by Alex Dawson
I settled back on my heels so that I could reach his cock, and reached down to stroke it softly through the fabric.
"Would you like me to suck you again?" I asked. I was too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. Maybe someone older, someone more experienced, maybe they'd have known exactly what to do, had the confidence to unzip his trousers and pull out his cock and suck it right down their throat, but that wasn't me. I hoped he didn't expect that to be me.
"You don’t have to do that," he said. "I was thinking with my dick earlier, not thinking about you. I should have moved a little slower, not pushed you on your knees and gotten my cock in your mouth right away. Shit, we haven’t even got our shirts off yet."
Again, I could feel my cheeks go red. I was beginning to hate that blushing.
"I enjoyed it," I mumbled.
"Mm," he said," I'm glad to hear that, but I still should have led up to it better."
"How?" I asked.
"Like this, of course," he said, pulling my face back down to his.
We embraced and kissed like that for a few endless minutes, with his hands gentling resting on my hips.
Soon, one hand left my hips and slowly traced a teasing path up my body to my breast. He patted and stroked my stomach by turns as he kept his lips on mine.
Carefully, slowly, he took my perky little melon into his hand. I’d never been touched there before, but I loved to wash my own breasts in the shower, so I thought that I knew how good they could feel.
I was so wrong.
His hot strong hand on my chest made me groan into his mouth. He raised his other hand and grasped my chest more firmly, kneading my breasts with a tenderness that melted my heart as his touch fired my passion.
When his thumbs brushed my hard nipples through my shirt and bra, I shivered in his hands and leaned forward, my diamond-hard nipples straining through the fabric to meet his seeking fingers.
Carefully, he raised my shirt over my belly to the base of my bra and paused, running one of his large manly hands over my flat belly. It was more of his skin on mine than I'd ever felt. No one had touched me this intimately - even when I was sucking his cock, we had both been fully dressed, and it seemed somehow less new and heady than his callouses against my stomach.
He smiled slowly up at me and raised my shirt up further, exposing my little white bra.
"Very nice," he murmured. Looking down, I saw that he could only see a little bit of my skin, a small sliver of my bosom peeking out between my bra and my shirt to tease his eyes.
I reached down and pulled the shirt off over my head, getting stuck for a moment and then shimmying the rest of the way out. The motion rubbed my sex against the hot hardness that his pants were barely containing and we both stifled moans.
He reached around behind me and unhooked my bra, fumbling with the clasp for only a minute. He threw the little white garment aside and pulled me against him, taking my nipple into his mouth and sucking it fiercely, pulling my love globe into his wet mouth. I cried out from the feeling of it and he chuckled around my nub, flicking it with his tongue until I cried out again as the arousal pulsed in my sex.
His hands, calloused from the work that all Cowboys did on their own rides, felt amazing gliding over my skin. Even where they were rough was wonderful, the contrast between his hands and my untouched skin made heat and sparks shoot through my body.
I didn't realize that I was rubbing myself against his cock mindlessly until he pulled his head away from my teat, but an electric shock went through me at how good it felt, before he turned his attention to the other nipple and I got lost in the sensation again.
As he tongued my nipple, he took handfuls of my ass and squeezed through the short skirt I was wearing. I could feel the fabric ride up under his hands, so that his fingertips brushed against my bare cheeks, and again, I shivered against his cock.
He pulled away from my chest, darted back in for one lick to my nipple, and then sat back.
"Give me a minute," he said. "Too far again. God, what you do to me, you're so fucking hot that I can hardly stand it. I need a minute, sweetheart, sorry. Do you mind?"
He gestured at the chair next to the couch and I went to sit on it. My exposed thighs, slightly sweaty and trembling from desire, stuck to the vinyl and I shifted back and forth slightly, getting comfortable as he lay back, shutting his eyes and rubbing his cock in long, slow strokes through his pants.
I wondered if his cock ached anything like my sex did. Seeing that his eyes were still shut, I reached down one finger and rubbed the sweet little spot of need that I found there.
Getting distracted by how amazing the relief from the yearning that my body was feeling, I started to rub slow circles on the fabric of my skirt, throwing my head back and shutting my eyes.
When I lifted one hand and started to roll the pink tip of my breast between my fingers, squeezing the nipple repeatedly, Luke spoke up.
“I could watch you do that for hours,” he said, and I jerked my hands away from my body.
“Why,” I started to ask, and then paused.
Perhaps I wouldn’t like the answer I got - but I had to know.
“Why don’t you want to touch me?” I asked.
He snorted.
