by Frank Martinet
Wendy's this gorgeous chick from Australia. She's got short-cropped hair so pale blonde it's almost white. With her startling blue eyes and cute grin, she's so hot it makes your heart stop.
Wendy works as a barista at this jazz-themed coffee bar on Pontiac Avenue. She's unbelievably cool. She's into all sorts of independent and underground bands and she loves going to midnight movies. She's smart, too. She can debate the theories of Kierkegaard and Nietzsche with the best of them, but she reads comic books and likes splatter flicks. (She's a huge fan of Peter Jackson's early work.)
She dresses in what I call 'sexy casual'. Just regular clothes, but on her they look like a million bucks. Basically anything she wears looks stunning on her fantastic body. Most days it's ratty jeans and a tight-fitting shirt or sweater, but even if she wore a parka I doubt it would hide the bumps of those melons on her chest. I think they had to get an extra-large apron for her at the coffee shop. She's slender but definitely not skinny. She's athletically built but other than Yoga and the occasional surfing venture, I haven't seen her doing much in terms of sport.
She carries herself like an athlete, though. She's slightly tall for a girl at five-eight, though her body seems more squat than lanky. She gives off this tough-girl vibe, a little of a Lesbian air. Combined with her amazing good looks and whip-smart brain, that scares off most guys.
Me? I guess I'm just too dumb to know better. If I had half a brain I'd have known she was miles out of my league. But I kept at her, buying coffee I didn't even drink just for an excuse to see those perfect teeth smiling at me. I hung out at the coffee shop with a book on Heidegger hoping I didn't seem pretentious.
It worked. We started talking, and next thing I knew she was inviting me to a Rocky Horror showing! We went and it was Crazy with a capital C. People dressed up in costume, make-up, in drag, the works. People throwing toast, shouting out lines, singing, and dancing. Wendy and I mostly watched. She wasn't into that level of involvement, though she did sing along to several of the big numbers. It was my first time and it felt like I'd been transported to another planet.
We had a blast, though. Wendy was awesome to be around, so fun and full of life. She seemed into me, too, I have no idea why. She laughed at my jokes and seemed to like my body. I work construction, so I'm in decent shape, and she liked touching my biceps and leaning against me in the car afterward. We went to an all-night diner and pigged out on crappy food like nachos and chili fries, then went to my place. She suggested it. I was nervous as hell.
My house is a bank repo fixer-upper I got practically for free a few years ago during the housing slump. It was really trashed. The roof leaked, the plumbing didn't work, and there was violent damage everywhere. I practically had to rebuild the thing from scratch. But construction work is seasonal, so I had plenty of free time in the winter to work on it. I even got discounts on supplies from jobs I was working on, and sometimes free leftovers like cans of paint or a perfectly decent sink or toilet someone was replacing with a fancier model. It took me two years and lots of labor, but the place is really nice, now. The bottom line is I could sell the place for a fortune if I wanted to, and I might one of these days. But for now, I live there mortgage free, so what's the rush?
Inside, Wendy started tearing off my clothes the moment we walked through the door. She was so aggressive it turned me on. I knew then I was getting some - none of this will-she or won't-she bullshit - and that gave me more confidence than I normally would have felt with a supermodel-class girl like her. I soon had her out of her clothes and we proceeded to attempt to set several world records in fucking: fastest, hardest, and in the most rooms in one go. She mounted me and I cupped my hands around that perfect ass of hers and hugged her into me with all my strength as I stumbled from room to room, looking for a good place to stop. She didn't want to be put down, so I kept wandering, and we finally did it up against a wall, Basic Instinct style.
Hours and several orgasms later, after we'd dozed for a while, I woke up to find her naked form slinking over me. She was biting me, little nibbles that sent my exhausted cock into half-standing position. I was stretched out on my bed, the covers pushed off, and she laid herself across my legs, the ball of her ass seductively above my crotch.
"Come on, baby," she cooed. "Spank me. Spank me hard!"
I'd never done such a thing and at any other time if you'd asked me I wouldn't have even known what to do, but at that moment, with such a seductive vixen showing me her silky smooth ass, I didn't hesitate. I sat up, pulled her across my lap, and started smacking those rounded cheeks.
Wendy's reaction was amazing. I dimly worried if I was hurting her, but the harder I slapped the more she sighed and melted against me. Her legs spread wider and wider with each spank and I saw her pink sex was juicing like a squeezed lemon. She loved this!
