We lay together on the bed, my wife Amy and I, amid a tangled mass of sheets, pussy juices, and cum stains. Both of us fully nude, lying on our backs, side by side, the fingers of my left hand resting on her wet slit. I’d rolled off her not two minutes earlier. My spent cock, still covered in cum, still a little hard, rested against my belly. I rubbed her clit, gently at first, then harder, feeling the last spasms of her orgasm.
“That was nice,” she said, “wasn’t it?”
“It was,” I said sleepily, feeling the blood continue to drain out of my dick. “Wonderful, even.” I paused and dipped my index finger into her vagina. What a great place to be. I could feel her pussy walls contract around my finger. Then I slid my finger out of her body and licked it. One of my favorite flavors: Amy’s pussy juice mixed with Ulf’s cum. “Yes, wonderful. As usual.”
“As always, Ulf,” she corrected me.
I closed my eyes and smiled. “As always,” I echoed.
She turned slightly toward me and snuggled up against my naked body. I turned to face her. “I like doing it this way,” she said.
“This way?” My eyes fluttered open. I used my index finger to trace around her nipple, still standing erect from our lovemaking just a short time ago. The liquid on my finger made her nipple glisten in the dim light. I felt a stirring in my cock. “You mean, intercourse? You mean, fucking? As opposed to what, exactly?” Knowing precisely what I was doing, I paused my index finger in its wanderings, placed my thumb on the other side of her nipple, and gave a squeeze.
She winced. “Oh—you know,” she said, too casually.
I did know. I squeezed a little harder. My right hand stayed where it was while my left hand reached down and slowly began to massage her ass. Again, she winced as if in anticipation. Of what, I knew perfectly well. I lifted my hand slightly and tapped her beautiful butt. One of my favorite parts of my lovely wife. “I might know,” I said, both of us focused on the movement of my hand along her bare bottom. “But I might not.” I tapped her ass again, harder this time. “Better say it.”
Amy took a deep breath. I could feel her ass wiggle beneath my hand as I slid it to her other cheek. “I like fucking better than…” She whispered the last word.
“I can’t hear you,” I said pleasantly. This time I lifted my hand off her butt entirely and brought it down on her cheek. She tensed, though I’m sure I hadn’t hit her hard enough to cause any pain. “Say it again.”
“I like fucking better than…” Amy said slowly, then swallowed hard and said in a rush “betterthanspanking.”
“Do you?” I smiled. “I like them both. But you haven’t done anything lately to deserve correction, have you?” I paused. “Or have you?”
“No,” she said a little too quickly. “I haven’t.”
“Good to hear.” I gave her nipple one final squeeze and her butt one last pat—it really was only a pat, so why she gave a short gasp I have no idea, not that I minded—and drew Amy closer to me. My cock brushed against her thighs, which felt—wonderful—but it was late and we’d have to take a rain check.
Not that I minded.
I closed my eyes and tried to match the rhythm of her breathing. She reached over and turned out the light, leaving us naked and post-coital in the darkness. Showers could wait till the morning. I rather like going to sleep with the signs of sex on and around my body, anyway. If nothing else, it smells good. We kissed. “Good night, Amy,” I said. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Ulf.”
I was on the verge of sleep when I remembered. “Oh, you got a call today,” I said.
“Hmm?” Amy was almost asleep herself. “Who from?”
“Doctor’s office,” I told her. “The one down in Fosterville. On the landline. What, you didn’t give them your cell number?”
“Not sure.” She really was practically asleep. “What’d they want?”
“You left your flexible spending card. They need you to come back to their office and pick it up.”
“Crap.” She yawned. “I’ll do it if I can.”
“If you can?” I pulled slightly away from her. I would have looked her directly in the eyes if there had been enough light to see her. “You will.”
“Maybe,” she said. She rolled over onto her other side, away from me, and then slid back toward my body. The back of her head was now in front of my face. More important, my cock was pressing up against her ass, and was it my imagination or was she deliberately sliding her butt cheeks against it?
“Maybe?” I repeated. “You know, if you don’t there will be consequences. Want to try again? You will go pick up the card you left at the doctor’s office.”
