I got home early one afternoon, there was a sound, a rhythmic thump, almost like someone was playing a game in the bedroom. My first thought was the cat was doing something weird, funny, or cute, so I tried to be quiet. As I made my way upstairs to our bedroom, I noticed the door was ajar, and the soft, muffled sound grew clearer. It was a steady, rhythmic smack. Curiosity piqued, I tiptoed closer, not wanting to disturb the cat. But when I reached the door, I realized the smacking was definitely not coming from our cat. It was a sound I had heard before, but not exactly like this, and certainly not from Becky. Becky stood in the middle of the room, naked, with a reddened bottom, with my favorite ping pong paddle in her hand. Her eyes were closed and a look of intense concentration on her face.
Becky's hair was wet, plastered to her skin from a recent shower. The damp towel she had wrapped around herself was now discarded on the bed. Her pink ass still glistened with a light sheen of water, and the scent of her freshly washed body filled the room. She brought the paddle down on her cheek again, a smack that echoed in the room. The sound of the paddle on bare ass, wet and firm, followed by a small hop and a guttural moan that sent a shiver down my spine. I had never seen her do this before, and she was so...vocal. The next smack was to her thigh, a little softer, but no less impactful. Her thigh quivered with the sting, and she let out a sound that was somewhere between a yelp and a sigh of satisfaction. I so wished I could record this moment to listen to it later, her moans and squeaks, the smack of the paddle, the symphony of her self-inflicted pleasure.
The rhythm grew faster as Becky's breathing grew heavier. She had always told me she liked it when I spanked her by hand, but her paddling was so much harder than I ever had.. It was fascinating and a little intimidating. I felt a twinge that I had not gone far enough, but it was quickly replaced by admiration for her ability to enjoy such spanking. I had always been careful, mindful of her limits, but here she was, pushing past them with an intensity I had never seen.
Becky did one more quick flurry of smacks, alternating between her cheeks and thigh, building up to a crescendo of moans and sighs. She opened her eyes, and the moment she saw me, a flash of embarrassment crossed her face. Her hand froze mid-air, the paddle hovering over her reddened ass. For a second, we just stared at each other, the silence thick with anticipation. Then she took a deep breath, and her face softened into a smirk. She let out a shaky laugh. "Well," she said, trying to play it cool, "you're just in time for lunch."
Fun story to read, made me smile. It reminded me of an old friend of mine from the 90's. She has passed now, but it was an amazing friendship. Thanks Bogey
ReplyDeleteAll credit goes to reader Al Gore
DeleteI shouldn't think that lunch was the first thing on his mind. But possibly taking possession of the the bat and carrying on what Becky was doing to herself would make a good first course, with something else entirely for dessert.
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