hand is tougher than my ass. I can feel it getting hotter, turning red and burning under your ministrations.
You finish saying your piece, and the spanks slow down. They become less sharp, your strokes more caress than punishment. You begin to rub my hot, sore ass with each stroke. You continue, waiting for my response to change from one of fear and pain to one of acceptance, surrender, pleasure. You watch as my neck and shoulders relax and I arch my back, laying my head on your shoulder. I lift your hand from my hip and clutch it to my breast, closing my hand over yours as I push back toward you.
"Please," I whisper. You lean in close and ask me to repeat myself. "Please," this time a little louder. You continue to caress me, widening your strokes to take in my hip, my thigh. Again I say "Please." And this time you respond in a way guaranteed to make me ask for more.
You move your hand down and between my legs, just barely touching me. "Oh, God, please," I repeat as I reach behind you to try to pull you closer.
You put your lips next to my ear and ask, "Here? Now?" "Oh, yes. Now, please now. I need you."
And finally, finally I hear the sound I've been waiting for.
You draw away slightly, and I listen for the sound I want to hear. "Oh GAA!"
"I told you that was just the beginning." You draw your hand back again, and I try unsuccessfully to twist away from you. But you've already got a good grip on me with the other hand, and you have me wedged between your hip and the car door. I'm not going anywhere.
"But..."
Whap! "No buts. You knew I was expecting something from you, and you procrastinated until there was no time to finish." Whack!
You proceed to give me the standard lecture about responsibility, punctuated with frequent reminders that your hand is tougher than my ass. I can feel it getting hotter, turning red and burning under your ministrations.
You finish saying your piece, and the spanks slow down. They become less sharp, your strokes more caress than punishment. You begin to rub my hot, sore ass with each stroke. You continue, waiting for my response to change from one of fear and pain to one of acceptance, surrender, pleasure. You watch as my neck and shoulders relax and I arch my back, laying my head on your shoulder. I lift your hand from my hip and clutch it to my breast, closing my hand over yours as I push back toward you.
"Please," I whisper. You lean in close and ask me to repeat myself. "Please," this time a little louder. You continue to caress me, widening your strokes to take in my hip, my thigh. Again I say "Please." And this time you respond in a way guaranteed to make me ask for more.
You move your hand down and between my legs, just barely touching me. "Oh, God, please," I repeat as I reach behind you to try to pull you closer.
You put your lips next to my ear and ask, "Here? Now?" "Oh, yes. Now, please now. I need you."
And finally, finally I hear the sound I've been waiting for.
