by Carl Hamlin
The sting seemed to be reaching a crescendo when she once again felt the brush resting between her shoulder blades. Like before, Clay began to massage her lower back with his left hand, while the right hand returned to soothing her now hot, stinging bottom. But this time, his hand slipped inside the panties, his fingertips starting to engage in a type of mischief that caused her to moan as her arousal began to peak.
After a couple of minutes of Clay’s intimate stroking, she felt his fingertips travel teasingly like a spider up the center of her bottom to her lower back, causing her to giggle, as she finally felt the white silk panties being lowered. Clay used both hands to lower the thin garment, as Libby raised her bottom slightly and he lowered them to her knees. But before she settled back into place, she enticingly wiggled her bottom to Clay’s delight.
Next she felt the cool wooden surface of the brush massaging and circling her bare bottom, before it drew away and returned with a SMACK, generating a yelp from Libby. The brush resumed its travels across the red flesh before… SMACK. More massaging, then… SMACK… SMACK… SMACK… SMACK… SMACK!
Clay stopped for a moment, then reached for the panties hovering at her knees and pulled them the rest of the way off. Then, he picked up the brush once again… SMACK… SMACK… SMACK!
Libby raised her bottom, causing Clay to put the brush aside and treat her to an intimate massage. And as his right hand was providing her with enough stimulation to bring about loud moaning, his left hand was underneath, reaching up to her breasts, stimulating her nipples through her clothing, heightening her arousal. A minute later, Libby erupted with a climax unlike any she had known in her young life, as Clay continued the stimulation to ensure that she would not be denied any bit of pleasure.
Clay watched in affection and fascination, Libby’s squirming writhing pleasure, her toes curling to accompany her cries and moans. His fingertips did not stop until she collapsed, totally spent across his lap. She looked back with a dreamy expression, writhing once again. “Mmm…mmm…MMM!”
Clay resumed massaging her back and bottom as she purred and murmured in appreciation. After several minutes, she raised herself to kneel once more, and then began to rub her hand up and down his thigh. Once again, Clay found his ear being nibbled upon as she giggled and proclaimed, “Your turn.”
Libby ignored the panties that rested in a heap on the floor, as she walked over to Clay’s bed and pulled back the covers and sat down. She wiggled her index finger at him to motion for him to join her there, and when he did so, she patted the bed for him to sit down next to her.
She giggled and said to him, “Let me do all the work. I think I would like to do this right.” She knelt on the floor and began to remove his shoes, then his socks. Then standing in front of him she unbuttoned his shirt and tie, removing them. With a tug on his hand, she guided him to stand up, as she unbuckled his jeans, allowing them to fall to the floor, and then reached inside the waistband of his boxer shorts to free the erection that eagerly awaited her attention. While pulling down his shorts, Libby giggled and shook her head. “My, my… we have undeniable proof of the extent to which spanking me turns you on. Just look at this thing. I’ll have to fix that.”
They collapsed onto the bed in laughter, then Libby coaxed Clay onto his back, kissing him as her hand traveled to his lower abdomen, then began to tease and tickle him by traveling up and down his inner thighs. When Clay’s breathing became rapid, and his moans of anticipation more urgent, Libby began to softly, but thoroughly, stroke him.
He lunged upward when the stroking began, and then it was his turn to writhe beneath another’s tender and teasing touch. Libby did all that she could to extend the process, watching how he reacted to various levels of friction from her fingertips on different regions of his shaft. She would speed up, and then slow down, moving her fingertips up and down, remembering which movements in which places seemed to excite him the most and would be key to bringing him to completion.
She stroked softly and petted him until she felt that it was cruel to deny him any longer. Recalling her observations, she placed her fingertips on the underside of the middle of his shaft, working on the spot slowly at first, then gradually increasing the speed of her up-and-down movements until it was his turn to cry out in climax. She continued her work until there was no remaining doubt that he could not have experienced any more pleasure. They remained on the bed for a while, exchanging kisses and compliments.
* * * * *
It was an hour later that they awoke on the bed, their antics and minimal alcohol intake having rendered them quite drowsy. Clay got up from the bed and told Libby that he would be right back after a quick shower. Libby looked at her watch and exhaled a deep sigh of disappointment that the hour was so late.
Libby stayed on the bed for a minute, feeling contented listening to the shower; then she got up from the bed and walked over next to the sofa, retrieved her panties and pulled them on. Just then, Clay emerged clad in just a towel.
Laughing, Clay reclined on the bed and motioned for Libby to join him once more. She lay down on the bed next to the nearly–naked Clay, leaning over and kissing him, then began to shake her head with a mock look of concern on her face. “You know, Mister Harris… you worked so hard this evening.” She took hold of the towel and pulled it off of him. Her hand once again descended to below his waist. “I think that before I leave, I need to make sure you don’t go to bed still horny.” The stroking resumed, including the same skillful teasing he had experienced an hour before, and bringing about the same results.