“Shit, that isn’t it at all,” he said. “I want to pick you up and fuck you silly against the wall right now, but I’ve never popped a girl’s cherry before, and I really like you, Brandi, I don’t want to hurt you just to get my dick wet. Even girls who weren’t virgins have told me that my cock is too big to take quickly without practice, I want to be sure you’re plenty revved up before I ride you.”
I hesitated.
“Is that what you’d really do right now if I were someone else? One of the Cowboy groupies who hang around?”
“Actually, if you were just another biker-chasing slut, I would have spanked you for showing up before I told you to,” he said.
Surprisingly, the little thrill of fear that went through me at those words contained a small thread of… desire. The idea of getting spanked by this man, of being punished, made the heat pool in my belly and my toes curl.
“Would you mind telling me about spanking?” I asked.
He smiled.
“That’s interesting for you, sweetheart? You could get behind the idea of being bent over my lap?” he asked.
I didn’t trust myself to speak. I simply nodded, looking down at my lap.
“All right, I have a suggestion. Why don’t you touch yourself while I tell you about it?”
“Sure,” I said softly.
At that point, I was perched on the edge of a comfortable old armchair with a crocheted throw with the Cowboy colors tossed over it, wearing nothing but a khaki miniskirt and a thong. I could see my bra on the floor a few feet away, but I wasn’t certain where my shirt was. Luke was fully dressed and smiling his kindest smile at me from the large sofa. I looked totally debauched, but I didn’t mind as much as I perhaps should have. He was such a nice man, and he was being so sweet to me.
I waited for him to start talking, to tell me more about the discipline that had piqued my interest.
He stretched, and I watched his muscles bunch and relax underneath his expensive outfit, as I’d done so many times before - generally, though, while fully dressed!
Finally, I broke the silence.
“Um?” I began, before trailing off again.
“Hey, I said I would tell you all about it while you touched yourself, and I don’t see that happening yet,” he said.
“Oh!” I replied.
I had to start touching myself again, knowing that his eyes were on me.
I crossed my legs and, blushing, reached up to touch one of my pearled tips, which was already achingly hard and proudly erect. The barest brush of my fingers against it made me shiver and muffle a moan, and when I grasped it in a tighter hold, I leaned my head back and shut my eyes with pleasure.
After that first teasing caress, it was easier to touch myself.
>
The same hand that had just begun to stroke and pet my nipple grasped my entire breast and gave a soft squeeze, and then stroked down my belly to the waistband of my skirt.
I hesitated. Should I tease myself on the outside of the fabric, or would he like to see me take it off?
For now, I decided, I needed to go ahead and touch myself through the fabric. I was so tormentingly aroused that I wasn't sure a touch to my bare skin wouldn't make me explode.
Carefully, I started tracing little patterns on my skirt above my most sensitive parts. Little circles around the nub I knew was hiding there, occasionally an X that crossed right over it to make me moan.
Luke started saying "Shit, girl, this is the best show I have seen in a long time."
His voice was lower than I'd heard it. Did desire make it so?
"If you were anyone else, when you marched into my house nearly a full week early, I would have kissed you, and grabbed a handful of your ass, and perhaps slid a hand up your shirt to squeeze one of your nipples - hard. I'd like to see you squeeze one of your own nipples that way, would you mind doing that for me?"
My hand left off what it was doing and slowly slid up my stomach to my breast, and, with only a slight hesitation, I squeezed one of my nipples.
"Harder," he said, quietly.
I pressed my fingers together more forcefully, the pain making me breathe raggedly for a moment as the desire swelled within me.
"Very good," he said, "I like that. Next, I would have taken your hand and led you into the living room, this room right here. I would have brought you right over to the chair where you're sitting now, only I would have had you bend over it, fully dressed."
I shivered and returned my hand back to the cloth of my skirt, pressing harder at the aching little spot that was waiting there.
"I would have gone ahead and spanked you once, on the fabric of your little skirt, just as a warm-up."
I slipped a single finger between the waistband of my skirt and my underwear, feeling the softness of my pubic hair.
"Then I would have lifted your skirt up over your back, so I could see what underwear you were wearing, and look at the white globes of your ass. What underwear are you wearing, my dear girl, would you mind showing me?"
Slowly, I removed my finger from my waistband and uncrossed my legs, before spreading my creamy thighs and lifting my skirt up to touch my belly, so he could see the little lacy thong between my legs. I knew from a naughty peek in a mirror a few months ago that this thong barely covered my hidden sex, so I was almost bare to his eyes.
"Oh, that's very nice," he murmured. In a louder voice, he asked "Is this helping you? Would you like me to continue."
"Yes, please," I said.
"I would have carefully run one hand over both of your asscheeks, to feel how soft your skin was, and then I would have pulled my hand away and slapped one of them. Not too hard, just enough to startle you and see if I could make you moan. Yes, just like that. You're very good at this."
