Morgan's birthday spankings.

She was perfectly relaxed and enjoying it. Prone on the futon, her breathing was just slightly staccato as my lubricated index finger very slowly penetrated her to the full and then slowly withdrew, pumping over and over and over again. I comfortably sat on the floor. I smiled to myself as I felt her sphincter grip me, and languished in the intimacy of the moment. As I casually probed her in the ass, I was reminded of childhood games of Doctor with my babysitter, those first moments in my not-so-total innocence when I discovered a passion for behinds, for lowering a girl's panties, and for the taking control of them as a partner lay on her stomach before me. I caressed Morgan's long, dark hair as my finger disappeared downward into her body.

"Hi. Well that was indeed an articulate and intriguing posting," she had emailed. Several days earlier, I had placed a Craigslist ad seeking a spanking partner and Morgan had pleasantly responded. "With my curiousity piqued and my poor neglected bottom tingling, I am taking a chance here and responding to you. I truly enjoy a proper over-the-knee spanking. It's my kink, what can I say."

"You can say, 'Please, Sir,'" was part of my reply. She liked that.

Morgan is a lovely, trim, intelligent, late30s brunette with the most charming freckles and sultry green eyes. She's both amusingly coy and passionately hungry. She possesses a balance between elegance and rawness that both intrigues me and keeps me guessing. She's new to dominant/submissive play, having had only one major partner in that territory that I know of, but that partner was not her spouse. Morgan is being a little extracurricular with her pleasures, and I'm respecting her choices as well as her need for discretion. She introduced me to a bohemian little bistro in my area that serves excellent tea. I introduced her to her g-spot.

My ad, originally placed before things with Shayne had begun to rekindle, had specified that I wasn't looking for sex. I wanted it clear that my priority was to find an intelligent, self-aware, sexually-sophisiticated bottom partner with whom I could indulge my Topspace and OTK fantasies. But it wasn't long before Morgan's emails elicited more from me.

"There's nothing quite like having made a bottom putty in my hands after giving her a sound spanking," I shared with her, "and watching her beet-red ass slink to the floor so she might service me and demonstrate her appreciation for having received her necessary correction."

"I happen to be a big fan of cocksucking," she replied. "I'm thinking some very salacious things... imagining the taste and feel of your cock for one..."

We met in the bistro for fruity sandwiches and Earl Grey. She was cautious when we spoke on the phone the day before, reminding us both that we might not clik after all, and that either one of us might not be attracted. As I strolled into the bistro and saw her smiling to me from her table, I sensed from her expression that she did not dislike what she saw. I liked her smile, and the hippie way her straight, dark hair flowed across her shoulders.

"Please share with me some of the fantasies that you have about being spanked," I had emailed.

"I fantasize being ordered to bend over and the various ways a proper spanking can be metered out, though not necessarily because I've 'misbehaved.' I like the idea of being taken over a man's knee and his firm hands kneading my flesh and various degrees of spanking. It's a pain/pleasure thing. I love the afterglow as well. The sensation lasts hours later."

Those sensations began in my parlor when she leaned in close for a kiss. She relaxed in my arms, her eyes half-closed, her breathing rapid as she held me and parted her mouth open passionately. I bent down, raised her shirt a little, and bit her tummy. I showed her around my place and we found ourselves in the den, enjoying my snake. We relaxed on the futon, and from our kisses, I soon slithered an arm around her and tugged her across my lap. The moment had come.

We were breathless, me feeling her weight on my thighs and knees, she still dressed in her black top and snug bluejeans. Her bottom was nicely shaped and perfectly framed in denim, showing strong lines and a sensual delve between her thighs. I paused to enjoy the moment, firmly wrapped my left arm around her waist, and made the first strike with my other hand. She wiggled as strikes followed, and squirmed when I would pause to simply squeeze her cheeks and caress her covered ass. It was fun, and my heart was beating faster. Reaching between her thighs to cup her mound, I could feel her warmth and excitement through her pants.

I tugged her by the belt and reached under her to undo it, the button, and the zipper to her jeans. I tugged them down over her thighs, revealing her pert behind covered in sheer black panties with cute black polkadots. She picked those undies especially for me, she said. How sweet. Sweeter still was my view when these were lowered as well, and the spanking continued as I throughly enjoyed the sight and feel of her delicious ass. Morgan's quiet gasps enriched me, reminding me of why spanking a partner turns me on, and her ass was gradually reddening darker and darker as I indulged myself at her tender expense. Her skin rippled just slightly, the occasional view of her winking rosebud heated me, but as she squirmed more and more readily, my cock hardened in my jeans and strained agonizingly.

I stood, peeling her pants and panties off. Kneeling on the floor beside her, I grasped her bottom in my hands and parted her open, revealing all of her secrets to me. She responded coyly, her eyes a little wider, just shameful enough to spur me on in possessing consensual control of her form. She went limp and gasped as she felt my tongue between her thighs and sliding deeper to probe and explore her.

