She had that thing. That thing where she always looked pissed off. It took a long time to figure out that she wasn’t always mad, just most of the time.
She invited me over to brainstorm. She had an art project she was working on, but we never seemed to get to talking about it. Instead, we sat on her bed and listened to music, talked about life, just handing out.
I knew her in black, but that day she was in a blue summer dress with little white flowers. I knew her in red lipstick, but that day in her room she was in lip gloss. I knew her in stockings and garters, but that day she was in navy blue knee-high socks, looking more bratty than bitchy. I should have known what she was up to.
Her eyes weren’t painted dark the way I was used to, but she had those little wings on the corners like she always did. It seemed to amplify her pouting look.
Her body was just a little thick all over. There was some baby fat everywhere, even though she was far from college. God, she was adorable. I couldn’t say that to her, because she seemed to want to be glamorous and elegant, and she certainly could be those things, but in my eyes, she was more adorable than anything else. That day she seemed to give in to that fact. I wondered how purposeful it was.
In the cool spring afternoon, I felt like a creep for eyeing her the way I did. The curves of her. Her freckles. The way the afternoon sunset off the highlights in her hair and made her skin silky. The way the swell of her smallish breasts showed through the fabric of her dress, how I could just barely make out the shape of her nipples, but I couldn’t see them. A mystery of lust. When she stretched and lounged on the bed, so close to me but never touching, it drove me crazy. The light cotton clinging to her. The bit of exposed thigh between the dress and her socks. The way her socks cut into her thick thighs a little.
Maybe there were signs I was missing. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Sometimes people just want to be friends. It’s not all about sex and kink.
She looked at me over her thick lashes and rolled her eyes as I made small talk. She turned over on her belly and looked up at me, pursing her glossy lips.
As I watched her, she slowly pulled her dress up. The expanse of her thighs got longer, then she turned a little and exposed her naked hip. There was something almost shocking in that naked space near her hip bone where her panties should have been.
“So, you gonna hit me or what?” she said and cracked her bubblegum.
I took a deep breath and tried to look like I was expecting it. I pulled her by one long socked leg, across the bed.
She squirmed on my lap, looking annoyed, huffing and puffing as I positioned her the way I wanted her.
I was glad she asked for it. It made the fight so much more delicious. It made her brattiness become something I could enjoy instead of making me constantly question. It let me be mean.
Her dress was soft and light and it rode up her legs as she wrestled against me. I pulled it up more and saw her bare ass.
She looked at her over her shoulder and a smile flickered across her lips. I was an idiot for not knowing. She was there, naked under her slip of a dress, just waiting for me to make my move the whole time.
“You gonna look at it or you gonna do something?” she said, but her courage was marred a little by something else.
I had one of her wrists in my hand. I tightened my grip. I twisted her arm behind her back and held it there as she let out a dramatic “ouch.”
That first smack. It’s a funny thing, if a spank doesn’t land right it doesn’t make the right noise and there is some part of the satisfaction that is erased. It’s like baseball. When you connect with a pitch the bat on the ball just sounds right, it makes a clean pop. Anything less leaves things feeling annoyingly unfinished.
She turned suddenly and my first slap on her ass wasn’t perfect. I held her down harder and aimed carefully and was rewarded with a bright, loud smack that echoed in her bedroom. Then it was the opening volley, like the opening moves of a chess game, seeing what she could take, how much she could give me.
She settled down as I spanked her, stopped moving around so much and closed her eyes, silently taking it. Apparently, she could take a lot. I stretched a little, flexing my arm, ready to hurt her.
My next hit made her shift a little, her eyes open. I focused on one spot on her big ass and spanked that spot over and over until she squirmed.
Her body was hot, I repositioned her and my hand was on her thigh. She was soft and taut at the same time. She twisted out of my grip and laughed once, then yelped as I grabbed her hard and put her on her back. I straddled her thighs and her one of her wrists. She scowled up at me and I took her hair in my other hand and pulled. She winced and hissed at me.
“You think you’re just getting your ass spanked? I said as she tried to escape.
Her pout twisted into a smile.
“Yeah, that’s all,” she said in a mocking tone.
“I can think of lots of other ways to use you,” I said holding her head still by tightening my grip o. Her hair.
“You want to see my tits. I know you’ve been looking at them all day,” she said with another little laugh.
I was on top of her, but she knew she had the power. I tried to think. I let go of her hand and hair.
“True,” I said with a huff, getting off of her and standing up next to the bed.
She looked at her over her thick lashes and stuck out her bottom lip. She pulled at her dress, exposing a little more cleavage.
“Is this what you want?” She asked l sweetly.
I growled and knelt on the bed reaching for her. She demurred, giggling and turning around, sticking her ass back up in the air.
“I said you could spank me. That’s all.”
