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Story 1
“That’s a weird technique,” I said. “Do all Americans do it like that?”Dean frowned at me across the table. “What do you mean?”
“That weird fork thing you do. You have your fork in your left hand while cutting your food, then you switch it over to your right hand to eat. It looks really odd.”
“What do you Brits do?”
“Keep the fork in our left hands, of course. Like civilised people.”
“Civilised people, huh?” Dean smiled.
“Absolutely. Want me to give you a lesson in proper British table etiquette?”
“That depends. Want me to give you a lesson in proper American over-the-knee spanking techniques?”
I dropped my fork in shock and it clattered noisily onto my plate. Had he really just said that? On our fourth date? Colour rushed to my cheeks.
“You know what, sweetie? I actually think you do.” said Dean.
“I.. I..” I begun, my grasp of words having deserted me. “Um, yes,”
“ I’d hate to disappoint a lady,” said Dean, pushing his chair away from the table. He patted his lap. “Over you go, princess.”
Shaking, I stood up and placed myself over Dean’s lap. He was a big guy. Six foot five of broad shouldered muscle, the thought of submitting to him was exhilarating. We were still getting to know one another, having only met a handful of times before. We hadn’t even had sex together yet. What on earth had given him the clue that spanking was my all time sexual fantasy? Maybe it had been a lucky guess.
He pushed my skirt up to my waist, drew back his hand and delivered a hard, stinging swat to the seat of my knickers. I yelped.
“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” said Dean.
“I don’t want you to stop” I mumbled, staring down at the carpet.
“That’s what I like to hear,” said Dean pulling my panties to my thighs and raining a series of hard spanks onto my naked bottom. It hurt like hell; it was amazing. I was so wet I was practically dripping. He spanked me until my backside was sore and throbbing and burning hot. I squirmed on his lap, rubbing my crotch against his trouser leg.
“You needed that, didn’t you?” he said, slipping his finger inside me and rubbing my clit. I moaned. The spanking had brought me so close to orgasm; I’d only need the slightest touch to push me over the edge.
“Shall we take this into the bedroom?” whispered Dean
“God, yes.”
“Unless you’d prefer to teach me some finer points of British etiquette instead?”
I looked over my shoulder at him from my position across his knees. “Well, there’s your appalling pronunciation of the word aluminium,” I said. “That could do with some correcting.”
Dean chuckled, spanking me four more times, hard on my already tender backside. “The only person round here who needs correcting is you. And you know it. Come on, sassy, let’s get you naked.”
Story 2
How long is he going to drone on about himself?Fiona picked at her meal, not believing she’d harbored a crush on Matthew for six months. This was their third date and he’d yet to ask what she did for a living.
Absentmindedly spearing her broccoli, she watched as her fork, as if in slow motion, escaped her hand with an impressive backflip before crashing to the floor. Fiona sighed as she reached down to pick it up - instead making contact with the rugged hand of the man from the booth behind her as he, too, attempted to retrieve the errant cutlery. Her eyes met his after the touch sent an unexpected shiver through her.
Paul!
A thousand questions screamed for answers, but Fiona only gasped as his hazel eyes seared into hers. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before wordlessly turning back to his companions. Matthew appeared oblivious as Fiona’s heart slammed in her chest.
Paul rose behind her and walked towards the restrooms, stopping briefly to give her a quick nod.
“Excuse me!”
Fiona jumped from her chair, her napkin joining the fork that remained on the floor. Each step took her closer to the man who had awoken both unbridled pleasure and crushing heartbreak. Their relationship had been passionate, uninhibited, and over too soon when work took him across the world.
As she stepped through the slightly ajar door, a strong arm pulled her in and closed it behind her.
“Fiona,” he sighed as his body pressed hers against the door - his mouth leaning down to devour her own. Paul’s tongue penetrated her lips, causing currents of desire to shoot through her core.
Fiona’s senses were overwhelmed. His scent, touch, and taste flooded her body, triggering memories of their life together. Strong hands greedily explored her curves - touching her face and breasts before gliding over her ample ass. A strangled groan escaped Paul as he lowered his hips to grind his hard cock against her swollen pussy.
“Ahhh…,” she moaned as Paul dropped to his knees and tore off her panties. Spreading her thighs, he leaned forward to suck, lick, and bite her wet pussy until her legs trembled.
“Fuck me, Paul! Just fuck me!”
Leaning over the sink, Fiona grasped the porcelain sides with all her strength. His zipper dropped and she felt the thick head of his cock enter her with one smooth stroke until his hips pressed against her backside. Her head dropped as he fucked her with long, hard thrusts until he fisted her hair tightly, pulling her head upright once more.
He remembers.
Through the mirror their eyes locked - his strokes became fast and erratic, igniting long-buried nerves until Fiona exploded in orgasm, driving Paul to his own bucking release - their grunts and moans barely concealed by the overhead fan.
Cradled over her back, his dress shirt and tie rumpled with sweat, Paul lifted his head to speak.“Tonight was a celebratory dinner for my new job. I’m home, baby.”
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