Naughty Spanking Two

by Miranda Forbes

  Just when I thought I would scream if he didn’t start spanking me, I felt his palm come down squarely across my cheeks. The force of the blow made me gasp, and I realised I’d been holding my breath.

  There was a brief silence and then Andy said, “I’m waiting, Amanda.”

  I realised what he wanted me to say, and blurted out, “Thank you, Mr Collins.” I felt as though I was slipping unprotestingly into the rôle of naughty schoolgirl, rather than the cool class rebel I had wanted to be.

  “That’s better.” His hand stroked over my backside again, and then slapped me for a second time. Even though it stung through my thin knickers, this time I didn’t hesitate to thank him for the blow.

  After that, I thought he would dispense with the remaining four quickly and efficiently, but he didn’t. It didn’t seem to bother him that one of the cleaners, thinking the college to be deserted, might walk into the room at any moment and see me with my jeans down and my barely-clad bottom on display. He was relishing my discomfort, stringing my punishment out for as long as he could. And, what was worse, between slaps his caressing of my bottom was becoming more and more intimate. His fingers were moving down between my cheeks, over the gusset of my knickers which, to my shame, was beginning to dampen. I told myself that the situation couldn’t possibly be turning me on, but I knew that was a lie. Everything about being so exposed, so vulnerable, so submissive was making me wetter and more aroused than I had been in ages, and Andy couldn’t fail to notice it.

  For the last of the six, he inflicted the ultimate humiliation on me. He pulled my knickers down, too, so he could slap my bare, quivering arse. He ordered me to spread my legs as widely as I could, which wasn’t easy as my movements were hobbled by my clothing, but I did as I was told, knowing he was taking a good long look at the hidden secrets between my legs. This final slap was the hardest of the lot, and tears actually pricked my eyes as I thanked him, but inside my nerves were buzzing and my body felt alive with sensation.

  Andy told me to remove my jeans and knickers entirely, and as I did so I heard the rasp of his fly coming down. When I felt him guiding the solid head of his cock between my pussy lips, I realised that punishing me had got him more than a little excited, too.

  He grasped hold of my hips firmly and began to fuck me. The position we were in meant that my pubic bone was rubbing against the edge of the desk with every thrust, and while it wasn’t particularly comfortable, it meant I was getting all the stimulation I needed to propel me rapidly towards climax. Andy’s mouth was at my ear, murmuring how well I’d taken my punishment and how beautiful my arse looked with the prints of his fingers on it. His words created a vivid image in my head of my tender, rosy bottom, marked as his, and that, combined with the forceful way in which Andy was fucking me, was enough to take me over the edge. My pussy muscles spasmed again and again and I lost myself to the power of my climax. I was vaguely aware that Andy was coming, too, and when he pulled out of me he spun me round, took me in his arms and kissed me.

  “Thank you, Mr Collins,” I said a little breathlessly, as I groped for my discarded clothing, aware of the need to dress and leave before someone discovered us in the middle of our extra-curricular activities.

  “Call me Andy,” he replied, and I realised we had reverted back to our normal rôles – or as normal as they could be, given what had just happened between us. “And I want to see an improvement in your behaviour from now on – or you know what to expect …”

  I made the decision on the way home that I would keep taking the maths classes, however difficult I found them, but I wouldn’t give up being bad altogether – not now I knew how much fun it could be to incur the wrath of my teacher.

  Aviatricks

  by Roger Frank Selby

  Sonja was a typical flying instructor, most of the time, but she was also a very shapely woman all the time. Erik tried to concentrate on his flying, despite the left breast in contact with his right arm – this hidden, feminine part of her, bouncing noticeably with each ripple of the turbulent summer air.

  So far the cross-country had been difficult, if not disastrous. The aircraft was not the usual Robin. It was the same basic type, of course, but many instruments were subtly different. The airspeed indicator was calibrated in kilometres per hour as well as knots – this had been pretty distracting during the takeoff and climb out. Minor controls were also in different positions, and worst of all, the radio was weak and crackly. Humiliatingly, Sonja had helped him out when he’d had trouble understanding the air traffic controller as he negotiated a military zone crossing.