There was silence. Now I was sure: That ass was definitely pushing against my prick, and it was deliberate. Tired as I was, I could feel my cock growing. I rested my hand on her top cheek. “Well?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she said again.
*
That was Tuesday. Work things and other life issues intruded on Wednesday and Thursday, and it wasn’t till Friday that I remembered about the card, and not until we were naked and almost done with what Amy liked best: intercourse, fucking, this time with her on top. In fact, it was the moan of her orgasm that reminded me about the card, I don’t know why. I bet she didn’t go down to Fosterville, I thought, and for some reason—well, by now I’m sure you can guess the reason—I found myself half hoping she hadn’t. The thought of how I would respond if the card was still at the office put me over the edge, just a minute or so after Amy.
“Here I come,” I announced, feeling my cock and balls tighten and semen exploding into my wife’s pussy. “Yessss,” she whispered, holding tightly to my body. This time we stayed in that position for a few minutes, feeling our orgasms subside, until my cock slipped gently out of her cunt.
“That was nice,” Amy said after a moment. “I mean—that was wonderful. As usual.”
“As always,” I corrected her, inclining my head for a kiss. “Not to change the subject or anything, but did you manage to pick up that flexible spending card?”
“I didn’t,” Amy said. “I don’t have time.” This time it was her finger circling my nipple. It felt good. No, wonderful. As always. “I think you should go get it. Don’t you go down that way on Wednesdays? For work?”
I placed one hand on Amy’s bare ass. “Not all the way to Fosterville,” I told her. “And why, exactly, should I be the one to go get it? You were the one who left it there.” I smacked her ass cheek, not hard. She winced. “Consequences,” I said. “I’m giving you a deadline. Tuesday. Pick it up Monday or Tuesday. If you don’t, and I have to get it for you, you’re not going to like it.” Smack. Her body moved on top of mine, seeking fluid attachment. “Can you commit to picking it up Monday or Tuesday?”
Her ass slid up to meet my hand. Her legs opened slowly, her pussy releasing the last of my cum onto my cock…
“Maybe,” she said.
*
If you met Amy, what would you notice right away? Not her attractiveness, necessarily, though she is undoubtedly good-looking, and it’s not just me who says it. Nope, it’s her self-confidence. She’s opinionated, loud, argumentative. She’s usually sure she’s right, and to be honest she often is. (Though not, perhaps, as often as she thinks!) In social and work situations she can come across as arrogant, even abrasive. So you might find it surprising that she is the woman I dominate in the bedroom, the woman I choose to spank, the woman who flinches at the sound of the slaps, the woman whose ass I turn red whenever she needs it—the woman I bring to orgasm after a spanking when I deem her to be ready.
Surely, Ulf, you’re thinking, you’d rather smack the butt of a nice submissive lady instead?
Well, no, I wouldn’t. I’ve never spanked a woman other than Amy, so I can’t know for sure, but I don’t imagine that correcting a naturally submissive woman would be all that rewarding. The great thing about dominating my wife is taking a strong, independent, somewhat abrasive woman with a mind of her own, and through the careful use of the paddle and the belt reduce her to a quivering mass of jelly thanking me for the thrashing I’m giving her ass and begging me to plow her pussy with my hard cock.
Maybe it would be as good with a woman who was already meek and quiet. Maybe. I mean, spanking is spanking, and I suppose I wouldn’t turn down the opportunity if it arose. But making my strong-minded wife bend to my will is an achievement, and not one I’d look to change for an “easier” challenge.
*
Monday and Tuesday went by without any discussion of Fosterville. I thought of asking her Wednesday morning, but we were in a rush and real life intruded. I got my answer, though, soon after she’d left for work and moments before I was ready to walk out the door. That’s because the phone rang, and it was the doctor’s office, a woman calling with a slightly exasperated “gentle reminder” that Amy had left her flexible spending card and could someone please come pick it up today.