Her ass was raised sexily in the air as I knelt above and behind her, gently feasting on her, pressing her lovely ass to my face, and tickling her rosebud with my tongue. This, I learned, was a first for her, but not the only one she would have that afternoon.

Morgan was panting and sitting upright as I sat on the floor before her, soaking my hands with Astroglide. She seemed nonplussed at my wanting to use lubricant at all.

"If I'm going to do to you what I'm going to do to you without this," I assured her, "I'm going to hurt you." She blinked and nodded. I smiled as I began to enjoy this privilege.

It's like being the man to take a lover's virginity. It's a privilege, sometimes an honour, and something that will always be remembered. As a man, I'm especially touched when I realize that I'm about to enter uncharted territory with a lover, and most especially when it's about a part of her own body that life hasn't given her previous opportunity to explore. Few other things could be so intimate.

I looked into Morgan's eyes as my dripping fingers began to part her orchid open. She had the cutest little dark racing stripe, barely wider than a lock of hair, her pussy otherwise completely bare and punctuated with a dark, adorable rose-bullet anus. Biting my lower lip in appreciation, I slowly entered her and gradually twisted first one, and then two, fingers inside her depths. Morgan panted and gasped, crying out when I'd surprise her with a few licks to her tiny button, but when I started to curl my fingers upward she completely melted before me.

Morgan's g-spot felt lovely against my fingertips, spongy and firm, and I held my hand in place as she got used to the sensation. Slow curling of my fingers followed, spreading them and closing them, wiggling them and stroking them, probing them and pumping them inside her tight and wet tunnel. Her eyes screwed tightly closed and she contained her screams as her chest heaved in her deep pants and gasps. I marveled at her sensual yielding, this woman who had been trying so hard to maintain some composure so far during our encounter. I twisted and pumped my fingers inside her as she rode the waves and sailed on currents she had not known before. She came in my hands and was in languid ruin when I finally withdrew from her quivering pussy.

We took a break. We talked. She lay along the length of the futon, nude before me as I sat, still dressed, on the floor. Her pretty ass was directly in front of me, and soon I was caressing and giving it light spanks again. Yet my fingers were still soaked with lube and her cum, and so what to do next only seemed obvious.

In the most relaxed, casual way, I touched her anus with a fingertip and slowly pressed to wiggle it there in slow circles. She rested her head on her hands and yielded to my touch, originally (and unecessarily) self-conscious about herself. Her eyes closed, her mouth parted, just as I began to feel her sphincter wink open and clutch the very tip of my index finger. Her warmth and the strength of her muscle moved me to probe further, and soon I was sliding into her tightness.

Very gradually, very slowly, but with more lube and eventually faster and faster, I soon had three fingers halfway inside her bum and was fucking her firmly with them pressed together in a cone. I twisted them and pumped them into her ass as she gasped and squealed before me now, but only for a brief while before withdrawing two of them and then slowing down once more.

"Well," she laughed after I withdrew two fingers, "I can safely say that never before have I been fucked in the ass like that!"

Morgan's body was relaxed enough, lubed enough, and had been opened enough, that my index finger alone was easily sliding fully deep into her now, and I enjoyed this little pleasure for some time. Her asshole felt heavenly.

Another break, and then we found ourselves in the bedroom. It was time I undressed, and still my attention was riveted to her bum. Things were stop-and-go for a while as we learned one another, and soon it became apparent to me that Morgan simply loves to be taken, no muss no fuss, no discourse no idle chitchat. She enjoyed my thickness in her mouth, and I enjoyed raising her ass in the air as I briefly fucked her there. But soon I had other ideas.

There's only one time when its perfectly reasonable to ask a woman her age.

"You told me it's going to be your birthday soon. How old are you going to be?" I asked.

She looked at the cieling and tried to stifle a laugh. "Um... thirty-two," she lied. I looked at her. She smirked.

"Um... twenty-seven?"

I looked harder.

She looked down and demurely whispered. "Forty."

I smiled wide as I yanked her across my lap again. I locked her ankles in a pair of leather restraints. It was time for Morgan's birthday spankings, and she squirmed petulantly as I held her fast in the crook of my right arm. Her lovely, bare ass was framed just under my shoulder, and my left hand rained smack after smack after smack as I counted off the previous years. Yet, unfortunately for Morgan, this was a moment when my gradeschool education failed me (seventeen does come after thirty-one, right?), so the poor, crying, whimpering dear likely received forty strikes with plenty of accrued interest.

She laughed when I took and showed her pictures. We relaxed for a while, and soon it was time for her to go. I've made a new friend.

Her spouse, the man who does not indulge Morgan in her wanton desire to be taken and spanked, forgot her birthday.



images George Nick, personal collection