A TAIL TO REMEMBER
"Spank my nasty butt," she said.
Please read the standard disclaimer on Alextasy's biography page.
- - -
"Susan. I've found another one."
My wife's head shot up, and she froze midway through zipping up her skirt. She stared at me, no doubt recognizing the subtle change in my voice, the gentle tone that belied an imminent threat. The telltale signs of her anxiety were almost instant--a reddening flush around her neck, a quickening in the rise and fall of her chest.
I displayed the evidence of her misdeed in my hand and shook my head. "I can't believe this. Another black sock mated with a dark blue sock. They aren't even the same style."
She stammered. "I...I don't know how that could be, Dave."
The wide-eyed, terrified look on her face concealed her growing anticipation. The brief flicker at the corner of her mouth hinted at her true desires.
Her half-hearted attempt at appeasing me was predictable. "I'm so sorry. Here, let me find you another pair."
She took a step toward the chest of drawers but recognized the effort as futile when I sat on the edge of the dresser stool, slipped off my tie, and beckoned with a finger.
"No... Please Dave. It won't happen again, I promise! We'll be late for the Robinson's, and you know how they feel about--"
When I raised a hand, she immediately silenced. She seemed already on the verge of tears. If I hadn't known better, I would've almost felt sorry for her. She was good at this.
"If we're late, then you can tell them why."
I gestured to her again. Head lowered, acting the role of the condemned, she trudged across the room to where I sat, and held out her wrists, insides pressed against each other. I wound the silk tie around them several times, tucked an end through the middle to secure it as usual, then eased her down to lie across my knees.
Lifting the back of her herringbone skirt, I rolled the sheer black pantyhose down to her knees, which served to lock them together. Shining up at me was one of my favorite sights--my wife's smooth, round butt. With the kid's activities and running around the house, it had been weeks since I'd last seen her like this. Tonight, we were alone. I sighed with satisfaction, my hand caressing the pale, soft globes, preparing to paint them a bright shade of pink.
Underneath my thighs, I sensed her bound arms stretching out, reaching to touch herself.
The introduction of this sort of play had rejuvenated our marriage. The first time I mentioned it to Susan, she was understandably reticent. I had concocted an elaborate story about overhearing a man and a woman talking about it at a restaurant. When I finally induced her to try, we started slowly with sharp slaps while we made love. She was surprised by how stimulating it was. She likened the arousing sensations to the appetizing burn of salsa. The cathartic effects played on her emotions, too. She didn't understand why it made her feel strangely safe and protected.
If I had ever told her the truth of my first such experience, she would surely have divorced me, then murdered me. Then she would have cut off my dick, for spite.
Or, she could have done something much worse.
- - -
Like many companies in the first few years after 9/11, my employers banned most air travel, both for security and cost reasons. I was forced to drive to my frequent out-of-town meetings.
At the same time, Susan and I were going through a rough patch in our marriage. We had hit the point where we'd lost touch. I was on the road a lot, and when I was home, we didn't talk like we once did. Sex had grown dull, predictable, and I think we both realized there was a good chance we might not last together. Neither of us knew what to do about it, however.
I had to cover an emergency client meeting in Massachusetts, a day and a half drive, one way. There hadn't been time to make detailed travel plans. I'd already been behind the wheel for nearly twelve hours when I discovered that decent lodging for business travelers in the hills of central Pennsylvania was hard to find. Around eight that evening, I spied a decent-looking, two-story motel stuck between a gas station and a combination restaurant and bar. There weren't but a couple of cars parked in front, but I was beat, and the idea of dinner, a drink, and a long night's sleep sounded mighty good.
After checking in and dropping my bags in my room, I strode to the restaurant next door. Like the hotel, it was nearly empty, just a guy behind the bar talking to his single customer, a well-dressed middle-aged lady. I took a stool at the far end of the bar.
The bartender, a tall, burly guy, was drying glasses and putting them away. His bald head and handlebar mustache gave him the look of a strong man at the circus.
"What'll ya' have?" He grumbled, as if he was ready to close down.
"Wine, house red will be fine. How about a burger?"
"Fries?"
"Sure. No onions."
The woman at the other end of the bar looked as though she was probably in her late 30s or early 40s. Her outfit made me think she might be a realtor--a pale yellow skirt suit with matching jacket, a low-cut, coral satin top, and short heels. Her slim crossed legs were attractive. I didn't think much more about it. I liked to look, but I'd never messed around.
She gave a big grin to the bartender as he headed to the kitchen. He flashed her a dirty look.
"I think you need to go home," he told her in a low tone that sounded almost threatening.
"Well, spank my nasty butt!" she exclaimed in a too-loud voice. "I've only had one drink, Phil. You're not cutting me off, are you?" She fluttered her lashes at him.
The bartender rolled his eyes, shook his head, and continued to the kitchen to make my sandwich.
Idly watching the TV behind the bar, I noticed from the corner of my eye that the woman was checking me out.
"Where ya' from?" she said.
"Missouri." To this day, I don't know why I lied.
"Well, spank my nasty butt!" she repeated, loud enough for the bartender to hear her in the kitchen. "I've got an uncle in Missouri." She grinned, big and friendly, and moved to the seat next to me.
She extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Alice."
