Tag Archives: spanking
The struggle ended at the couch. She whined and flailed as I dragged her across the apartment by her arm, but when I sat down and pulled her onto them lap she was suddenly still and quite.
My hand naturally went to her hair. No matter how she laid, her posture could always be improved. I moved under her and guided her by the hair until she was in the ideal position. Her waist directly over my lap, her chest and arms leaning on the couch cushion next to me, and her knees resting on the other side of me. This pushed her ass high enough for me to get a good angle and made sure that as much of our bodies were touching as possible.
David didn’t remember turning his alarm clock off, but as he yawned and stretched that Saturday morning he decided it was probably a good idea he hadn’t set it. After the week he had, he needed a little extra rest. Plus, it was the weekend – weren’t you supposed to sleep in?
He turned in his instinctual morning movement to check his phone and found a crisp sheet of white paper folded over it.
He opened the note and saw the neat script of his girlfriend Emily.
I hope this doesn’t come as a shock – and it shouldn’t if you have any awareness at all about our relationship over the last few months – but, I’m leaving you.
The first page of a story was stapled to the back of a paper on economic reform in post soviet Russia.
Jason wasn’t sure if the story was for him or the professor or simply a mistake. He assumed the students knew that Jason was the one who really marked all the papers. Hell, he gave the lectures for the majority of the semester. Big name professors don’t do very much, teaching assistants do all the real work.
Still, the single page was like nothing Jason had ever seen in the context of Russian history, or more accurately contemporary Russian economic history. This was a snippet of a dirty dream. A little fragment of someone’s fantasy.
Title image by Face It. CC BY-NC 2.0
The thing was, she was young. Very young. Certainly legal, but still, I really should have been ashamed of myself. I was a thirty-two year old man! It started out so simply though. She sent me a picture because I wrote something silly like, if a picture is worth a thousand words than a thousand words must be worth a picture.