  But now he’d settled down a bit and things were going reasonably well, provided he made a big play of doing his lookout and FREDA check every so often. He was even holding his course reasonably well on this long leg.

  “It gets very hot in here, ja?”

  Ja, it was getting hot, now she mentioned it. “Yes, these bubble canopies become greenhouses in the sunshine, don’t they?” Despite the long streets of fair-weather cumulous – stretching from just above, to the far horizon – they were still in strong sunlight much of the time. He looked around for the air vent lever … Jesus, that was different, too; and the bloody thing seemed to be jammed closed! He hated to ask her to help out again, but she was already on the case.

  “Here, I try it …” She leaned across him in the tight cockpit to reach the knob, and while she fiddled, her breast jiggled deliciously in the crook of his forearm; she almost seemed to be doing it deliberately. He glanced at her. A beautiful woman with light blue eyes, she wore her long, dark hair pinned up – cleared for action, he imagined.

  She smiled. “No, it is stuck. I think there is enough to breathe, but it gets warmer.” Almost reluctantly, she sat back again, with a big sigh – which he didn’t hear, but felt, via more breast pressure on his arm.

  Jesus, this bosom contact was beginning to affect him! He glanced down. Yes! He tried to ease his 4 point harness to cover his growing problem, but she’d already noticed. Sonja didn’t miss a trick.

  “Time for another lookout scan,” she nagged.

  A slim white glider, fast cruising between the thermals under the streets of cloud, passed 500 ft below, well clear. She’d already seen that, too. God, it was hot in here!

  “You must learn to keep up your scan, whatever distract you!” And with that, she removed her headset, loosened her shoulder harness and took off her shirt. She threw it behind her into the aft stowage.

  OK, she had a bra on, a black one, which she filled up very well. But bras, unlike bikini tops are rather private items, very much a prelude to sex, from a male viewpoint. Erik’s preliminary erection became full blown. He groaned down the intercom, but she already had her headset back on.

  “What the matter? It is hot – we make ourselves comfortable; I do, anyway. Sauna much hotter than this!”

  “I guess so...” Sauna? She would look spectacular in a sauna...

  He tried to relax and control the aeroplane more smoothly.

  “That much better! You are now enjoying the flight and the view.”

  “Oh, yeah!” He was, but which view did she mean? He glanced at her. She looked up from his straining crotch and smiled. “I enjoy the view too!”

  Bugger their respective views, he had to fly this aircraft and keep a Lookout! Then FREDA again: Fuel, Radio, Engine, Direction, Altimeter. It was hard in this heat and with other things on his mind. How long to the next waypoint? Fifteen minutes. His shirt was dripping with perspiration.

  “You are doing so well, Erik. I make you more comfortable.” She loosened his shoulder harness and pulled his shirt out from under the quick-release. “Now I fly while you get comfortable yourself. I have control.”

  “You have control,” he responded, relinquishing the stick and rudder to her. Annoyingly, the aircraft steadied as if it were on autopilot. He got his almost dripping shirt right off, stowed it and prepared to take over again.

  She glanced across at him and flicked
her steel-blue eyes down again. “Are you quite sure you are comfortable?”

  He followed her gaze. He certainly was not!

  “It is OK. You are wearing shorts underneath, ja?”

  He was wearing boxers, ja. With a shrug, and keeping his feet well clear of the rudder pedals, he unclipped his knee-board, passed it to Sonja, and pulled off his trousers. They slipped easily over the heels of his flying trainers.

  “Ah, that’s better, Sonja; thank you.” Without top clothes the heat was no problem. This was pleasant. His huge erection (well maintained by the slightly scratchy push of her left bra cup against his right arm) was evident, but not obscene while covered by his boxers. It was still not clear if the woman beside him was just very relaxed about such things or wanted to proceed further – and there were clearly limits, in this small cockpit with an aircraft demanding to be properly flown.

  “Now I get my trousers off too. You have control.”

