Too Darn Hot

By: Jonathan Quincy Graves

“You know what I would like to do?”

“No, John, tell me,” Mary said.

We were lying on her bed, me in my boxers, her in her panties.  It was a hot day, and the walls of her apartment baked in the sun all afternoon.  The window air conditioner wheezed away, but there was not a chance in hell of it keeping the temperature at a comfortable level.  The oscillating fan on the dresser gave the illusion of relief as it turned towards us, but it was only a deception that swept on by.  These conditions provided a perfect excuse for lying nearly naked on a bed in the late afternoon next to your fiancée.

“I would really like to take you across my knees and spank that perfect little bottom of yours.”

Mary does have a perfect ass, and that judgment comes after years of frequent and painstaking ass assessments.  Oh, I can enjoy a nice bosom, and I love shapely legs, but the female ass… that’s my specialty.  You might even say I am an ass connoisseur.  That is not Mary’s only physical attraction for me.  The rest of her body is also nearly perfect—her nose a little crooked because of a sledding accident when she was five—but other than that, in my humble and unbiased opinion, perfection.

We might have been having wild, passionate sex, that is what we often did in our free time on the bed here or at my place, but in the words of Cole Porter, “It’s too darn hot.”  So, we were just relaxing, hands roving at random across each other’s bodies.  Well, my hand was perhaps a little less random in its movements, because, as I say, I am a connoisseur of fine, female asses.

“You would, would you?” Mary answered.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, spanking.  “Yes, I would.  You’ve been a naughty girl, lying scantily clad on this bed with a man who isn’t even your husband.  What would your mother say?  More important, what would she do?”

“Well, I expect she’d say something like, ‘You go, girl,’” and she laughed.  “My mom’s no prude, and we are both consenting adults.  Furthermore, she likes you, though I cannot imagine why.”

“See there?  Smart mouth.  That’s another reason I should spank you.  Actually, I should spank your mother for raising you with such a libertine attitude.”

Mary did laugh at that.  “Now that I’d like to see.  Mom’s no little lamb.  If you tried anything with her, she’d have you begging for mercy inside of two minutes.”

Mary’s mother is a petite woman, maybe 5’1” and a size two, but she has a level of confidence and a presence that make her seem much larger.  Even though I stand a shade North of six feet, Mary is probably right in her assessment of the outcome of any confrontation I might have with her mom.  Which may be why I’ve never been stupid enough to cross her.  Not that there has ever been a reason to cross her, I’m just sayin.

Now, where was I?  Oh yeah, spanking the perfect woman’s ass.  “So, what do you think?  Ready to pay the consequences of your numerous and egregious acts of naughtiness?”

“I might be, but if you spank me, I get to spank you back at a later place and time of my choosing.  Agreed?”

“Sounds fair,” I said and got up to sit on the side of the bed.  “Now bring that classic tush of yours over here and lay it in the time-honored position over my knees.”

Mary giggled, climbed out of bed on the other side and walked around to me.  “I see that someone is excited about this little maneuver of yours,” she said, taking hold of my cock through my boxers.  My little man was standing at attention like the guidon bearer at a formal parade.  “Are you going to be poking me in the side with that dangerous weapon throughout the coming chastisement?  Hardly seems fair.  I won’t be able to return the favor when it’s my turn, unless I get a plastic simulacrum to wear for the occasion.”

“Oh, and I suppose that you are not armed in this confrontation?  These little nibs,” I said reaching up to caress one of her hard nipples, “could put a man’s eye out, if he weren’t careful.  But, enough stalling.”  I reached around her waist and scooped her over my knee.

“You beast, you,” Mary said, putting the back of her right hand to her forehead in the style of Mary Pickford in the old silent movie days.  “Will no one save me from this villainous villain?”

“Keep it up, my dear.  The railroad tracks are just down the block, and I’ve got a coil of rope in the trunk of my car.  Don’t think you can appeal to my better nature, when it comes to collecting the rents, I have no better nature.  Muahaha.”  All I needed was a long mustache to twirl.

Throughout this silly interchange, my hand rested on Mary’s panty-clad rear, reveling in the shape and texture of the flesh beneath the soft, loose-fitting cotton.  Her panties are plain, white, boy shorts.  I love her in these because they conceal what lies beneath in a tantalizing manner.  In this hot weather, they also look cooler than the briefer, formfitting styles (I love her in those too).

Holding my breath, I inserted my thumbs into the waistband and eased it over the swelling mounds to halfway down her thighs.  Mary raised up a little to facilitate this unveiling, then settled back into position,  sighing and wriggling to get comfortable.

My hand glided across the smoothest, most pleasingly-plump pair of cheeks ever seen by man.  The afternoon heat raised a light coat of perspiration that made her skin gleam in the room’s dim lighting.  And this close, I could smell the faint aroma that is my Mary.

I wanted to rub and caress, tickle and play with these cheeks for the rest of the day, but even more, I wanted to spank them from a light flesh tone to a rosy pastel.

“Prepare yourself, my dear, your penance is about to begin,” I said, and delivered a light smack.

“Should I kick and squeal now?” Mary asked.  “You must let me know, because if that is as hard as you plan to spank, I will have to fake my responses… a lot.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said, and delivered a firmer smack.

“Better,” she said.  “I didn’t feel it, but at least I could hear the faint echo off the wall.  Not complaining, you understand, just don’t expect me to give you such a wimp-ass whuppin when it’s my turn.”

I gave her another spank.  The hardest one yet, but not hard.  I was having trouble keeping from laughing at Mary’s responses—not appropriate for a stern disciplinarian in the performance of his duties.

With some struggle, I got my mind back on the task before me, and began spanking with a purpose.  Still not hard, but at a regular cadence that was producing actual color.

As the area turning pink spread, Mary did begin to squeal and kick her feet.  The whole scene was so damned stimulating that I almost came in my shorts from rubbing against her side as she moved.  Fortunately, I managed to not make things all sticky between us, but it was a near thing.

After a few minutes, thirty or so smacks, counting the inept warm up and the gradual cool down, I stopped spanking and bent to place my lips where my hand had been.  Her damp skin was warm and glowed a color just short of red.

I didn’t want to, but after a few minutes, I helped Mary up to sit next to me on the bed.  She squirmed as her ass met the mattress, but wrapped her arms around me and kissed me hard.

After that, well, while it may have been too darn hot to begin with, we managed to make it a good ten degrees hotter in short order.

END

Next in series: “Even Hotter”  Spanking F/M, Female Led Marriage (FLM)

Copyright © 2019 by Jonathan Quincy Graves. All right reserved.  Please do not repost or use for any commercial purpose without written approval from the author.