#209) The Flirt

#209) The Flirt

They scheduled my ten year college graduation reunion recently. I wasn’t going to attend until Stacy phoned me. She was my best friend back then, and still lives in that college town. It was so fun talking to her long-distance, I wanted to continue our conversations late into the night. The clincher was when she said planned to throw a slumber party.
“Please come, bestie!” she pleaded. “Stay right here with me, several friends are. It’ll be a blast!”
Stacy was gorgeous; she and some of her friends were into competing in beauty pageants back then. It wasn’t my thing, we had other interests in common. But I wanted to meet some of these women now. Hell, I wanted to see if any of these cuties shared my same bi-curiosities.
I “friended” Stacy on Facebook, then looked at all her other friends there, particularly the ones who were coming to the reunion. One in particular caught my eye, one who openly stated in her bio that she was bi-sexual and proud of it, a flirtatious brunette named Megan. I’ll cut straight to the chase. I came to the reunion, I saw the many girls who were staying in Stacy’s palatial home with me, I was super attracted to Megan, and wanted to conquer her. Would she be my first lesbian conquest? Would there be other lesbian, bi, queer women there at Stacy’s, or at the reunion in general?
To say that Megan was flirtatious was like saying that the Pope was Catholic. Megan epitomized being a flirt. She used her pretty eyes to maximum effect, she made off-hand little remarks with double-entendre in her cute Southern accent, most of all, she had a banging little body and she knew how to use it.
To make a long story short, we were all gathered in Stacy’s greatroom with sleeping bags laid out on the floor from wall to wall to accommodate the twelve of us. We changed into our jammies after dinner. Some women wore just a t-shirt and panties. I wore a pair of dropseat flannel pajamas that got lots of comments. Megan wore a fire engine red nightie that was so sexy, I was salivating (and wet elsewhere, too). Someone stated that Megan looked hot and was trolling for compliments. I thought to myself that I was hooked, absolutely smitten by her charms.
“What? This little ole thing?” Megan drawled. She took hold of the elastic waistband to the panties and pulled them down, mooning us all. I became a lunatic at the sight of her full moon of an ass. I wanted to howl like a she-wolf at the mesmerizing sight of it.
Instead I retorted, “Are you giving us a glimpse of your ass because you need it spanked?”
Megan shot back, “Are you volunteering for the task?”
I gulped down my inhibitions. “Yes. I’d love to spank your perfect ass the color of your negligee, and then worship it the rest of the night…”
Suddenly it got silent. Megan smiled back at me. “Do you think you can wrestle me over your knee and hold me there, in order to complete the task? I’m pretty strong…”
“I am, too,” I replied, “and motivated.” I didn’t add that I’d wrestled in high school and had three brothers who I had to keep from picking on me as we grew up.
All at once the greatroom was transformed to a schoolyard playground with all the girls forming a circle around Megan and me, chanting “fight, fight” in unison. Stacy stepped into the circle to admonish, “No, ladies! No fists are to be thrown.” People assumed that she wanted it to stop, maybe afraid of insurance liability, until she picked up the chant with, “Wrestle, wrestle, wrestle…” All around her joined in. Megan lunged at me. I dove down and pulled the legs out from under her; a standard wrestling take-down. Then I jumped on her back to hold her down. Her pert ass was right there. I gave it a good swat. Megan hollered and redoubled her efforts to squirm free. But I was in control on top of her using all my weight to advantage, my big bum as ballast, with one of her arms twisted behind her back. She was pinned. I reached out and gave her bottom another spank. The crowd of women “ooh”ed and “aah”ed.
“What do you think, ladies? Should her panties stay up or come down?” I yelled over the din.
“Down, down, down…” they all chanted.
Megan made it look like she was struggling, but she wasn’t really trying to break free. I wrestled her little garment down off her cheeks to mid-thigh, exposing two handprints on her fair-complected tushy. I added eight more playful but stinging swats to those marks.
“Had enough?” I asked Megan in her adorable ear.
“You win,” she returned, a smile now on her face.
We both got to our feet. Stacy held my right arm high above my head.
“The winner and new champ!” she proclaimed to cheers from the crowd.
I quieted the throng by holding both hands up.
“I vowed to spank her ass,” I said, “and then worship it…” I dropped to my knees and lovingly kissed each cheek that I’d just reddened. Megan looked back at me with unadulterated lust in her eyes.
“Get a room!” one of Stacy’s friends called out.
Stacy looked at the two of us. “Mine is available…” I looked up at Megan, she looked back at me, on my knees, the victor yet clearly besotted. Stacy chimed in with, “Up the stairs, first door on the right. And lock the door, these girls are crazy…”
To their cheers, we took hands and walked toward Stacy’s bedroom.
Behind the locked door, I suddenly became dumbstruck by Megan’s beauty. She took the lead.
“You spank well,” she smiled, rubbing her bottom.
“I’ve had some experience,” I shyly demurred.
“Taking as well as giving?” Megan returned.
I unbuttoned the flap at the back of my pj’s. “Yes, ma’am!”
She proved that she, too, was talented at administering a sound spanking. I spent the rest of the night worshiping an ass worthy of the accolades, licking and fingering her holes as she did mine. We didn’t get much sleep. We did exchange phone numbers, with the promise to stay in touch. We’ll see who reaches out to whom first, the flirt or the fanny worshiper.

2 responses to “#209) The Flirt”

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