#432) Sultry Sunday

I had the day all planned out in my head. When my lover awoke, I had a quote I wanted to share with him. Georgette Ann said, “I like my Sundays the way I like kisses – unhurried, lingering, full of possibility…” I’d whisper this to Rick, then close my eyes and kiss him, say with that kiss everything on my mind and in my heart, how I wanted our kiss to evolve into a playful spanking, where Rick would wrestle me down and slap my butt just hard enough and long enough to hurt. How the spanking would evolve to love-making, slow, sensual, missionary sex of meaningful looks and deep thrusts. How this fairytale fuck would evolve into the way we express our kinky selves best, with Rick buttering my buns and plunging himself into me back there, back there where I shouldn’t be fucked, but love to be, back there where it’s sinfully dirty and completely forbidden and where I long to be taken, possessed, used hard, left very sore and a little sorry, but oh so fulfilled. My pussy was already wet and my butt hole tingly in anticipation. I was thinking about getting up out of bed to get dressed in some lingerie, then stand leaning against the bedroom door, or bent over the dresser, looking sultry and secretive as all fuck, just to prolong the seduction while he unwrapped his gift. When he was done devouring me, I’d let him nap while I fixed us both breakfast, and then maybe we’d go to the art fair in the park before it rained, or maybe get caught in the rain, get drenched in the deluge and frolic in the mudpuddles. We could come home and shower to stave off the chill, and make love in the stall…
But Ricky wakes up before I can put any of my plan into action. I’m so surprised by the way he looks at me hungrily that I forget to quote my lines, and just mumble, “Good morning, handsome.”
He pulls me to him, his hands cupping my tits then moving down to seize my ass. He holds me there with both of his large hands, kneading the flesh like bread dough. This never fails but to get a rise out of him, and he’s kissing me wantonly, and parting me obscenely. It’s not “unhurried and lingering,” it’s raw and needful. I lift my leg to open myself to his desires, to his penetration, like a common bitch in heat instead of the ethereal poetess I’d envisioned. But even this is thwarted.
“No!” he interrupts. “You have to earn the right to enjoy my cock inside you… I want to punish you before pleasuring you… Go get me the riding crop… Quick, bring it back to me here…!” and he sends me on my way with a swift swat.
Well, this isn’t what I planned for the day… I think to myself, as I sprint to obey. Then something else interrupts me. “Honey, may I please go to the bathroom first? I really need to tinkle!”
“Be quick about it,” he growls.
I snag not only the riding crop from the closet, but some other stuff, too, and run the detour into the bathroom. While I pee, I pull on my pair of riding boots by using the pulls. Rick sees me naked all the time, I like to add a little something extra during playtime. It’s like adding that dash of Tabasco sauce to the scrambled eggs before serving; we need a little extra spice, that’s why we’re kinky. Then, I liberally lubricate my rectum with lube, just in case. I run back to him in the bedroom.
“Thank you, sir, I needed that,” I say, offering the crop out to him with eyes downcast. Rick smiles to see the adornment of the knee-high black Dahner boots. He smiles even broader when I bend over deeply and reveal my prepared anus. “I really had to pee! I just did some other stuff while I was in there…”
“I see that,” he chortles. “Are you saying that you’d like an ass-fucking when your whipping is over?”
“I just like to be prepared, sir,” I answer. “It’s the girl scout in me still…”
“Ummm, there’s a nice mental image… Maybe we ought to get you a girl scout outfit to go along with your schoolgirl outfit… Make you earn some merit badges,” Rick mumbles as he taps my proffered bottom with the crop.
I my opinion, the riding crop is just as severe an implement as the cane, especially if it’s a long, leather-braided one like ours. You’re getting a stripe with the rod part, but also feeling that slapper at the end. Rick is good at administering really stingy lashes with this tool. He has me howling and dancing in place within the first five licks. I’m made to take ten forehand lashes, and then ten backhanded ones, so the slapper could register on both cheeks evenly. I’m made to count all twenty licks out loud, which I manage to do even though my voice cracks throughout the ordeal. He’s just helping you with your morning make-up, I tell myself. The red face I get negates the need for any blush, and my eyelashes are adorned with a heavy coating of tears instead of mascara.
I hear him drop the crop on the floor. I’m so glad that it’s over, I run to Rick, wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He steers me down so that his erection sinks into my pussy, and then we fuck standing up, leaning against the wall. I attach my mouth to his, the suction of my mouth at one end and my pussy on his manhood down lower is intense and animal-like, like something you’d see in the zoo and then turn away from because it was so fierce.
I pogo on his stick through several wonderful orgasms, each one more mind-altering than the last. His finger tickles at the opening of my rosebud. I pull my face away from his, my mouth an inch from his; my eyes are slightly crossed because he is so close and my brain is so addled. “Do you want me… there…?”
“It’d be a shame to waste the opportunity… You did get it all so nicely prepared…”
Rick puts me facedown on the bed. I put my ass high in the air. He slowly touches his cockhead to the opening. This is the unhurried, languid, leisurely fuck that I’d dreamed of an hour ago. He lingers at the portal, like a teenager gingerly knocking at his girlfriend’s door on prom night. I open for him, tentatively, smilingly. He saunters past the threshold, gently eases his way inside. Every blessed millimeter feels divine as he sinks his cock up my ass.
“Oh! This is how I wanted you all along!” I sigh. “We butt fuck so well together!”
“God! I love your ass! I love fucking you in the ass, Jeanie!”
“Then fuck me, lover…” and I arch up into him, and he thrusts down deep, and we were off to the races, the tortoise races, every movement in slow motion, the in and out, the moans he elicited out of me, the huge cock he filled me with, followed by the load he filled my bowels with, the cross-eyes gaze, the long kiss while we were still joined like some perverted Siamese twins, and the awkward kiss as he shrunk up and disengaged from out of my butt.
We didn’t make it to the art fair in the park. He made me breakfast in bed, where I spent most the day sitting on an icepack and reading a good book. What’s that line from Robbie Burns and then Steinbeck about the best laid plans of mousey submissives and their Dominant men? I don’t know; I just know it was the perfect sultry Sunday.

4 responses to “#432) Sultry Sunday”

    • Do you have Scottish ancestry, Sophie, like me? My people were lowlanders, which anyone could guess because I’m constantly “down and dirty.” This has given me the idea for a story about a bi-curious girl having a “fling” with a cute lass from the Highlands, how they get frisky in a tavern one night after one-too-many tankards of ale, kissing and fondling as they dance together, trying to achieve vertically what best could be accomplished horizontally together in bed, how they make all the men in the bar “tent” their kilts like the circus had come to town… (I guess I just told the tale, bonny dear…!)
      Jean Marie


  1. No Scottish ancestry Jean Marie but I was I was at Edinburgh University! I love the story you just told about the frisky Highland and Lowland girls in a vertical posture!

    Liked by 1 person

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