#474) Informal

It’s a typical evening. We are laying entwined on the couch. I’m dressed in a cut-off sweatshirt and sweat-socks and am reading an engrossing book. Rick is fully, if casually, dressed and is watching a television show on PBS. As I read, I am mindlessly tracing the outline of his tumescent cock beneath his clothes. As he watches the flatscreen, his middle fingers is tracing the crack of my bare butt. It occurs to me with some measure of pleasure that what he’s doing is causing his tumescence, or more accurately, what he’s touching. But then I realize that it’s been a long day since my shower at dawn, so as inconspicuously as possible, I take his hand in mine, slowly lift it to my face. With the subterfuge of kissing his hand, I sniff his finger.
“What’re you doin’?”
“Nothin’, just… kissing your hand… showing that I love you…” I give him my best star-crossed look, but Rick isn’t buying it.
“You were checking to see if your butt stinks!” he accuses with a big smile.
“I was just… it’s been a long time since I showered and…” I quit trying to justify my actions. “…Does it…?”
Rick laughs as he picks me up, first kissing my mouth lightly, then putting me over his knee and parting my buttocks. I blush an even deeper shade of crimson as he runs the tip of his nose down my butt crack and stops to push his nose up my anus just a nudge.
Smiling like the goofball he is, he says, “Nope.”
“You’re…” and I don’t know where to start… Funny, lovable, frustrating, boundary-busting, sexy, unflappable? I settle on a different word, “…gross!”
“I’m gross?” he reacts, mock-offended, “you ask me if your butt smells shitty, and I’m gross?”
“Yes!” I want to lecture him that I need to feel like a lady, even if I rarely behave like it…
“That may be, but you’re the one getting a spanking…” and he’s pinning me in place with his left hand and a leg-lock.
“Don’t!” I mock-protest with a squeal, but it’s too late; Rick’s already spanking.
It’s slow-paced and sensual, hard enough to hurt, but hurt so good. It’s the most erotic thing he could do to me, and I’m joyous that he thinks the same way. It isn’t a one-and-done, it goes on and on, and I just keep getting more excited with each spank.
He stops to rub, not so much to give me a break as to appreciate my ample, apple-cheeked, red delicious fruit.
“I love this ass!” he enthuses exuberantly.
“I know you do, I’m glad you do!” and I kiss him. It used to bother me that men would express their profound love for my posterior quite quickly in any budding relationship. Now I realize that men have triggers, triggers that set-off their sexuality. I attract butt-men. I now check a guy out deeply enough to make sure he’s also a spanko Top before getting involved. I’ve never been in a relationship with a tit-man. What would be the point or possibility? I’ve grown to think of tit-men as mommas-boys, still fixated on suckling, whereas ass-men are percussionists, in tune with the basic rhythm of the cosmos. “Are you done?” I ask, gesturing with my head toward my ass.
“Not quite…” he returns, and gives me a volley of about fifteen more of the hardest swats so far. I squeal more, but take it happily.
We are breathing heavily, in unison. I feel so connected to him at this moment. I undo his pants and pull both pairs down roughly. I mount him face-to-face, sitting on his lap. The thought crosses my mind, simultaneous with the wave of giddy ecstasy that washes over my body, that it isn’t just a typical evening, it is archetypical. Everything about this evening says volumes about who we are as individuals, as a couple, as Dominance/submission partners, as us. Being the butt-man he is, Rick’s hands cup me there as I grip his dick hard. I know what’s coming, his fingers inch closer and closer into my crack as we fuck. Inevitably, his middle finger finds its mark, rims me, then, having determined that this is predestined, it plunges into me on the upstroke, buries itself in me deeply there on the downward stroke. And having trodden this familiar dirt road previously, I’m not concerned about the condition of that finger when it comes out eventually. I just enjoy the ride.

2 responses to “#474) Informal”

    • Hmm, you’ve already coined the term “generous,” which I thought was poetic. I might add “gorgeous, erotic, perfection incarnate.” Would those words have the chance of being used in connection with your famous and infamous bottom, ma’am? Might my right hand have the chance of connecting with said sensual seat?

      Liked by 1 person

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