  “I have control.” But he watched as she uncovered her long legs and reached forward to grab and stow the trousers.

  “You keep a good lookout – and stay on course!”

  Oops, he was more than ten degrees off already! He scanned the sky as he corrected. Nothing – oh, just that big high-wing job over to the left on a similar height and heading. Well clear, and being on his port side, the other aircraft’s responsibility to stay clear.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him.” He pointed out the traffic.

  “Very good. Now do those FREDA checks.”

  “I just did, Sonja.”

  “Do them again.”

  He did, aware that she was wriggling a little.

  Finally he could spare a glance across at her. Her creamy thighs still stretched out beautifully from black knickers... But that scratchy breast pressing against his arm, now felt silky smooth. The bra had gone. Her left nipple nodded amiably over his boxers as its supporting breast bobbed in the light turbulence.

  She had crossed the line. This was now a definite come-on – and Tanya was waiting for him back at Greenfield!

  Her other breast performing its own casual lookout on the right side of the bubble canopy reminded him of his duties. He glanced rapidly left to check on that other aircraft. Still well clear.

  “That traffic remains well clear. And we have right of way.”

  “Ja. I have control.”

  “You have control.”

  “You are doing very well with me distracting you, Erik. Relax a bit while I fly. Can you please scratch my back? I have the little itch where my brassiere strap was cutting in. I hope you didn’t mind me taking it off.”

  “Of course not …”

  She leaned forward and he dutifully scratched her offered back. There were marks left by the heavy-duty garment. It was probably quite a relief for her to shed it. But surely that was not the only reason? Her unfettered boobs looked absolutely delicious …

  Before he knew it, he’d reached around her and taken firm support of each smooth, cool breast. He watched her eyes close momentarily, and heard her deep sigh on the intercom. He felt the delicious weight and softness of her tits; he fondled her nipples until they stood proud. He simply couldn’t resist her.

  Her left hand strayed across to the tip of the pole under his taut boxers. It then slipped under the waistband and had him out and upstanding in the cockpit.

  “You have control, Erik.”

  “Ah, I have control, Sonja!” He let go of only one breast as he took the control stick with his throttle hand. With her own hands full, Sonja didn’t seem to notice the irregularity.

  Her mouth was down upon him in a heartbeat. The warm wetness of it enveloped his cock. He could feel her tongue licking around the head and then the shaft as she took him in deeper. He felt guilty about Tanya. He tried to concentrate on his flying. He looked around. That other aircraft … Where was it now? He looked higher.

  Shit! It was close. Not dangerously so, but the pilot on high could probably see the topless inhabitants of the bubble cockpit below, the woman performing fellatio in all her glory.

  “I have control!”

  “You have control!” he relinquished as Sonja smoothly made a safe-distancing manoeuvre, turning right and down. “He should have kept clear of us, being on our port side …”

  ‘Ja – I think he was peeping at us! He is clear now?’

  ‘He’s changed course to the left, he’s dropping away, accelerating ahead … Well clear now.’

  ‘So. You can put your hands, back where they were on my body – it is nice while I fly … Mmmmm! What shall we do now? You like a sauna and a cup of tea?”

  “Well, er, yes, but …”

  “Give me the track from our present position to here.” She marked the map with her chinagraph and passed it to him. He measured the angle with his square protractor.

  “125 degrees magnetic.”

  She rolled onto that heading, allowing for drift, looking carefully around as she did so. “You can hold me again.”

  While he handled her tits, she pressed the radio ‘tit’:

  “Greenfield Radio this is ah, Alpha Zulu.”

  “Alpha Zulu, pass your message.”

  “Change of flight plan. Ah, now landing out at Shepherd’s Farm. Will, ah, re-file return by phone later.”

  “Alpha Zulu, all copied. Thanks Sonja! Greenfield out.”

  Tanya would have heard all that while waiting in the office. He wondered if she’d notice the slightly gasping transmission as Sonja was being fondled … He would text his new girlfriend a reassuring message once they landed out.