Libby leaned over to kiss him good night, and began to sit up on the side of the bed. But he took hold of her arm and said, “Not quite yet.” He coaxed Libby onto her back, then hiked up her dress and began to slowly take down her panties, which were quickly dispatched to the foot of the bed. His warm hand then started caressing the entire middle of her body. “I don’t want to take a chance on you going to bed still horny, either.”
Chapter Five
Libby woke at 8:00 AM, and when she raised her head from her pillow she saw that Veronica was still asleep. She closed her eyes and pulled her spare pillow over her face to make the room seem darker. She did not want to relinquish the evening she had just experienced. She found herself pleasantly unnerved by the effects of Clay’s hands and that otherwise unremarkable hairbrush to which she had never before given a second thought when using it to brush her hair. In the future, simply using the brush for its intended purpose would likely cause her to feel a tingling throughout her body.
Although her sexual experience was minimal, she was thrilled to find that she greatly enjoyed some kinky little spanking play. At the same time, she was rattled by the acknowledgment that she had also previously found some pleasure in a spanking meant to be nothing but punishment.
She hoped that she and Clay were not jeopardizing their blossoming relationship by moving so quickly toward intimacy. But all that she could think of were the sensations of his touch, the warmth of his hand and the probing and stimulating movements. Beneath the covers, she smiled at the memories of her own fingertips bringing him to release as well.
As she reluctantly rose from the bed and headed to her shower, she was conflicted with concern over her undeniable realization that she had fallen head over heels for Clay Harris. She wondered what was going through his mind as everyone prepared to board the bus before lunchtime and head on to the next show.
There was no question that they had enjoyed each other’s company, and each other’s ability to bring the other to arousal and completion. She simply did not know how well she would handle it, if the relationship went no further.
Libby may have initially found Clay Harris to be arrogant and too sure of himself. After all, during their first conversation he had made it clear that if she defaulted to some of her worst behaviors on the job, he would reserve the option of taking her over his knees and paddling her. Then he had actually done so, but that only brought them together. At leas
t, she hoped that it had brought them together.
There was no denying that the previous evening had been unlike anything she had ever known before. A week ago she would never have coaxed a man into giving her an erotic spanking. Then that was followed by a session of what her mother used to call ‘heavy petting’. In any case, the pleasure had been sensational and unforgettable.
* * * * *
Clay finished packing his luggage, and as he started to wheel his large suitcase through the room, he halted in front of his image in the mirror. He began to question the character of the man who looked back, concerned that he was perhaps enjoying the physical delights of a young woman lacking the experience his extra eight years of age provided.
He was rattled by the fear that Libby had found him to be a fun and pleasurable playmate, but nothing more. It was not like Clay Harris to feel so quickly taken by and attracted to a woman. His deepest fear at that moment was that Libby might not become a permanent and vital part of his life. It may have not been logical, but it was unquestionably what he was feeling at the time.
He could not believe that upon meeting this enchanting young woman, he had threatened to spank her. He had not actually been serious when he said that to her; but as he watched her in the bar that night, he had felt such concern for her that he decided that the idea may just have been appropriate. So he did it.
Clay was not the kind of man to use women. In fact, in spite of his good looks and self- assurance combined with his business success and experience, he had lived a rather conservative life when it came to relationships. He had slept with a couple of women in the past, but he was astonished that a comparatively innocent evening with Libby had been much more erotic and sexually fulfilling than anything he had ever known before.
Beneath her brash exterior was a warm and wonderful young woman. Clay just did not know how he would react if the relationship did not progress further.
* * * * *
Libby climbed the steps into the tour bus after the band members filed on. She glanced to the back and saw that Clay was once again huddling with Max, likely about arrangements for another concert. She watched for a moment, then just as she was about to sit down in an open swivel chair near the front, Clay looked up and smiled at her, closed his binder, nodded to Max and walked to the front.
He sat down in the chair next to her, and took her by the hand before leaning toward her to whisper, “I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed last night.”
Libby whispered back, “That was absolutely… wow!”
They soon noticed that several smiling faces were watching them, and all they could do was simply grin in return as the bus pulled away from the hotel parking lot; each of them wondering if the other was looking as wistfully at the hotel and the memories contained there.
Soon after they pulled out onto the highway, Veronica came to sit in the remaining empty seat next to them. She began to tease and embarrass Libby with stories she remembered from their younger days, or that had been told to her by Libby’s parents.
Hearing those stories only made Clay’s heart yearn even more for the entrancing young red haired woman sitting next to him. Although the stories were interspersed with some tales of misbehavior, the rest only tended to reinforce Clay’s conclusion that he had met a woman unlike any others he had known.
For his part, Clay good-naturedly responded to Veronica’s urgings to reveal more about his own past. During his dinner chats with Libby, he had not mentioned his time as a medic in the Army, or a year working as a volunteer in a health clinic serving the poor in an Appalachian section of West Virginia. The revelations only reinforced to Libby that this was a man to be seriously considered.
