All characters are 18+
...
Grace and Hope were an unlikely, if poetically-named, couple.
First, there was Grace -- a country bumpkin from Lincolnshire, born as stereotypically as possible to a potato farmer and a social worker, and still living on her parents' farm as she tried to figure out what on Earth to do now that she'd graduated. She was the tallest of her siblings, of which there were three others, pushing six foot, but like them all her hair, which flowed down her shoulders and to her shoulder blades, was ginger as autumn leaves and her face covered in freckles, with a skinny frame which gave her a thigh gap that she'd never liked and hoped to get rid of. Her mother often told her that she was perfect but, frankly, she'd rather be fat. Curves were cute.
And then there was Hope -- a short, curvy Thai-American girl from the edge of the Smoky Mountains, "cute as punch" as Grace had (and immediately regretted) described her to her friends with her glasses and curly black hair and soft face. Appalachia, she often said, coursed as thick in her blood as Bangkok, from which her father came from. It was reflected in her Southern drawl, her love for Bruce Springsteen, and her once-devout (though not so much anymore) Muslim faith. This latter point, it turned out, wasn't much of an obstacle for her bisexuality. Hope had been as surprised as anyone.
That surprise first crystallised when she and Grace met -- Hope had been holidaying in Britain with her family and, while Grace was studying in London, ran into each other at a bookshop. It turned out to be a textbook meet-cute -- because I do mean "ran into each other." Grace dropped her armful of books, Hope helped her pick them up, their hands went for the same one and touched, and as they looked at each other they realised this was too much like a bad romantic comedy to pass up and so got to talking. They were absolute opposites -- they shared nothing except very small breasts, Grace pointed out to Hope's scarlet blushes -- and that was why they worked.
What might be called dates followed, with Hope wandering off from her group to meet up with the girl whom she assumed was just a new friend, whether to wander the city, go clubbing with Grace and her friends, or just sit somewhere and talk for hours on end without stopping. Hope hadn't yet known she might like girls -- then, when Grace kissed her outside Liverpool Street station as they said goodbye for the night, she realised it felt different from any Tennessee boy who'd pressed dry lips against her. In fact, she was fluttering -- and, though she might be immensely shyer than the girl kissing back.
From then on, with Hope relieved to find herself unbothered by what she'd discovered about herself, the pair took every snatched moment they could, though nothing more than kissing ever materialised -- but the day when they would have to part was fast approaching. A tearful goodbye outside Heathrow Airport followed, and so too did months of constant Skype calls and the belated realisation that they must be dating. Young and in love, both itched to see the other again -- the coming summer Grace would fly to Tennessee, spend a month with Hope and her perfectly accepting family, and, to her regret, fail to take Hope's virginity. Hope was still too nervous and too influenced by her Baptist roots which told her to save herself. Grace accepted that -- after showering, she even got dressed in the bathroom. Grace found it a little odd that, after all this time, she still hadn't seen her own girlfriend naked. But, again, she accepted it. After all, it wasn't her priority. Just being with her was -- and she had that.
But, during the stay, Hope had gotten a little too drunk and admitted something to Grace -- unprompted, she sighed and told Grace that she'd always enjoyed being spanked as a child. Grace had just stared at her, laughing, while Hope obliviously rattled on about how she'd like to do it again some time. Grace offered to do it then and there, never mind that they were in a Waffle House at the time -- no, giggled Hope, it would have to be a real punishment. She'd have to do something wrong. And, as she hadn't, no spanking came. But Grace squirrelled that admission away in her mind.
Months passed.
Hope had made the quite significant choice to come back to Britain to stay with Grace's family over Christmas and the New Year; they'd spend a few days at Grace's house in Lincoln, then go with her friends from university to London to watch the fireworks and get appallingly drunk, and then return to Lincoln. Grace wasn't sure what they'd actually do with all that time in a place as grindingly dull (her words) as Lincoln but, if Hope's past visit was anything to go by, they'd mostly lay in bed watching TV and talking. That was all either really dreamed of. Each other -- that was enough.
On the morning of Christmas Eve, the fields outside a carpet of white snow, Grace woke with Hope in her arms. Her girlfriend still snoring, Grace tried not to move even though her arm was growing numb, savouring Hope's warmth and how she pressed her plump butt against Grace's groin. Hope wore pale blue pyjamas but they were thin enough that her softness was easy to enjoy -- Grace wore a vest and white underwear but, for now, Hope wasn't even ready to go that far. Grace wondered if that day would ever come but she did all she could to avoid becoming one of those angsty partners who thought themselves owed their partner's body. That was one thing she never wanted to become.
Eventually, Hope woke -- after spending a bit of time talking through an odd dream she had about snowploughs, they showered, dressed (Grace in a hoodie and jeans and Hope, thinking the occasion was worth more effort, in a black knee-length dress dotted with pink and purple flowers), and went downstairs for breakfast with Grace's family. What followed was a pretty conventional day -- they walked the dogs with Grace's mother, who was almost as in love with Hope as Grace herself was, before going into town to get coffee and finish buying gifts. More than once, when Hope was walking ahead of Grace, she would look at her girlfriend's bubbly rear and almost feel a longing to reach out and smack it. She didn't, of course, but the urge was becoming everpresent.