  Twenty minutes later, Sonja’s landing on the private grass strip was superb. Still cradling her breasts, he hardly felt any increase in their weight on touchdown, but they both surged forward, bouncing, during the necessary hard braking on the short rollout.

  “Do you know the owner here, Sonja?”

  “Ja, my husband.”

  His erection, much softened during the approach over pylons and the short-field landing, disappeared. But, presumably, hubby was out.

  “Husband! I didn’t know …”

  “He is German. That is his Pilatus,” she pointed as they taxied up to the open barn. It was a big PC-6 with a single turboprop, the same aircraft that had been watching them! And probably the same one he’d seen ‘Meat Bombing’ – dropping parachutists, over Greenfield. Just about the biggest fixed-wing aircraft you could get into this strip, he thought. It looked bloody enormous close-up on the ground, with its 600-odd horse power turbine engine – much bigger than seen air-to-air just recently. Shit! He hoped her husband wasn’t equally big.

  “Why didn’t you say that it was your husband who saw us?”

  “There is another Pilatus in the area, and I didn’t get the registration – did you?”

  “No.”

  “Even so, it may not have been him flying; he often rents it out.” It didn’t appear to give her much concern.

  The propeller shuddered to a stop and Sonja lifted the cockpit bubble high in the cooler summer air. Erik found he was still supporting the German Pilatus pilot’s wife’s bare tits out in the open. He looked across and saw the heat-haze rippling above the turbine exhaust. Nice place – he was going to die here …

  “We now run to the sauna!” Wearing just her knickers, she climbed out of the cockpit and loped off towards the house, breasts bouncing wildly in all directions. She could knock herself out, running like that, he thought. He adjusted his boxers and trotted after her, wondering if he should really be running in the opposite direction, or even hijacking the unsecured Robin.

  He followed her to the small separate building he took to be the sauna.

  “Sonja?”

  “Ja, Erik?

  The blast of hot air hit him as she opened the door. “Where is your... Oh!”

  “Erik, I would like you to meet my husband, Otto.”

  Crikey – he was big, even sitting down. “Ah... Hello, Otto.”

  “Hi Erik, gut to mee
t you. Get zoes boxers off and make yourself comfortable.” He threw a small towel into Erik’s lap. “Do you like much steam?”

  “Ah, not for the moment, thanks.”

  “My Swedish wife – she is nuts about the sauna. I have to build this for her!”

  Sonja kept her black knickers on as she sat smiling beside her towel-clad husband.

  Erik soon got over his surprise and did make himself comfortable. It wasn’t too hot – a comfortable dry heat. He wasn’t quite sure of the arrangements yet, but apparently Sonja had already warned Otto that she might be dropping in with a student for a sauna, so it seemed he was probably under no immediate threat of dismemberment by the blond Teutonic giant – who may, or may not have seen them in flagrante delicto.

  Then things changed.

  “Otto, I have been naughty.”

  “What have you done, mein liebling?”

  “I have been teasing Erik when we were flying together.”

  Erik started to sweat much more. What the hell was she up to?

  “Then you must show me now how you have been teasing poor Erik.”

  Sonja ambled across to where Erik was sprawled, and swung her breasts only inches above his face.

  “And what did you do, Erik?”

  “Ah, well... Ah, I didn’t do very much at all … I …”

  “I hope you touched her just a little bit. My wife is very beautiful – any man would do this – it’s OK.”

  “Well, yes, I did actually, just a bit.”

  “Show me.”

  Very carefully, Erik reached out and touched her left breast with his right hand, aware of a possible husband explosion at any moment. It was supposed to be the gentlest of contacts, but Sonja pushed the ample boob into the palm, and somehow his hand ended up groping her lower breast and gripping around her upstanding nipple.

  “Maybe you use both the hands on both the breasts. You must show me – it is OK.”

  In for a penny ... thought Erik. Clearly the husband/wife relationship here was a trifle exotic, to say the least. Now he fondled Sonja from the front as she leant over him, rather than behind while she was flying – an even more inviting prospect with her lovely nipples magnetically attracting his mouth. He soon found himself kissing and sucking them – more than he had been able to do when airborne.