Yes, I explained, feeling a stirring in my groin, someone could, and that someone would be me. I hung up, equal parts irritated and turned on. I grabbed my cell and sent Amy a text. Couldn’t be bothered, huh? I wrote, decided that was enough for now, and pressed SEND. Two minutes later, the cell buzzed. What? was all it said. I texted back Talk tonight. Among other things and stepped onto the porch. I was locking the door when another text came in. I told you I didn’t have time, it said. What’s the BFD?
Fuming, I slid into the driver’s seat of my car. Started it up. Wrote and sent one more text. You don’t get it, do you? it read. Well, now you really are going to get it. I added an emoji of a spanking paddle I’d found online, hesitated only a moment, and sent it.
*
You may be thinking one of two things at this moment. You might be looking forward to tonight the way I was, visualizing the paddle and the hairbrush descending toward Amy’s bare ass cheeks, the sound of her groans and the smack of my cupped hand meeting her flesh, the breaking down of a sometimes too-proud woman under my guidance, the evening culminating in my orgasm—and hers, if I decided to allow it. I hope that’s what you’re thinking! But I know you also might be wondering, What? It’s a goddamn flexible spending card, is what it is. It’s not like Amy drove a hundred miles an hour, or bought a new living room furniture set you couldn’t afford, or flashed her tits at your best friend! Save spanking for something important, why don’t you?
And on the chance that these are your thoughts, let me explain. There’s something called the broken window theory. Windows in city neighborhoods are always breaking, right, and the question is whether they get cleaned up and fixed. If they don’t, rot sets in. Drug dealers take over, gangbangers, armed robbers. They figure no one cares, and they’re probably right. But if the windows do get fixed, the bad influences stay away and the neighborhood stays nice and clean. Well, it’s the same thing with spanking. By punishing—correcting—my wife when she does something small, I ensure that she doesn’t escalate her bad behavior. I turn her over my knee if she backs out of the driveway with her seat belt unbuckled, so I make damn sure she doesn’t drive a hundred. I drum out a rhythm on her ass if she forgets to pay the electric bill on time, so she certainly isn’t going to buy a new living room set without my input. I threaten to take videos of her sore and sorry butt for small things precisely so she’d never dare to show her lovely boobs to anyone but me. I take her in hand early on to make sure she doesn’t get out of hand, if you catch my drift.
And I suspect you do.
*
“You’re late,” Amy said from the couch when I got home. She was lying on her stomach and reading something on her Kindle. Fully dressed except that her feet were bare.
Well, she wouldn’t be fully dressed for long. “Yes, I’m late,” I said. “I had to go down to Fosterville after work.”
“Oh, really?” Amy tried for a bored, dismissive tone, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. “What’s for dinner, anyway?”
“Don’t change the subject,” I advised. “I have your flexible spending card here. The one that you left at the doctor’s office more than a week ago.”
“Oh, that.” Again the failed attempt at boredom. “Well, thanks for getting it, I guess. How’d you like to go to the Greek place? Or Thai, we could do Thai—” She stopped and stiffened as she saw me slowly undo my belt. “Please don’t,” she said with a half-gasp. “It’s just a card, just a silly card, I would have gotten it tomorrow.”
Gently, carefully, I pulled the belt out of the loops. Holding it by the buckle, I pretended to study the belt as it dangled in front of me. Then I flicked the other end, hard, in the direction of her ass. It didn’t come within two feet of her, but she flinched anyway. Good. “It’s not ‘just a card,’ and you know it,” I said. “It was embarrassing, answering the phone today. It was time out of my life, going to get it. I didn’t appreciate your attitude about it. Still don’t. Now you’re going to pay.”
I took three quick steps forward, brandishing the belt. Lifted it over my head and sent it crashing down against her butt before she could react. She gave a gasp, closed her eyes, and began to roll over onto her back. With my free hand, I stopped her before she’d gotten halfway.
“None of that, now,” I said softly. “You’ll take my corrections. And you’ll like it.” Steadying her as she lay on her side, I got in three more strokes with the belt, each landing with a satisfying smack. Better to hit her when she had no pants on, but this was a good start.