Again, I lied. "Roger." We shook hands.
"Glad to meet you, Roger!" She had an overly enthusiastic lilt to her voice that added to the impression she was coming on to me, though I couldn't imagine why.
To be honest, I was flattered. And interested. Alice was an attractive woman. The faint whiff of her perfume was enticing. I checked her left hand--no gold band. My wife was nearly a thousand miles away. Here we were, in the middle of nowhere, I didn't know anybody, and nobody knew me. I couldn't recall the last time I'd been hit on by a woman--any woman. For the first time since I'd been married, genuine temptation was knocking.
I said, "Looks like your glass is almost empty. Let me fill it up for you."
"Well, spank my nasty butt." She said it again, this time quieter, more sultry, gazing into my eyes with unmistakable interest. "What a sweetie you are." She laid a hand on my upper thigh, cementing the deal.
"Oh, Phillip," she called enticingly to the barkeep, raising her glass so he could see it through the window. "This nice gentleman is buying me a drink." Something mysterious in her voice held the ring of hidden meaning, but I couldn't discern the significance. At that point, I didn't care.
We talked each other up while I ate my burger and enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine. Inhibitions lowered, we inched closer, speaking in lower tones. Fleeting touches became bolder, more suggestive.
Phil, the sourpuss bartender, was quiet in an almost menacing way. He seemed perennially gruff and was always looming somewhere nearby. I noticed that he shook his head a lot, sniffing contemptuously and rolling his eyes as Alice and I grew more friendly.
I paid our tab with my credit card. When Phil laid it back on the counter, Alice snatched it up.
Oh, jeez, my name!
"Well, 'Roger'." She exaggerated my pseudonym, glancing back at me. "I think it's time for me to go. Will you please walk me to my car, 'Roger'?" She handed my card over with a knowing grin.
I stood and offered my arm. She hooked hers through and we strolled to the parking lot. As we closed the door behind us, I heard a crashing sound from inside, like a glass shattering. I glanced back through the window to see Phil glaring at us.
I was too tipsy--and too horny--to care. Alice seemed to sway as we walked across the lot. She stumbled and I caught her. We ended up with our arms around each other, face-to-face, barely an inch separating our lips. Her stout breasts were mashed against my chest.
"My, Roger, I think I'm drunk. It's probably not safe for me to drive home. Are you by any chance staying at the hotel?" She gazed into my eyes, her voice the purest of innocence.
"Why yes, I am." I responded in a similar tone. "Would you like to, um, lie down for a while?"
She fluttered her eyelashes. Her reply was a sultry whisper.
"I think that's a good idea."
- - -
As soon as I let her in my room, Alice transformed into a different person. She marched across the room, surefooted, to set her purse on the desk, then slid her jacket off, tossed it across the chair, and unzipped her skirt. It glided over her wide hips, down her graceful legs and pooled around her feet.
The blood drained from my head and into my dick at the sight of the dark thicket on her panty-less crotch.
She picked her skirt up, brushed it off and laid it over her jacket, leaving her in her coral, satin blouse.
"Well, Roger. What are you waiting for?" She held her hands out, an invitation.
I swooped Alice into my arms and inhaled her luscious lips. It had been years since I'd kissed a woman like that. She was vibrant, her full, expressive mouth hungry for my tongue.
While her marvelous lips entertained mine, her hands went to work on my belt. In seconds, my pants dropped to the floor.
She followed them, working her way down my body with her lips and hands. Soon my shorts were around my ankles. She pushed me back to sit on the edge of the bed and wrapped her steamy mouth around the head of my dick, bobbing and slurping. Her fingertips caressed my nuts, and she sucked on each of them, then her animated mouth sloshed over my dick again.
It had been far too long since I enjoyed such an enthusiastic blowjob. My head fell back, and I quivered and moaned, clutching her hair, following her rhythms as she pleasured me. I desperately wanted to fuck her, but I couldn't bear the thought of leaving the tropical warmth of that perfect mouth.
She made the decision for me. Her hand continued to stroke me softly while she straddled my thighs and leaned forward to kiss me. My finger slid along her lower crevice, spreading her slickness and wiggling the tiny nub, which set her hips into motion.
In a sexy whisper, she breathed into my ear. "You know what I want."
Not trying to be coy--I really didn't know--I whispered back.
"Tell me, Alice. Tell me what you want."
I assumed she would want either my dick or my tongue. They were both hers for the asking.
Instead, she stared into my eyes and spoke in slow, measured syllables.
"Spank my nasty butt." She meant it.
That caught me off-guard. Since childhood I was taught never to hit a girl. I was conflicted, and worse, inexperienced. How was I supposed to know how to spank a grown woman? I needed some time to think. I'd run across hardcore porn sites--accidentally, of course--so I knew there were dozens of different ways, but I didn't have a clue where to begin.
"How do you want it?" I inquired in a soft tone, trying to sound confident, even a bit sinister. "With my hand? A belt? Or something...harder?"
She shivered as I listed the choices. She tugged my wrist from between her legs and licked my sticky, sap-covered fingers. Looking up at me with an almost prayerful expression, she kissed the center of my palm.
"We can start with this."
My dick twitched. Somehow, I had always hoped my secret research into alternative porn sites might come in handy someday.
