It is, without question, the one singular thing I do to Leigh that takes my breath away without fail.
I have finger fucked her to, over an evening, half a hundred squirting orgasms that found me standing naked in front of a washing machine at 1AM with bed linens so soaked it’s almost comical. There is the anal sex that makes her inner ass slut come out from hiding and spew obscenities at me as I bitch slap her cunt with my testicles. Or when I fuck her doggy style with both of my hands holding her head back via their controlled stranglehold on her arched throat.
She’s swallowed my cock and its eruption with vigor. Made the blood vessels in my eyelids burst with the intensity of an expertly oiled hand. My alter ego the next day, known as Kinky The Racoon, has elicited more than my fair share of “What the fuck happened to you?” inquiries from friends and co-workers.
Bound and chained. Folded like an origami frog. Begged me to allow her to come. Again. Then thanked me profusely for each and every one.
So what is it that always makes my eyes distant and roll back in my head, often accompanied by a low moan?
Slowly sliding the last lower garment she has on over and off her stretched, presented ass. Nothing else is in the same zip code as that cock strainer.
Many times it’s a pajama bottom when those “I’m awake? Now what?” early morning trysts happen. In the same vein, when she peels off her jeans I insist she face away from me and take her time so I can watch and savor that left-right-left of the waistband sliding over her hips. But when it was just The Panties™…
…let’s just say I savored the moment.
It took me at least a minute, if not more, to slide them over her taut, tight ass cheeks. Standing up is nice, lying down a bitch in that it’s not as easy, especially when she was over my knee. She needed to raise her hips up…
…yes. Fuck yes. Oh fuck yes.
Placing my thumbs under the waistband I stroked its length. Back and forth, again and again, each pass hooked deeper and deeper until the satin edge met the crook of my thumb.
Now it was showtime.
With the speed of a stoned glacier my thumbs started to pull on the elastic. Skin peeked at me, whispering excited hints at what treasures lay beneath, waiting to be kissed by candlelight and then by the palms of my hands. Inch by inch time stood still as her lower back flowed uphill, beginning to reveal her delicious ass. I savored the way her skin felt against my thumbs, my eyes focused hard on the peep show I was creating.
The moment when the valley between her cheeks began to appear about killed me. The juxtaposition of the silkiness of once milky white flesh, now red from hundreds of violent blows, against the satin sheen of the white panties was unnerving.
My favorite moment was almost at hand (literally). When the waistband reached the widest, highest arched aspect of the sweep of her ass and hips and started to gather. It bunched, almost as if it wanted to fight back against being removed. The elastic tensed, stretched and wrinkled from the snail’s pace strain I subjected it to.
The tension was unbearable. My pulse raced, eyes flared. A swallow of all the secretions in my mouth so I didn’t drown from ecstasy was the only sound either of us made until…
“Yessssssss….” escaped more a hiss than an exclamation as the gathered waist seam snapped over the crest, revealing almost of the battered and blistered Nirvanna that was Leigh’s ass.
That got me. I sighed loudly at the vision now unveiled on my lap. The remaining hidden inches of ass cheek cascaded into view. With a final tug or two The Panties™ gathered helplessly around Leigh’s ankles. A few awkward kicks and she was free of their impedance.
Fuck, what a sight her red ass were.
The candlelight more than likely made them even less blistered in appearance than they probably were due to how their flames were kissing her alabaster skin with warm hues. She looked radiant, stunning, erotic as fuck. The plaid skirt tightly gathered around her waist, the over the knee white stockings flutter kicked and the most magnificently displayed bare ass was in between.
My fingers grazed over the still hot skin, flaring out to encompass as much of her as I could with each gentle stroke. A study in contrast from how the same had been treating the same so violently. Her flesh was velvety, soft, subtle and begging to be blistered without the benefit of any shred of uniform left to protect it.
“Fuck baby, your ass looks amazing” escaped my lips, still stroking each curved mound softly with slow, steady circles. The same motions that preceded the beginning of each new level of spanking. She knew that, so even though I was being so nice, complimentary, soothing with touch, praising with words, giving her a chance to relax…
…she couldn’t enjoy it.
And you know what? I knew she couldn’t. She knew this sensation, this pace. So even when I did everything but be cruel and viscous, she couldn’t relax.
Evil mother fucker, aren’t I? I killed her with kindness. And just like the tension I endured watching her ass being unveiled, so too did she suffer tension’s wrath.
Waiting for it. Waiting for the moment when my hand would not be touching her, stroking her, caressing her ass cheeks. When it wasn’t there.
When she didn’t know from one second to the next when that hand would be raised high, firmed solid and then brought down on her raw, naked, bruised flesh with an intensity like she had never known before.
Like I did with a smile and a CRACK! that would have woken the dead.