She leaned her head over her shoulder, biting her lip and looking straight at me. Tears were in her eyes. “Please, Ulf,” she begged. “I don’t deserve—"
Sssmack. Sssmack. The belt hissed through the air and hit its target. I was just getting warmed up. So, I suppose, was her ass.
“I didn’t do anything wrong—”
Sssmack. The belt seemed to have taken on a life of its own, moving almost without my arm having to be involved. It was so good, I was tempted to just keep going, but I’d had all day to consider what punishments—corrections—I wanted to use on Amy for this infraction, and I had more in mind than using my belt on a clothed woman on the couch.
My arm dropped to my side, the belt with it. I’d give her one chance to show remorse, though I knew she wouldn’t take it. She never does till I beat it into her. Still... “Are you sorry?” I asked.
“Fuck that,” she murmured. “I didn’t do anything—ow!”
It was the hardest hit yet. “You don’t speak to me that way,” I informed her icily. “Now, stand up. Drop your pants and underwear. Then walk into the bedroom. Sit down on the stool you use for changing clothes, and spread your fucking legs so I can see everything you’ve got.” She hesitated, as I knew she would, but I gestured with the belt and slowly, reluctantly, she stood up and faced me.
“Strip,” I reminded her. “Everything from the waist down.” I gestured with the belt again. Amy gave me a withering look and then tugged at her waistband. Unsnapping her jeans, she lowered them till they were at her ankles. Then she paused, as if daring me to make her continue.
I took her chin in my hand and forced it slowly up till she was looking directly into my eye. “Step out of your jeans,” I directed. “All the way out.” Now she did as she was told, not averting her gaze. “Now your panties,” I said.
“No,” she said.
I don’t get mad. I don’t yell. I don’t call her names. That’s all counterproductive. The trick is to remain calm, even—especially—in the face of outright refusal and disobedience.
“Yes,” I said. I dropped the belt onto the floor and used my hand to smack her ass beneath her cotton underwear. She swayed, trying to move her butt out of harm’s way, but I anticipated her movements. The second stroke was harder and landed just where I wanted it to. I slid my hand to the waistband of her panties and folded them down in the back, revealing the beautiful crack of her ass to anyone who might have been behind her. Then I yanked the panties up and out from the rear.
“Take ‘em off,” I instructed her, and this time she did as she was told. Now she stood in front of me naked from the waist down.
A lovely sight, but there was more in store for her. I guided my wife to the stool and sat her down on the seat, positioning her so her legs were spread as far as possible. “Good,” I said. “Lean forward just a bit—further—now back—I do love to see that pretty pussy of yours.” I reached out and gave her slit a gentle rub. She drew a sharp intake of breath.
“No,” I said, slapping her hand as she made a motion to reach for her cunt herself, “I don’t think you’re ready for that. If anyone’s going to play with it, it’s me.” I gave her a kiss, my tongue pushing open her lips and sliding into her mouth to give her a taste of what might come when she was ready. “Sit there for five minutes, my dear,” I said. “Keep those legs open and that pussy exposed for my enjoyment. No talking, no moving, just think about what you’ve done and the corrections that lie ahead. In the meantime, I’ll get out our toy box.”
A minute later I was laying out our spanking toys on the bed in front of her. We have quite a collection, if I say so myself, everything from wooden rulers and ping-pong paddles to a plastic exercise rope and a device that we call the Big Bruiser—it’s made of leather, it looks lethal, and it really stings. Or so I’ve been told. I laid out five or six of them. Then I picked them up one by one and silently showed them to Amy up close and personal, running each device along her pussy or using it to give her a little smack on the butt as I chose. She winced but said nothing.
“Good girl,” I said when I’d gotten through the whole group. “Now, choose one. No words—just point.”
She hesitated, then pointed to the Ping-Pong paddle.
I’ve never been spanked myself, so I don’t have any first-hand experience, but Amy’s mentioned before that the Ping-Pong paddle doesn’t actually pack that much of a wallop. I wanted something that packed a wallop tonight. I picked up the paddle and dropped it ostentatiously to the floor. “So you’ve chosen not to use that one,” I said. “Choose another.”
