Confessions of a Motherfucker Ch. 05 - Sex Stories

Confessions of a Motherfucker Ch. 05

... was happy to answer its call.

I stepped to her left side, the switch in my good right hand - I'm so perfectly right-handed that if I were to lose my left arm through some accident, if it wasn't for its value as a counterweight I wouldn't miss it - and measured the distances. I laid the switch across her ass, just above thegluteal sulcus, that line where the roundness of her ass met the top of her thighs, right, in other words, where she sat.

I carefully measured the distance so that the narrowest part of the switch, right at the end, hung past about her ass a few inches.

"Now," I said, "this is just a taste but I expect you to hold on to your ankles until I tell you to release them."

When she said nothing I added, "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, David," she said, her voice slightly strained from the awkward position she was holding, "I understand."

My mother has a good ass. It's a mature ass, just a bit oversized but there's nothing wrong with that, now, is there. It's an ass that would fit well on Sophia Loren or Marilyn Monroe or even Jayne Mansfield, one of those sex objects from the 1950s and 1960s who were all, well, buxom is the word that was popular back then. There's a hint of softness, the first suggestions of the cellulite that would doubtless come. A very good ass indeed, and it was offered to me so perfectly I wanted to stripe it.

But I didn't.

"A single stroke, Mom," I said softly, lightly caressing her ass with the switch, "just something ...

... to think about while you sit and we eat. But if you release your ankles then you won't get what I promised later."

Somehow I knew it was important to get not only her acceptance, but her request. It was one of those things I knew without learning, something down at the DNA level.

"Are you frightened?" I asked.

"Yes," she said in that oddly strained voice.

"Do you want me to do it?" I asked.

She took a deep breath, a long inhalation, well, as long as her position allowed.

"Yes," she said, "please."

I pressed the switch into her skin, denting it, forcing her to lean back a little to maintain her balance.

I held that pose, the pressure a reminder for both of us what was to come, for a long five count.

One Mississippi.

Two Mississippi.

Three Mississippi.

Four Mississippi.

Five Mississippi.

When I pulled the switch away she rocked slightly catching her balance again, and I could see those big muscles, hergluteus maximus tighten, changing the shape of her ass slightly.

I waited.

I didn't count but she held that tension for what seemed to be a very long time.

With a sigh, she relaxed.

swish CRACK

The switch made a very satisfactory hissing sound as I swung it and that sudden meatySMACK to be onomatopoetic about it might be the most rawly sexual sound I ever heard.

She rocked forward a bit and made a high-pitched, almost whistling sound, but she hung onto her ankles.

The welt I raised was instantaneous, very distinct, and ...