Erotic Stories and True Confessions

 

Sandy Got Spanked
She has a welted ass and a wet pussy. - By Sandy

            I wasn’t the type of person that normally picked up random guys in bars.  In fact, I normally didn’t even go to bars.  However, I was celebrating.  My divorce from the cheating rat-bastard was final, and I needed to drink heavily in order to drown the lingering feelings of failure.  My friend Angie joined me, but bailed after an hour and two measly glasses of wine.

            I abandoned the wine for tequila after she left, not planning on driving myself home.  After a couple of shooters, the male bar patrons were starting to look pretty good.  I hoped I would get laid tonight without too much effort.  It had been a long time since I’d had sex—long before the rat-bastard had crawled out of our house and into the bed of that tramp.

            I spun my shot glass idly, thinking I should probably take it easy on the tequila, or I wouldn’t be doing anything tonight except heaving on my shoes.

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            “Hi.”

            The voice surprised me and I turned to see a man sitting next to me.  I grinned.  Normally, I would have sneered at any attempt at bar conversation, but his was a special occasion.  I was trying to get picked up.  He wasn’t bad looking, either.

            “Come here often?” he asked and then laughed before I could roll my eyes and comment.  “Just kidding.  I work here, and I haven’t seen you before, so that was kind of a stupid joke.”

            “Are you working now?” I asked, wondering if he was just being polite, as an employee.

            “No, I just dropped in to say hello to some friends.”  He nodded at the bartender, who nodded back and prepared him a drink.  The perks of working in a bar, I supposed.  I checked him out, and didn’t really bother to be subtle.  He had dark hair, somewhat wavy, and seemed tall, even though it was hard to tell from his seated position.  His eyes were dark and he had a great smile.

            “I’m Kyle,” he said and held out a hand.

            I took it.  “Sandy.”

            “Hi, Sandy.  Why are you here all alone?  Feel free to tell me to mind my own business.  I talk a lot and tend to pry—it comes from bartending.”

            “Shoulder to cry on, and all that?” I asked.

            “Yeah.”

            “Well, no crying for me tonight,” I said and lifted the glass.  “I’m celebrating my divorce.”

            I downed the shot, followed by a lick of salt and a tart bite of lime.  Ah, paradise.

            “Celebrating is a lot nicer than crying,” Kyle said and grinned.

            The bartender set down his drink and Kyle ordered another for me.  When it was set before me, I said, “This is my last one, or I’ll pass out.  I’m not quite ready to be done celebrating.”

            “You plan to move on to other forms of celebrating?”

            “You bet I do,” I said and let my eyes slide over him blatantly.  Nice muscles.  I definitely wouldn’t boot Kyle out of bed.  But first, I needed to get him there.

            “What did you have in mind?” he asked, right on cue.

            I leaned forward conspiratorially.  “Sex,” I whispered loudly.  “I plan to fuck that bastard right out of my hair.”

            Kyle grinned.  “Have someone in mind, or can anyone volunteer?”

            “Hmmm, I never thought to ask for volunteers.”  I turned and surveyed the crowd.  “You’re a bartender.  What’s the best way to get someone to take you home and screw your brains out?”

            “You’re a woman.  All you have to do is ask,” Kyle said dryly.

            “Okay, I’m asking,” I said, turning back to look at him.  I mentally gave thanks for tequila, because I never would have been able to do it sober.  “Will you?”

            “Absolutely,” Kyle said and knocked his drink back.  I downed the last tequila and grabbed my purse.

            Kyle’s place was close enough to the bar to walk, but we took his sedan, thankfully, because my heels would have destroyed my feet.  His apartment was clean and organized.

            “Another drink?” he asked as I sat on the couch.

            I shook my head, and even that slight motion made me feel woozy.

            “No.  I’ll be sick.  I don’t drink that often.”

            Kyle poured himself one and took a sip before joining me on the couch.  I felt a bit nervous when he put his arm around me, but I wasn’t there to play hard to get, so I leaned over and pressed my lips against his.  The kiss was sweet, with just enough tongue to be interesting.  I moved closer and opened up a bit, wanting him to get the hint.

            Kyle did.  His hands made quick work of undressing me and I tugged his shirt over his head.  He had just the right amount of hair on his chest, and the perfect amount of muscles.  I ran my hands over his body and down to press my palm against the bulge of his pants.

            He moaned into my mouth—so hot!  I unbuckled his jeans as his hands touched my bare breasts.  My hands dipped into Kyle’s pants and I was pleasantly surprised at the large hardness there.

            He finished undressing me almost roughly.

            “Mmmm,” he said against my lips.  “You a very bad girl, aren’t you?”

            “Very bad,” I agreed, freeing his cock as my other hands pulled at his jeans.  He stood up and kicked them off.  When he sat down again, he maneuvered my naked body in a quick motion that ended with me lying facedown with my stomach on his lap.

            “I think you deserve a spanking,” he said and rubbed his hand over my ass.  I wiggled a bit and giggled.  I probably should have been alarmed, but the alcohol had dulled any sense of danger.

            His palm slapped down lightly and I heard the smack before I felt the sting.  I gasped, surprised at the jolt of pleasure that accompanied the pain.

            “Like that?” he asked.

            “No,” I said, but squirmed and did not try to escape.  Kyle laughed and smacked again, harder this time.  Oh god, it hurt, but it felt good, too.  The third blow was even harder and I moaned, feeling my pussy grow hot and wet.

            Kyle spanked four times, with each blow landing harder and faster.  I could hardly breathe and I felt tears in my eyes, but mostly I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.  His fingers slid over my burning bottom and dipped down to touch the edges of my labia—just a light brush, only enough to make me nearly howl with the need for him to touch me again, harder, deeper, anything!

            Kyle spanked again, and I cried out.  His other arm held me down as I squirmed.  After five solid blows I knew had left welts, I was whimpering and sobbing, but so close to coming I thought the next smack might send me over the edge.

            Kyle’s fingers suddenly plunged deep into my vagina and I screamed aloud as orgasm after orgasm shook me.  His hand moved over my back in a gentle caress, and then he straightened his legs and rolled me onto the floor.  My ass felt like a hive of bees had been set upon it, and the carpet was like sandpaper.

            Kyle spread my legs wide and thrust into me.  I was completely hot, wet, and ready for him.  I nearly screeched as the welts on my ass pressed into the rug with each pounding motion, but even that pain was a turn-on with Kyle hovering over me.  I thought I might come again, even though the idea was incredible.

            I focused on Kyle’s repetitious rhythm against my clit and felt an orgasm building again.  I came moments before he did, and my nails scraped against his back as I screamed again.  Damn, sex had never been so amazing.  I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk tomorrow, and I knew sitting down would be brutal with the welts on my ass, but oh, had it been worth it.


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