Her eyes flashed, but she still said nothing. After a moment she indicated Big Bruiser. I understood her strategy—she was expecting I’d discard that one, too—but I was way ahead of her. It’s a big advantage, getting to change the rules in the middle of the game. “Good choice,” I said, picking it up and brandishing the toy a foot in front of her eyes. Then I slapped my arm with it, gently. It hurt. It also made a satisfying noise. Amy had experienced it before, though she hadn’t come with me to the porn store to buy it (that’s a story for another time), so she knew what it could do to her bare ass; still, her eyes filled momentarily with fear.
“One final chance,” I said, caressing her butt cheeks with my hand. I could feel myself getting hard; I always liked this part. “Are you sorry? Sorry for making me go out of my way? Sorry for not considering my feelings?” I increased the pressure on her ass and held Big Bruiser up for her viewing pleasure again. “Say you’re sorry and we’ll skip this part and go right to the part where I take care of your pussy.”
“I’m not sorry,” Amy said spitefully.
“Okay then,” I said. With a quick motion I stood her up and yanked her off the stool. I’d had her strip off her own pants and underwear, but I was going to be the one to get her fully nude and defenseless. I undid her top buttons and tugged her shirt over her head, letting it drop to the floor beside the paddle. Then I unhooked her bra and pulled it away from her beautiful, perky breasts. Her nipples were hard. Now she stood bare naked in front of me.
“Bend over the stool,” I said. “Put your fanny in the air. Hands where I can see them. No playing with yourself.”
“I don’t want to do this,” said Amy. “I shouldn’t have to. I—”
“I don’t give a fuck about what you want.” I seized her shoulders, turned her halfway around, and forced her torso down so it was horizontal to the ground and her vagina was pushing against the seat of the stool. Then I pushed her legs apart, the better to see her cunt. As I’d thought, by now her pussy was dripping wet. That was fair. My cock was as hard as her nipples. I longed to thrust it inside her, but corrections came first. Everything in its time. I raised up my arm--
The first blow from Big Bruiser caught her off guard. She yelped and shifted uncomfortably when the leather made contact with her right ass cheek with a loud and satisfying thwack. “Stay put, now,” I warned her. I lifted the toy and noted with satisfaction the outline of the rectangular leather on her cheek. “And a little attention to the other side,” I said, and brought the tool down with all my strength on her left cheek. Hey, fair’s fair.
“Ow!” Amy couldn’t help but arch her back in an effort to reduce the pain.
“Does it hurt?” I asked. And when she nodded, I added: “Good. It should. Ten more strokes for now. Count them.” I rained down a series of blows, alternating cheeks, while she counted aloud, but when I got to the seventh stroke she said “eight,” and I stopped.
“Not okay, little one,” I said, taking the opportunity to slide my finger inside her vagina. “Now we have to start again. Count ‘em!”
Again the blows rained down on Amy’s ass, a rat-a-tat-tat of the leather striking the flesh of my wife’s bare bottom. She cried out, but this time she counted successfully to ten. I set down Big Bruiser and reached for my phone. After nearly twenty strokes, her bottom was a mass of rectangular red marks.
“You’re not going to take a picture,” Amy said, but her voice was quavery.
“I am going to take a picture,” I said with a smile. I pointed and clicked. What a lovely sight. I showed it to Amy, who winced. “Does it hurt?” I asked again.
She nodded. “I don’t need this, you know.”
“Of course you do.” From the front, I leaned over her torso and spanked her with my open hand. “Now get up and move over to the bed. We’ve only just begun.”
There’s something to be said for spanking a naked woman while fully clothed, makes you feel dominant and all, but there’s something masterful about being partly nude, too. I’m not quite sure what it is. Maybe it’s just to show that I’m so much in control that I don’t need to cover up. Whatever. I dropped my pants and stepped out of them. I did the same with my bikini-style underwear and just in time too as my penis was pushing frantically against the cloth. Once again, I was seized with an overwhelming desire to plunge my prick deep inside her body. But until she apologized, that was off the table.