That evening, sat together in the lounge, drinks were soon opened and Uno was played and a silly romantic Christmas comedy was watched -- Hope, perfectly in character even had she not had too much red wine, teared up at it. At one point in the film a female character was seen escaping her lover's bedroom by climbing out of the window and, in nothing but her underwear, sprinting across a snowy garden and down the street.
"Hey," said Hope, suddenly, patting Grace on the thigh. "That's like what happened to you!"
"What?" asked Grace -- and both of her parents. Hope grinned and dread built up inside Grace.
"Grace told me that happened to her one time," she said, almost gleefully. Grace glared at her -- Hope was ignoring all the very hard 'stop it right now' pinches she was applying to her leg.
"Wait, so..." Grace's dad looked back at the screen. "When was this?"
"Never," snapped Grace -- she was as bad a liar as they came.
"Yeah it did," teased Hope. "When you were at uni -- you said. She hooked up with some guy and then his girlfriend showed up so she had to run naked out of the dorm and get dressed in the car park."
"Are you kidding me?" laughed Grace's mum. "Grace! I raised you better than that!"
"You didn't -- but I did!" her dad laughed, as Grace's face turned red as a strawberry.
"Someone had an eventful time at uni," sniggered mum.
"There's a LOT of stories," prodded Hope, over the giggles. "A lot." The trio teased her for a good five minutes and, every now and then, someone would bring it up out of nowhere to provoke another round of laughter. Grace, meanwhile, silently fumed with embarrassment -- but also excitement. She had her excuse.
With the film over and a lot of wine having been consumed -- Grace was finding the room more than a little spinny -- her parents put the dogs to bed while Grace and Hope wandered upstairs with the intent of maybe sleeping or maybe finishing a couple episodes of Doctor Who. Or, rather, that was Hope's intent.
With the door closed and Hope stumbling to retrieve Grace's laptop from the desk, Grace leaned back against the door with her arms crossed and her heart thundering. This was going to be a big risk. She bit the side of her cheek to keep herself from giggling.
"I bet you think that was really funny, don't you?" she asked. Hope turned and looked at her with big, brown eyes.
"Huh?"
"Don't 'huh' me, you know what you did."
"Oh." Hope smiled. "Yeah. Well, I just assumed you'd told them."
"Why would I ever tell them something like that?"
"I dunno." She shrugged. "Does it matter?"
"Well, a little bit, yeah. You embarrassed me."
"It's not that bad -- come on." Hope was ungainly on her feet -- she put her hand against the wall to steady herself.
"I disagree."
"Disagree all you want. See if I care. Are we watching Doctor Who or not?"
"I think..." Grace took a couple of steps forward and Hope's expression shifted to something more nervous. "...you need to take this a bit more seriously."
"Okay, fine," sighed Hope, taking hold of Grace's hips. "I'll run naked down the street to make it up to you. Better?"
"Or you could apologise."
"I've got nothing to apologise for." She stuck out her tongue. "I'll apologise when I'm sorry. And I'm not sorry -- cause it was funny."
"I see." Grace fixed Hope with a dark look. Hope just grinned back -- until Grace took hold of her wrist. "Well then, I guess I'll just have to punish you."
"What're you talking-" Hope would have finished the sentence had she not instead squealed with surprise as Grace yanked her towards the bed. She followed, involuntarily, as Grace sat.
"Wait, wait, wait," protested Hope, as she was pulled over Grace's lap. "You can't be serious."
"Don't I look serious?" Grace asked, as she held Hope tightly by the hip, keeping her pinned against Grace's body even as she vainly (but, Grace noticed, not that energetically) struggled, her skirt flapping at her knees.
"Oh my God, are you really gonna spank me over this? I can't believe you!"
"You better shut up unless you want everyone to know," Grace hissed, excitement fizzing between her legs as Hope lay helpless across her, a bit heavy but not so much that it became uncomfortable, her curled hair pouring over her face like a black waterfall and her hands reaching for the floor to steady herself. This Grace took to indicate, on some level, cooperation.
For a moment, Grace wasn't quite sure how to get started. She just stared at her girlfriend, restrained and perhaps just as drunkenly excited as her, her plump bottom inviting even when still covered by the dress. Tentatively, Grace rested a hand on a firm cheek and Hope mewled some vague, hopefully fake, protest. This, alone, was something of a landmark -- Grace could count on her hands the number of times she'd been daring enough to touch Hope's rear and she remembered each one. From the first time -- when, on their very first day together, she'd slapped Hope's bum when she bent down to pick up a dropped bus ticket and her girlfriend's startled expression told her not to do it again -- to the last -- when, while making out in bed a few nights ago, she'd held her rear with both hands, inviting all kinds of approving purrs, but went no further lest she frighten Hope. Each was saved in Grace's mind for next time she played with herself. She was definitely more of a butt person, she thought.