Now that my thong was exposed, I started running my finger down the length of it, over all of the parts that craved to be touch, the parts it was barely containing. I could feel how damp it was growing, letting me slide my finger smoothly over the lace, faster and faster as it grew wetter and wetter.
"If you were silent, I would remind you after that to count the blows for me, to say 'one, sir' as I'd taught you."
I nodded quietly to myself and continued enjoying the little sparks of need that my body was giving in response to this dramatic story.
"Now, now, I think you can listen to the rest without touching yourself," he said.
I pulled my hands reluctantly from my body and placed them on the arms of the chair.
"If you had been anyone else, I would have given you twenty strokes of my hand to make up for the crime of disobeying my wishes. You would have counted them properly, and when I was done, I would have felt your little thong, just like you just did, to see how wet you’d gotten.”
Eyes still shut, head still thrown back, I moaned a little and sunk further into the comforting bulk of the armchair.
“How wet have you gotten, Brandi?” he asked softly.
“Uh… very wet. Really wet. I don’t remember being this wet before,” I babbled.
“May I come feel how wet you are for me?” he asked.
I nodded and spread my legs a little wider.
“You’re so good,” he murmured. “Did you like hearing about the spanking?”
I nodded again, a flush spreading across my cheeks.
“Would you like a little spanking of your own?” he asked.”I could spank you, just a few strokes, and then feel how wet it made you.”
A third time, I nodded.
“I’d like that,” I said, my voice barely emerging.
“Why don’t you get in position for it?” he asked.
I stood slowly up, still dressed only in skirt and thong. When I opened my eyes, I saw that his pants were unzipped and his hardness was standing free, his hand giving his shaft long strokes as he looked at me.
“Well?” he asked, smiling at me again.
I walked around to the side of the chair, facing away from him, bending over the leather-clad arm until my ass was in the air. To steady myself, I reached to the opposite arm and held it with both hands.
I heard him stand up, and soon I felt one of his hands rubbing my ass, just as he’d said they would. My cheeks clenched and I trembled, knowing that next would come a blow from one of his powerful hands.
It didn’t take long. The first strike was fairly light, I heard it more than I felt it, especially as he had yet to lift my skirt up, but it still stung a little, and I shifted my feet, wiggling my rear around.
His hand returned to rubbing my ass for a moment, soothing the prickling skin.
“I think you’ve forgotten something,” he said.
What could I possibly have forgotten? I was bent over the expensive leather armchair, just like he’d described. He didn’t say that I had to stay still and quiet.
Oh. That was it - he had, in fact, specifically said that I was not supposed to be silent. I remembered the hot scenario that he had just described for me, how hearing him say the words in his deep voice turned me on. Would it turn him on to hear me count each and every spank, just like in his fantasy?
“One, sir,” I said.
“Good girl,” he replied. “Now, I think that you’re a little over-dressed for the occasion, don’t you?”
I nodded shyly, my head down.
Another strike! This one was harder, and I yelped a little.
“Two, sir,” I said, my voice shaking a little. Why had he spanked me again? I thought he was going to lift my skirt up.
“I think you’re wondering why I just spanked you. When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer me out loud if possible,” he said. “You may call me ‘sir’ or ‘Boss,’ although if we’re in public or we’re not playing, you may still call me ‘Luke,’ of course.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. How would it not be possible for me to answer out loud? I wondered, before remembering how my mouth had stretched around the head of his cock. Oh.
“Good girl,” he said softly.
He rubbed my spanked cheek a few times before his hand slid down to the hem of my little khaki miniskirt.
“May I lift this up, Brandi?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I said, “I’d… I’d like you to.”
He lifted the hem of my skirt above my hips, covering part of my back but exposing the two firm globes of my tight ass.
“So gorgeous,” he murmured. “You have one of the best asses I’ve ever seen.”
I blushed a little from the compliment, and then felt ridiculous. Luke had spanked me and I’d sucked his cock, but a compliment on my rump was embarrassing? How silly that sounded to me.
“All right,” he said. “I’m ready to give you a little spanking. Are you ready to get one?”
“Yes, sir,” I
said.
“I’m serious,” he went on, “If you didn’t enjoy the first two smacks, with your skirt between my hand and your-” he squeezed one of my cheeks “-cute little ass, you won’t enjoy more of a spanking, and this is all about fun. I don’t ever want you to really be hurting.”
I nodded.
“All right…” he said, “Go ahead and start counting again. Those two little things didn’t really count, now, did they?”
Busy listening to him talk, I really wasn’t expecting the first blow on my bare butt. It smarted, but it didn’t hurt.
