The thing about Frankie was she rolled her eyes every time I added something to a conversation. She never laughed at my jokes, and she never looked me in the eye.
I thought it was because I was a little too obvious about my attraction to her. She was brilliant, passionate about food, art, and literature, just like me. She was also ridiculously hot, in a sort of thick field hockey sort of way. Which was one of my favorite ways to be hot.
Powerful legs, huge thighs, chubby cheeks, pouty lips. It was hard not to swoon whenever I was in the same room as her. She probably caught me staring at her tits or licking my lips as I ogled her thighs, because she seemed to hate me.
Or so I thought. I should know better than to trust my instincts.
It was Adam who clued me in. After the three of us got into a debate about the lines between modernism, late modernism, and postmodernism, which ended with Frankie storming off to get a beer after my answer displeased her.
“Jesus, Brian, when are you two going to fuck already?” He laughed. He noticed my surprise and sighed deeply, patting me on the shoulder in pity.
“Our Francis is a poor, bottled-up Virgo, Brian. Just like you are a clueless Pisces. Every time I drag her to a party, her first question is if you’ll be there. If you are, she immediately changes into a skirt. It would be adorable if it weren’t pathetic.”
I looked across the room at Frankie, who seemed to immediately look away from me and focus on the collection of bottles in the cooler.
“I thought she hated me. Plus, I didn’t even know she dated guys,” I said, rummaging through what I knew about my crush.
Adam sighed again. “Well, she does, sometimes. She’s like you, mostly all about pussy unless a very particular kind of guy is around. Not like ‘guy’ guys. Pretty boys with glasses and complicated thoughts about Proust’s place in the canon or whatever. That and she knows you’re kinky. I think she’s a little intimidated.”
I nearly dropped my beer. “She’s intimidated by me? She’s taller than me, and she’s like twice as smart as me. And she’s fucking hot.”
Adam laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, she’s not intimidated by your brains, dipshit. She’s intimidated because Suzy showed her the marks you left on her ass that one time.”
I felt a rush of warmth in my cheeks. Suzy was so pretty and eager. Manhandling her curves was like a Christmas present. I felt my mouth form a cocky smirk. I looked over at Frankie again. She looked away again, tucking her hair behind an ear. She looked nervous, like she was wondering what Adam was talking to me about.
Adam laughed when he saw me watching her. “Well, there it finally is. I feel like I’m smushing two Barbie dolls together. Are you going to do something about it?”
“What, me? Use someone’s crush on me to my advantage?”
Adam rolled his eyes and went off to find some other gossip. I finished my beer and considered my next move.
A few minutes later, I found Frankie by a window, looking at her phone. I stood next to her and waited for her to notice me. She looked surprised for a moment and then annoyed.
“I feel like I pissed you off before,” I said, apologetically. She shrugged and sipped her beer.
“Whatever, I don’t even remember what you said,” she obviously lied. I laughed. Her nervousness, which I once found disheartening, suddenly made me even more attracted to her.
“I feel like I’m always pissing you off, which sucks because I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while.”
She did a sort of double take, then narrowed her eyes at me. “Did fucking Adam tell you to say that?” I laughed.
“I told Adam I have a crush on you, and he said he thought you might have a crush on me, and so, I don’t know, if that’s true, I thought we could–” I couldn’t think of the word.
“What exactly did he say,” she asked, eyes suddenly blazing with anger as she looked around for Adam.
“I don’t know, something about you always putting on a skirt if you know I’m going to be at a party. It doesn’t matter. Is it true? It’s true for me. I’m surprised you never noticed me staring at you or trying to chat you up.”
She shrugged. “You stare at anyone with nice tits and a big ass. I didn’t think I was particularly interesting to you.”
I took the smallest step forward as the music got a little louder. “You have always been particularly interesting to me.”
There was the tiniest flicker of a smile at the corner of her lip. “I guess he told you about Suzy, right?” I shrugged.
“We hooked up the night after she had been at your apartment. She had these huge bruises on her ass and her thighs. Finger-sized marks and big round marks and mean-looking purple and red lines.”
I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Suzy likes to play rough. Those lines were from a cane. She’s a tough girl.”
Frankie’s eyes flashed with jealousy. “I’m tough.”
“I have very little doubt of that,” I said, moving closer. “But can you be good?”
Her jaw trembled. She seemed to fight the answer that came to her lips. “Yes,” she said simply, in a very low whisper, her anger becoming a pout.
I chuckled and reached out for her. She winced, but then softened. I rubbed her cheek, and she pressed it into my palm. “You want to be good,” I whispered, and she nodded emphatically.
I took her chin in my fingers and made her look at me. “You want to be good for me,” I clarified.
She nodded and then kissed my thumb and took it in her mouth. It took a lot to maintain my toughness when she did that. That’s how things can be sometimes; both of you wanting to seem tough.
“Well, we should go then,” I said, slowly extracting my thumb.
“Right now?” She looked around, surprised. I shrugged. “We don’t have to go right now, but I’m not quite ready to call it a night.”
She considered it. “Okay. I mean, yes. I mean, I might as well do it before I have time to talk myself out of it,” she said with a crooked grin.
“My place is just a few blocks away. Maybe we can walk and discuss it,” I offered. She was already looking for her jacket.
The early spring evening air felt electric after the stuffy house party. We walked down the empty street silently for a block or two. I watched her. There were so many strange contrasts in her. How she was tall and powerfully built, but often made herself small and invisible. How she could sometimes be loud and boisterous, but then become shy and timid. How she was often so standoffish, yet in that moment, sucking my thumb, her desires seemed so perfectly obvious.