What surprised me was how much I loved it, too. My cock swelled into an iron bar, so stiff it was poking her in the stomach and making her giggle. Her writhing body against me was practically a punishment, but I didn't care. It felt glorious. I spanked and spanked, loving the way her ass bounded under my palm. Her butt was so firm and smooth and it had such a plump roundness that I adored whacking it. I thrilled at the steamy warmth and rosy blush of her rich flesh, and she seemed to delight in me hurting her.
"Harder!" she growled. "Put some real muscle into it!"
I slapped her ass so hard my fingers hurt and the loudness of the wallop alarmed me, but Wendy grunted and moaned as though I was fucking her. I spanked her harder and harder. I slapped her in a flurry of blows that left us both breathless, then spanked her slowly, a hard strike every ten seconds or so. She loved it.
When she was ready, she rotated herself so she was aligned with me and took me inside her and we both saw stars for several glorious minutes. It was the most fantastic fuck I've ever had. She orgasmed at least twice before I spurted.
I lay back exhausted, thinking that was it, but Wendy was up going through stuff next to the bed. She was bent over and even in the limited pre-dawn light I could see the brilliant pink glow of her ass. I vaguely wondered what she was doing, but never in a million years would I have predicted her turning around with the leather belt from my jeans in her hand.
She handed it to me with a hungry grin, her eyes shining. She stretched herself out on the end of the bed, legs hanging down, red ass up. "Come on," she said. "Do it."
I stared at her, aghast. "Do what?"
I told you I'm stupid.
Maybe I have an excuse in that it was four in the morning and I'd just fucked my brains out, but I didn't have the faintest idea what she was wanting me to do. Was I supposed to tie her up with the belt?
"Whip me!"
Now the wheels started turning. I went through shock, puzzlement, a brief bit of revulsion, and then all those reactions were overwhelmed by curiosity and lust. I got up and stood on one side of her. It took me a moment to figure out how to handle the belt. It was too long to hold properly, but folding it in half didn't work at all. I finally wrapped the buckle end around my hand several times until there was a two-foot length dangling. Then I swiped that through the air so that the flat leather smacked across Wendy's pert little rump.
The snap of leather against flesh was like a gunshot. I thought I'd hit her way too hard, but then she started giggling! So I started to really lay it on, lashing those beautiful buttocks with stroke after blistering stroke.
Wendy writhed prettily on the bed, her hips and buttocks dancing in a way that was a siren call to my cock. To my astonishment, the limp and defeated thing woke up and started to rise again! It loved the sight of Wendy's tight rump jiggling with belt spanks and the crimson streaks blossoming across her fair flesh. Within a minute my prick was stone hard and ready, but Wendy and I were both enjoying the whipping far too much to stop. I knew she was having fun because she had slipped her hand down between her spread legs and was openly masturbating while the belt kept stinging her bottom. She was groaning and panting happily, and she kept shouting, "Harder! More! Again! Make me feel it!"
I did my best, but damn that woman can take a spanking! She took every stripe as though it was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and wiggled her ass for more. I finally had to stop and fuck her just because I was about to pop. I took her doggie style right over the end of the bed. I could feel her hot ass pressed against my belly as I pumped her. It was amazing.
Later she told me that the belt was too thin and light. In the morning light I saw she was right: it really hadn't done much damage. Her butt was mostly red and hardly striped at all.
"Sometime I want you to really whip me," she whispered in my ear as we showered.
I figured she was just saying that to make me hot, which it did, but I was mostly keying on the fact that her statement implied she wanted to see me again. That got me really excited and our shower lasted until the hot water ran out.
During the next week I thought about her, and the spanking, all the time. I marveled at what had happened, and at times I wondered if I'd imagined it. It seemed surreal. Wendy didn't say anything about it to me, except to kiss me and tell me she had had a wonderful time. A few days later she asked if she could come over that night and fix me supper.
"I make a mean spaghetti. I'll bring everything. You won't have to do a thing."
"Sure," I said. "Can I at least contribute a French baguette?"
"Deal." She kissed me on the lips and whispered in my ear, "I'll bring some toys."
I didn't know what that meant, but I just grinned as though I knew what she was talking about. She showed up about eight. I had a baguette ready, sliced in half and slathered with butter and garlic. She started the pasta boiling and made plum-sized meatballs with chopped onion, garlic, and spices, and cooked them on the stove along with a delicious smelling tomato sauce. I put the bread in the oven to toast and a while later we feasted. It was heaven.
Wendy ate like a real person, and I think she had more than her fair share of the yummy merlot.
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