I've been angling for hints all day, but you're obstinate. I know you have a plan. You always have a plan.
I don't know if you're going to bring me to a shadowy stairwell, push me against the wall and grope me until I'm wet and panting, then up to a chaotic rooftop party where nobody minds when you spread my legs and thrust your fingers into me, hard and deep...
Or if you're going to dress me up and take me out, pulling me down dark alleys on every block, teasing me (vibe nestled against my clit, pretty jeweled plug in my asshole, clamp on each nipple) until I can barely walk, and on a crowded, brightly-lit corner I have to beg you to take me home and fuck me, passers-by staring...
Or if you're going to lie to a bar full of strangers that it's my birthday, bend me over a barstool and spank the hell out of me, inviting them to help, hiking up my skirt to expose my panties and then my bare skin, and when I groan, all those hands mauling my ass and swollen pussy, you shove your cock into my mouth to shut me up, and we'll get kicked out, arrested maybe, but I won't stop you (or whoever it is that's started pounding into my aching cunt)...
Funny, you always call me your naughty girl, your dirty slut, but you're the one with the ideas. Me? I'm just along for the ride.
[written for Alison Tyler's naughty contest]
Showing posts with label spanking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spanking. Show all posts
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Hood Ornament
He's waiting in the parking lot, leaning against the car, watching me. When I get there he kisses me, long and slow. He pulls up my shirt, sucks on my nipples, gropes my ass--and then pulls away.
"Thought I told you to lose those," he says, disappointed.
"What?" I half-laugh. "I thought you were kidding. You always say it's such a cliche."
He frowns. "Wrong answer."
He turns me around, pushes me down over the hood. My breath rushes out in a startled yelp. He lifts my skirt and yanks the offending panties down to my knees. When the cool air skitters over my exposed flesh I realize how wet I am.
"Shame I've only got the one," he mutters. There's the telltale clink of the buckle. "Bind your wrists? Or whip your ass?"
My heartbeat thumps hollowly against the car. He's never used anything on me but his hand.
He strokes my clit with the leather tip, once, like a tongue. I shudder, hear myself moan.
Then a burst of noise as a rowdy bunch of college boys spill into the lot. I move to stand and pull my skirt down, but he stills me with a look. I gulp. Blush. Close my eyes.
I can tell when they notice us. There's an abrupt silence, then a disbelieving snicker or two. I can feel their eyes on me. I want to disappear. But, also, my pussy throbs.
"Say," he says mildly. "Any of you fellas wearing a belt?"
[written for Alison Tyler's leather contest]
"Thought I told you to lose those," he says, disappointed.
"What?" I half-laugh. "I thought you were kidding. You always say it's such a cliche."
He frowns. "Wrong answer."
He turns me around, pushes me down over the hood. My breath rushes out in a startled yelp. He lifts my skirt and yanks the offending panties down to my knees. When the cool air skitters over my exposed flesh I realize how wet I am.
"Shame I've only got the one," he mutters. There's the telltale clink of the buckle. "Bind your wrists? Or whip your ass?"
My heartbeat thumps hollowly against the car. He's never used anything on me but his hand.
He strokes my clit with the leather tip, once, like a tongue. I shudder, hear myself moan.
Then a burst of noise as a rowdy bunch of college boys spill into the lot. I move to stand and pull my skirt down, but he stills me with a look. I gulp. Blush. Close my eyes.
I can tell when they notice us. There's an abrupt silence, then a disbelieving snicker or two. I can feel their eyes on me. I want to disappear. But, also, my pussy throbs.
"Say," he says mildly. "Any of you fellas wearing a belt?"
[written for Alison Tyler's leather contest]
Saturday, January 24, 2009
First Date: August
In the diner, they talk. She wants him to touch her. She could scoot forward on the seat, rub her crotch against his knee. But she doesn't.
In the lobby, they wait for the movie to start. Nobody's around. She wants him to touch her. She could lean in close and kiss him, but she doesn't.
In the movie, he puts his arm around her. She sinks into him, grateful. She wants him to touch her more. She takes his hand, places it on her knee. He gets the picture. He's slow but deliberate, makes his way up the inside of her thigh, watching her squirm and grimace. At the top, he does not grab or squeeze or stroke, like every other boy in the world. He taps, gently, as if he's asking to be let in. She's dizzy, can barely breathe. He pushes her panties aside and there's skin on skin and she's ridiculously wet and his finger slides into her and her whole body is suffused with joy.
In the hotel room, he's touching her already and she's not quiet anymore. She's on all fours on the bed and he's spanking her, hard and sweet, and his fingers are inside her and they can both feel her cunt contract. She would weep with relief but she's too busy laughing.
She knows he isn't hers. He belongs to someone else. Eventually, things are going to change.
But for now, at least, she is exactly where she wants to be.
[written for Alison Tyler's "change" contest]
In the lobby, they wait for the movie to start. Nobody's around. She wants him to touch her. She could lean in close and kiss him, but she doesn't.
In the movie, he puts his arm around her. She sinks into him, grateful. She wants him to touch her more. She takes his hand, places it on her knee. He gets the picture. He's slow but deliberate, makes his way up the inside of her thigh, watching her squirm and grimace. At the top, he does not grab or squeeze or stroke, like every other boy in the world. He taps, gently, as if he's asking to be let in. She's dizzy, can barely breathe. He pushes her panties aside and there's skin on skin and she's ridiculously wet and his finger slides into her and her whole body is suffused with joy.
In the hotel room, he's touching her already and she's not quiet anymore. She's on all fours on the bed and he's spanking her, hard and sweet, and his fingers are inside her and they can both feel her cunt contract. She would weep with relief but she's too busy laughing.
She knows he isn't hers. He belongs to someone else. Eventually, things are going to change.
But for now, at least, she is exactly where she wants to be.
[written for Alison Tyler's "change" contest]
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