I told her to lie on the bed spreadeagle over a pillow, her butt in the air. I bent over her bare butt and slapped it several times with my cock. It didn’t hurt much, I knew, but it’s a great way of showing just who is in control. Then I moved forward to her mouth, and pushed her lips open. “Suck it,” I said, sliding my engorged penis inside. I wouldn’t stay there long. That could wait. “Sorry yet?” I whispered, making my way back toward Amy’s throat.
She considered, then murmured something that sounded like “no.” I held up my phone. She tried to speak again, more vigorously this time, but I snapped a picture of her giving me head anyway and showed it to her. Then I pulled out. “More spanking,” I said cheerfully, and picked up the exercise rope. I doubled its ends over and held them in my hand, exposing the center of the rope. I’m told it hurts quite a bit. Oh well. “Count,” I commanded Amy. “Fifteen strokes.”
“One—ow! Two. Three. Four. Six—”
Her hand was sneaking toward her pussy, which was wetter than ever. I slapped it away. “Let’s try that counting again,” I suggested. “I’ll start you off. One,” I counted as I brought the rope down hard on her vulnerable backside. “Two—”
“Three…four…five…”
I spanked her rapidly as she counted. This time she went directly from ten to twelve, so we started again. My intention is never to draw blood, but believe me when I say her ass was beginning to look seriously red. “Better get with the program,” I told her as I started again at one, “or you’re not going to be able to sit down again for a couple of days.” Smack, smack. “Maybe a week.”
“Four, five, six,” she counted through gritted teeth as I upped the pace, beating out a staccato rhythm against her bare butt. I gently stroked my hard-on, pretty sure I could hold back till she was ready. Pretty sure. Being in control of a beautiful nude woman…well, I had to be careful that my rocks didn’t shoot off till I was ready. “…Seven, eight, nine.”
“Louder,” I said, bringing the rope between her legs and sliding it along her pussy lips. I thought about another photo—and a lovely one it would have been—but didn’t want to take the time. My arm jerked the rope up and back down on her vulnerable cheeks.
“Ten. Eleven. Twelve,” Amy counted, turning from side to side as if she thought she could escape me.
“Say it like you mean it,” I suggested.
“Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen!” my wife called out. I gave her two more hard ones just to remind her that we weren’t done yet and then set the rope down. Back to my hand.
“I counted for you!” Amy wailed, her face burrowing into the bed as my cupped hand smacked her naked ass. “I did what you wanted! Why do you keep doing this?”
I rained down a barrage of blows before I deigned to respond. “Listen,” I said. “You misbehaved. You need correction. You brought this on yourself, sweetheart. You knew this would happen. Do I let you get away with things like this?” Gently I reached my arm forward and found her right nipple. Squeezed it, hard. She winced. We don’t usually do much nipple play—well, I’m not sure “play” is the right word—so when I get to it she knows I mean business. “Or are you saying you’re innocent? Because that won’t fly, you know.”
She was silent. Well, that was all right. I lifted my hand and gave her a sharp stroke just to the side of her ass crack. “Ow!” she yelped. “I—I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—I—”
Smack. “You didn’t mean to what?” I asked sternly. My hand was stinging, though I was sure it was nothing compared to the sorry state of her behind. Smack, smack.
“I—I—” She was groping for words. I helped her along with a few more spanks. “I—”
“You were inconsiderate,” I said. Smack.
“I was—inconsiderate,” she whispered.
I squeezed her nipple again. “You didn’t follow through with what you said you’d do. I had to pick up the pieces. Was that acceptable behavior?” My cock twitched. God, how I wanted her. I brushed my other hand lightly against her pussy. Felt like she wanted me, too.
“It wasn’t—acceptable,” she said, her voice stronger. “It wasn’t okay.” She rocked back so her cunt was pushing harder against my palm. I jerked it away and gave her a quick spank, but I could tell we were almost there. The fight was rapidly going out of her.
“I’m glad to hear you say that,” I said smoothly. “And now you are—” I let the words hang in the air between us, my hand resting threateningly on her raw ass cheek. “There’s more where that came from,” I whispered, leaning close, when she didn’t respond immediately.