The three of them ended up sitting together all day, getting better acquainted and telling stories all the way to Oklahoma City where another hotel awaited, followed the next evening by another concert. As the hours went by, Libby and Clay found their desire to be together growing stronger with each passing mile.
* * * * *
After the show that night, Veronica joined Libby and Clay at a small round table in the hotel bar. To the joking admonishment from her companions, Libby decided to nurse one beer through what was left of the evening. When Libby rose to walk to the jukebox to look for a song she liked, Veronica sat back with a smile and observed how Clay’s eyes followed the movements of the petite redhead strolling across the room in her tiny denim skirt.
Veronica stayed with them for a little while, and then excused herself to go back to the room under the pretense of being tired. In reality, she just wanted to leave them alone with each other.
She was still awake, but pretending to be asleep on her side when Libby made her way back to the room and sat down and started undressing. Suddenly, Libby heard Veronica ask, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”
Libby laughed. “I don’t know.”
Veronica turned over and looked at Libby. “I think that Clay does.” She then turned back onto her side without saying another word.
Libby sat motionless for several minutes, absorbing the meaning of the moment. Then tears flowed silently down her cheeks as she was overcome with emotion. Hearing such conjecture from Veronica allowed her to confess to herself what she already knew: while lying bare–bottomed across Clay’s knees in that tour bus with her tender fanny being set on fire, she had found someone she could not live without.
* * * * *
Several days went by before the band and the crew had much free time, in addition to the concerts almost every other night, Max and Clay had arranged for some promotional public appearances and charity events. Nearly every moment of Libby’s time was spent working on, designing and ordering new outfits for the performers. All that Libby and Clay were able to manage were occasional kisses and rare embraces.
They had a Saturday night concert in Branson, Missouri, playing for one of the largest crowds in Max’s career. Being in a city that was a hotspot for country-western music only added to the excitement.
Libby would have given anything to have the next day free to fool around with Clay. But Max had reserved a large conference room at their hotel for a Sunday afternoon steak dinner. Everyone in the group from band members to luggage handlers were to be treated to the sumptuous meal, a gathering that would also serve as an opportunity for Max to express his gratitude to all assembled, and to give a business report.
At least Libby was able to sit next to Clay and Veronica at the dinner. She had not slept well after the previous night’s concert, as she was having problems getting some of the costume designs just right, and she tossed and turned all night, unable to get the problem resolved to her satisfaction.
As a result, she was struggling to maintain her concentration on everything that Max was telling them. As she sat there in her off–the–shoulder midnight blue satin dress with the low neckline and plunging back, she nearly nodded off at times. She listened to reports on revenues, announcements of upcoming concerts and even struggled to maintain her attention when Max would express accolades for one member of the crew or another. She simply made it a point to join in whenever the rest began to applaud.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Max refer to having one final announcement to make, and as she took a sip of water, his words hardly registered with her at first. “And I am very pleased to announce that one of the newer members of our family has been nominated for two prestigious, national awards for the design of performance attire. Libby… congratulations. Stand up and take a bow, sweetheart. And boys… this time only, it’s okay to whistle.”
The stunned young woman stood to a roomful of hearty applause, and indeed accented by endless wolf whistles, catcalls and the stomping of feet. Her face turning pink, and tears forming in her eyes, she simply waved to the crowd and silently nodded in appreciation.
The dinner over, there were many in the room being congratulated for one honor or another; but Libby was a special focus of attention. It was partly because of her being so ho
nored in spite of her youth and inexperience, and partly because many in the room would find any excuse to be close to the stunning redhead. In any case, Veronica was already busy with her camera, sending photos and text messages back to Libby’s parents and other family members.
Before Libby had been able to leave the conference room and receive a kiss and hug from the approaching Clay Harris, her phone chimed. It was her parents calling her on their speakerphone, expressing a level of pride and love that made Libby begin to cry tears of happiness in addition to the tears she shed from being homesick.
Her phone conversation over, Libby and Clay put their arms around each other’s waists and headed to the hotel bar to join other members of the band and crew. They took seats at a table to join some of the equipment handlers, but after a couple of minutes of sitting there after their beers arrived, Libby walked over to the jukebox and put a coin in the machine.
Suddenly the mellow voice of George Strait singing Amarillo by Morning poured over the room, and Libby had no sooner turned away from the jukebox, than Clay was there to embrace her in a slow dance. Libby’s red hair was radiant in contrast to the short and silky dark blue dress, and as the other wannabe cowboys and roadies looked on in absolute and agonizing envy, Libby placed her head against Clay’s chest and allowed her heart to travel to another place.
After their dance, they returned to the table and tried to make lighthearted conversation. However, Clay noticed that there had been a change in Libby’s demeanor since they had returned to their chairs. She seemed distracted and tense, a marked contrast to the warm and celebratory mood of less than an hour before.
Unable to understand what was happening, Clay whispered to Libby that he wanted to leave, and she seemed relieved. Outside the bar in the hallway, Libby suddenly stopped, turned toward Clay and put her hands on his shoulders with an expression that was one of pleading. “Can we go somewhere?”
