Her pretty, tight ass, wrapped in her faded, tight jeans, poked back at me enticingly. “Well seeing as how I’m such a slow-coach, and holding Your Majesty up, maybe you should just spank me, and carry me out in my bra?”
I’d been trying to get her to a point we could get out the door. I needed coffee, and I’d talked myself into a tall, black Americano at our favourite cafe by the canal. She was faffing, I had a caffeine-withdrawal grump on, and was honestly being a bit of a dick. But she was being a sassy little bitch, so I guess we were even. The night before she had let one or two things slip that lead me to think she might share my kink, though the opportunity hadn’t arisen to dig deeper. So I took her up on her offer, and laid a “fairly” playful smack to the seat of her fine backside.
She gaped at me for a second. “You bastard!” She snapped, with about 20% indignation, 30% smouldering arousal, and about 50% shock that I’d taken her up on her offer. “Do that again!”, she dared.
I sensed her confusion, and saw the flash in her eyes, and I was a little worried I’d overstepped the mark. “Look, Tammy…” I started.
“No.” Her voice was softer, deeper. She gripped the front of my T-shirt and pulled me in for a hungry kiss. “Do that again. Please”. Her eyes were blazing. She turned slowly, forty-five degrees, but her eyes never left mine. I thought my cock might do itself a mischief pressing against my jeans. I spanked her again on the other perfect cheek, making it quiver momentarily even in its tight, denim wrapping. Her soft mouth parted, and she gasped almost silently as the sound of the slap bounced around the bedroom. Her eyes begged me for more. I obliged.
I aimed my slaps at that beautiful territory where her ass met her thigh. The sound of the slaps, and the sound of her breathy reaction, was unbelievable. I alternated from left cheek, to right, back, and forth, rhythmical but slow, leaving the space for five or six heartbeats between each spank. With each one, she was inadvertently bending over, balancing herself on the flat of her cluttered dressing table, until her forearms were flat and her ass was fully presented, begging for my hand. With each one, her mouth opened wider, and her explosive little sounds increased their volume.
Within a couple of minutes, her eyes we closed. With each smack on her ass she let out a deep, earthy groan, and her knees began to give a little. Was she about to cum? I stopped my spanking, and reached around to the front of her jeans, popping open the button and steadily unzipping the fly. I peeled the skin-tight jeans down her gorgeous thighs to her knees. God, she was red as fuck round the outside of her white panties, she must have been sore. I caressed her pantie-clad ass, and she moaned, knees giving again. I stroked to her sex - it was sopping wet with her girlie pre-cum. I pulled the slick material to the side, slipping inside the flimsy fabric I toyed with her perfect cunt, running two fingers slowly up, and down, in between both sets of her lips, mercilessly teasing her poking clit. Back, and forth. Over, and over. Up, and down.
Tammy’s head cradled into her arms, and she let out the moan of a woman losing control. She all but sucked my thumb inside her, and the combination of thumb inside, and fingers outside, sent her reeling over the edge. I caught her as her legs buckled, and braced her against me, allowing her to safely pump and cry out her cum, over, and over, and over. After a minute (that seemed somehow hours long, she was utterly spent.
I scooped her in my arms, and lay her on the bed. She made a stunning sight, with her tight jeans still restraining her at the knees, her face and bangs matter from sweat and tears of pleasure, her soaked panties clinging to her perfect body in indescribable ways. I lay beside her, slid an arm under her so she could rest on my chest, and let he snuffle away on my best T-shirt in post-orgasmic bliss.
Ah, fuck it. Who needs coffee, anyway?