A Polaroid of Kristina, Part 4 - Sex Stories

A Polaroid of Kristina, Part 4

... that would make most girls my age envious. Small dimples, the kind I think of for some reason as “violin dimples” just above her buttocks, And between her thighs I could see her pussy, visibly wet, the lips parted and delicate. I could see her puckered anus as well, and I wondered if she liked being touched there, considering how she had rubbed mine several times the day before, once during a blowjob, and once during sex, to make me cum. As I drank in the sight of her loveliness, black stockings extending halfway up her thighs, held in place by a garter belt, she twisted a bit to look up at me. “Michael [she always called me ‘Michael’ even though everyone else in the world calls me ‘Mke’], I deserve punishment,” she said earnestly, with a twinkle in her bottomless green eyes. “Don’t you want to spank me? To leave your handprint on my buttocks? To make me remember to behave appropriately? To feel me squirm in your lap as your palm makes my buttocks red and hot?” And as soon as she said that, all of it was true. I wanted everything that she offered. I raised my right hand, looking back and forth between her ass and her eyes (her head was still raised, looking at me, challenging me). I hesitated only a moment and brought my hand down on her right buttock. I had held back, not knowing how hard to hit her. I was nervous about hurting her, and the slap was weak. “Oh, you can do better than that, with all of those muscles…” she offered with a mocking lilt to her tone. I brought my ...

... hand down harder, this time on her left buttock. It was better than the first one, but still not as hard as it needed to be, from her reaction. Still, she put her head down, and breathed out quietly as my hand made contact with her pert ass. I let it linger after the second slap, and took the opportunity to rub her buttock. Resolving to do better, I raised my hand again and slapped her right buttock again. This time I put more force into it, and there was no mocking, “you can do better, can’t you?” reaction. She moaned a little into the couch cushion in which she had buried her face. Her skin was elastic and there was a pleasant “give” and resistance to her ass when my hand made contact with it. I slapped her other cheek again, as hard as I had the first one, and she gasped. I worried that I had hit her too hard, especially when I saw my red handprint on her other cheek from the first real slap. But then I felt her squirm in my lap, and I realized she was pressing her pussy against my body, trying to pleasure herself along with the spanking. My cock stirred a little underneath her, even though it had been only minutes since I had cum. At eighteen, this wasn’t anything unusual to me, since it seemed that I was often a walking erection. At forty-three, remembering the scene, the thought of recovering so quickly made me envious of my younger self. I spanked her again and again, raining stinging slaps down on her beautiful, reddening ass, and her squirming and moaning increased. I ...