I fumed for a moment, aware of her game, shaking my head as a groan started deep in my belly. That split peach between her legs. Pretty little lurid pink lips that flared out a little. I could see she was wet. I could smell her. My cock ached.
“Fine, you want to be a tease?” I said, grabbing her hips.
She laughed, “oh what are you gonna do? Maybe hit me for real this time?”
I took her hair in my hand again and starting with my hand high in the air, slapped her ass as hard as I could. Big solid slaps leaving red marks of all my fingers on her skin every time.
She grunted every time, biting her lip, eyes rolling back, as I went on and on.
“Okay, okay, okay!” she finally said with a laugh, crawling away from me.
As she rubbed her reddened bottom, I sat back and let her escape. She earned a little reprieve.
“I knew you were mean, but geez,” she said looked over her shoulder at me.
“Aw, poor girl, I’m sorry,” I said mockingly.
She pouted and huffed, crawling to the other end of the bed.
“You should be. You made me a big mess,” she said with her voice softening.
“Oh?” I asked, laughing a little, suddenly once again overcome by her charms.
She sat up and spread her legs. Her hair was a mess, falling over her pretty face. I could see her lips though, as she bit her bottom one.
She slowly pulled her dress up her legs as my eyes followed her hands. She showed me her thighs, then the soft little triangle of dark hair between her legs.
Then she spread her legs even wider, spread herself wider, and rubbed, letting out a low moan.
“See, I’m a mess now. Because you were so mean. A wet mess of a girl,” she said in almost a whisper.
I was completely under her spell then. Watching her wet fingers move as she let out little whines and whimpers.
“Will you clean it up?” She asked sweetly.
She tugged at the top of her dress.
“I can show you what you want to see,” she offered.
I wanted to say something charming, something mean, something to take control, but I just nodded. Yes. Yes, anything.
She kept rubbing as her cleavage was exposed and then finally the two dark circles of her nipples appeared. I let out a groan.
Fuck, she was pretty.
“Lay back for me,” she said, getting up on her knees.
I laid back immediately. I started to get an idea of what she was going to do and it started a whole new fire inside of me. Was she going to sit on my face? I couldn’t imagine anything better than being between her thick thighs. My brain felt like it was swelling as I imagined it.
She crawled over to me and held her dress up and straddled my chest.
“What are we doing now?” I croaked, trying to stay in control, but losing quickly.
“You’re cleaning up your mess,” she said, cutting her eyes as she looked down at me.
She pushed me down on the bed and climbed over my head, taking my hair in her hands, pushing herself down on me.
Her pussy was over my face. I saw it perfectly for a moment, all pink and perfect. She moved down onto me. My world becoming the dappled light that streamed in through her summer dress and the smell of her and the slick smoothness of her against my mouth.
She guided me by my hair. She pointed my mouth and cooed and moaned when I hit the right spots, got the right tempo. She rubbed herself back and forth against my tongue. She clenched her thighs when I sucked on her clit.
She let go of my hair, but only for a minute. Just long enough to pull at my arms and put my hands on her breasts. She squeezed my hand and I squeezed her breasts obediently.
“Harder,” she whispered between whimpers.
Her moans became rhythmic, her hands in my hair tighten, she whispered like a mantra “make me come. Make me come,” over and over.
God, it was all I wanted to do.
I tried to keep all of her instructions in my head at once. Squeezing her breasts hard but not too hard. Sucking her clit while licking at the same time. Letting her ride my mouth. Dipping my tongue into the heavenly salty wetness of her when she pushed herself down on me.
Then her moans when up an octave. Short little yelps of need. Her hands were painfully tight on my hair. The feel of her nipples against the palm of my hands. The taste of her. Jesus, the taste of her.
Then she was still, pushing me away, gasping for air.
I sat up, making sure she was okay, and she grabbed me by the collar and kissed me.
It was the first time we’d kissed. I didn’t even imagine we would, but there it was, her soft lips on mine, the taste of her between us.
It was crazy to think a kiss could be more intimate than the rest, but somehow it changed things. We fell into the kiss. It felt like it started as some pent-up need after her orgasm, some last connection, but then we drifted down to the bed together and wrapped our arms around each other and just made out, gloriously.
Then I was sighing and staring at the ceiling and just swimming in the memory of what happened.
She burrowed into my side, pulling my arm and putting it around her.
We stayed like that for a while catching our breath. When she finally sat up and stretched she looked down at me and smiled like a Cheshire Cat.
“That was pretty good, thanks.”
I laughed and tried to think of something witty, but I was drunk on her pussy.
She unzipped her dress and pulled it off, throwing it across the room, then she stretched and looked like the most glorious thing I’d ever seen.
She straddled me and looked down at me seriously.
“I’m going to take a shower, then we can get lunch or something. You were good though. You keep it up next time I might even fuck you,” she said, a cruel smile on her glossy lips.
Then I watched her ass as she walked to the bathroom and I whined to myself like a hungry dog.