“I’m—sorry,” she said in a voice almost too low to hear. “I’m sorry. I—I—I don’t know what got into me.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Ulf. Thank you for the…corrections.”
“I’m glad you’re sorry,” I said. Deftly I gave her one last spank and then turned her over. Her naked body twitched. She reached for her dripping genital area, then thought better of it. “May I, Ulf?” she asked, a plaintive note in her voice, and I knew she had been fully primed and was ready to be taken.
I nodded. She sighed deeply as her fingers connected with her clit. I stood bending over her for a tick or two, admitting the view. Then I lowered my face gently till my tongue had made contact with her pussy lips. “I’m going to eat you out,” I whispered. “You’re going to come so hard…”
Her only response was a grunt. Smiling, I slid my finger into her hole. It was crowded, what with my mouth and two sets of fingers, but boy it was delicious. She stroked her little love button, moaning ever louder, while I licked her slit and my finger pumped rhythmically in and out of her vulva. That come-hither motion always manages to drive Amy wild. It must have been painful, lying on her reddened and raw butt. I wasn’t sorry, but I was glad to see that it wasn’t keeping her from having fun.
Her back arched and I knew she was close. I thrust my tongue up toward her fingers, which dropped away to let me finish her off. My face was covered with pussy juices—just the way I like it. “You’re going to come so hard,” I said again, this time directly into her cunt—
--and then she was coming, her pussy pulsating around my finger and her muscles contracting under my tongue. No such thing as a fake orgasm in our house—her body gives her away, and I for one am mighty pleased about that. I felt like a cowboy, riding her like a bronco as she twisted and moaned in the throes of pleasure, and all I had to do was hang on tight. I felt her grab a lock of my hair and pull my mouth deeper into her pussy, as if we were one. We remained like that for I don’t know how long, till her body began to relax and the contractions started to ease off.
“My turn,” I said cheerfully, standing up straight and proudly displaying my swollen cock for my wife’s enjoyment. My gosh, I was ready to shoot right then and there: spanking followed by pussy licking sends me to the height of arousal. I plunged my prick deep inside Amy’s cunt, pulled most of the way out, pushed back in. It felt heavenly. I repeated two, three, four times—look who’s counting now!—while she flexed her pussy around my cocksicle, aiming to squeeze out an orgasm as mind-blowing as hers had been. “Yes, yes, yes,” she said—
--and I couldn’t hold back any longer. With a grunt I pulled my dick out of my gorgeous wife’s gorgeous pussy and aimed at her naked breasts. There it was! Strings of come shot out of my penis, landing on Amy’s belly, then spurting onto her tits. I moaned. Shouted. Fuck, it felt good. On my God, it felt good. There’s something about an orgasm when it follows a spanking… Amy’s hand joined me on my still-stiff cock, sending me into an even higher state of arousal. It was almost…painful. But I’m sure it wasn’t as painful as Amy’s ass.
At last the pulsating subsided and my panting stopped. The final drips of semen dribbled out of my cock—landing, I noticed with satisfaction, right on her slit. I stripped off my shirt and slid up to cuddle against her, my come and her pussy juice acting as lubricants between our bodies. I turned Amy so we were facing each other. Then I kissed her, a long, lingering kiss while I gently touched her ass, just as a reminder.
“Wow,” she said.
“That was nice,” I said, “wasn’t it?”
“Wonderful,” she said, pressing more closely against me.
“As always,” I said, and I meant it.
We lay there for a minute or so, not speaking. I felt the sensation of my erection going down, which believe it or not is one of my favorite feelings. Second only to the feeling of it going up. Well, the feeling of coming has them both beat…“How are you feeling?” I asked.
Amy slid her body against me. My cock stirred, and she smiled and kissed me. “I feel…loved,” she said.
“The whole thing?” I asked.
“The whole thing.” Amy’s eyes closed. “Thank you. I guess I needed that.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. “And I hope you’ve learned something tonight. Something about doing what you say you’ll do. Something about not inconveniencing me.” I paused. “Did you learn something?”
Amy said nothing at first, but I could see the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.
“Maybe,” she said.