“So I was thinking we sort of set some clear rules for the evening. I’d like to make out a little and give you a spanking. Nothing crazy. I think that’s a good place to start,” I offered. She put her hands in the pockets of her denim jacket and considered my words.
“I’m up for that. I mean, I’m up for more than that. I know myself. If you spank me, I’m going to want to get fucked,” she said, looking down at the street.
I considered that. “Well, that is an option. I just want to make sure neither of us do anything too fast. Anything we might regret.”
Frankie’s jaw clenched. She stopped walking and dug her hands deeper in her pockets. “I get what you are saying and I appreciate it, but I don’t think we need to take sex off the table unless you really want to. Honestly, spanking is a lot more scary for me. And going home with you. I’ve had a crush on you, I guess, if that’s what you call it. I…” she sighed. She bit her lip. “I’ve liked you for a while, but I didn’t know how to, like, break the ice, I guess. I like you. So, you have to go into this knowing that. So, just don’t-” she started but then paused again and swallowed.
“Don’t what?” I said seriously. I honestly didn’t know what she was going to say.
“Just don’t fuck with me. Don’t hurt me,” she said, her voice breaking a little and her eyes looking away.
I swallowed. “I-what exactly do you mean?”
She shrugged and sighed more deeply. The scars of her past seemed very obvious. “I don’t know. I’m not trying to start anything serious right now, but just don’t fuck me and never call me. Don’t connect with me and never talk to me again. Don’t tie me up and do something weird. Don’t be an asshole. Don’t hurt me,” she said, looking back up and meeting my gaze. The rawness in her red eyes was startling.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. She took in my hesitation, and the smallest grin appeared. “I mean, hurt me. But just my body. You know?”
“I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. I thought you thought I was a dick. I’m not going to ghost on you, no matter what happens tonight. I don’t want to hurt you. Let’s take it one step at a time. No rope. If you want me to stop, just say no. Say stop. No matter what happens or doesn’t happen, I’m going to call you tomorrow. At eleven in the morning.”
Her eyes met mine for a moment, and her crooked grin returned briefly. “Okay. I mean, I know you’re a dick, but kind of in a hot way. A check in tomorrow morning sounds good. I like that. Anyway, that’s your building, right?”
I laughed. “Yes, that’s my building. What, have you been stalking me?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, we know all the same people, dumbass,” she smirked.
I frowned. “Let’s make a fun little rule. Something to show me what a good girl you can be or something that will give me an excuse to turn that pretty thick ass bright red. No profanity while you are in my apartment. Do you think you can handle that?”
Her eyes widened. It struck me how so many of her mannerisms made her seem like an angsty teenager, even though she was a full grown woman. She swallowed and nodded.
“Use your words, Frankie,” I said and my cock hardened when fear flashed in her eyes.
“I won’t curse when I’m in your apartment, Brian,” she said, her eyebrows furling. “Do I call you Brian? Um, ‘Sir’ works for me, I guess. I don’t think I could say ‘master’ with a straight face. There are other words, but, um, they’re a little intense for a first date,” she said, which made her both smirk and blush.
“Oh, this is a date now? I like that,” I said and stepped closer to her. She tightened up. I slipped my hand around her hip and pulled her close to me. The warmth of her body, even through denim, was shocking.
“Let’s use Sir for tonight, then we can see. For our first date,” I said, squeezing her ass a little. She gasped. “Let’s continue this conversation upstairs,” I said, taking her hand and leading her to my apartment building.
She was nervous again, standing awkwardly in the middle of my living room as I got us some water and a little bourbon. She picked up the glass of whiskey and I held her wrist. “Sip. That’s all you’re getting. I want your head on straight,” I explained and she nodded.
We sat on my couch, close enough so that our thighs touched. I smiled at her and she bit her bottom lip. I narrowed my eyes. “So, a spanking. A good old-fashioned spanking. With you over my lap. How does that sound?”
She held her breath for a moment. “Exciting. Scary. Not too hard, right?”
I nodded. “Not too hard, tough girl. We’ll check in every few and spanks and see where we are. How about that?”
Her eyes shone, and she nodded. “That sounds very good. Yes. I agree to a spanking. See, I can use my words.”
“And how would you feel if, during this spanking, I got a little handsy?”
She considered the question. “Define handsy.”
“Since you will be over my lap, I might want to touch your breasts a bit. I’ll be touching your butt, obviously. I would like to touch that whole area, thighs, and so on.”
She nodded. “My tits? You want to touch them?” She asked with a bit of faux innocence in her voice. I nodded. “Like, you’ve been thinking about my tits for a while, right? Imagining what they feel like?” I nodded again.
She pushed out her chest and smiled. “I guess that would be okay. Yes, you can touch my tits. Yes, thighs. Yes, butt. What else?”
I looked at her puffed-out chest and smiled back at her. “How about this, if during this spanking, you want me to touch your pussy, you can ask me.”
Her eyes bulged a little. She seemed like she wanted to ask another question but stopped. I smiled. “I don’t want you to feel pressured either way. Plus, if you do want me to, it will be fun to see you get all flustered working up the nerve to ask,” I laughed.
She clenched her jaw, but then a smile broke through again. She stood up and stretched, pushing her tits out more.
“Okay, that all sounds good. Since I have a skirt on, it should be easy to just push it up, right? But, I mean, I guess it’s better if I just take my panties off now. So you have a clear target. How does that sound?” She asked, eyebrows raised, enjoying my reaction.
“I’m not going to stop you from taking any of your clothes off,” I said, repositioning myself on the couch. It was so interesting to see the flashes of bravery she got and then the pangs of nervousness. It seemed like knowing I liked her tits gave her strength.
“God damn. Frankie, in my living room, talking about taking off her panties. And I thought tonight would be another boring party. It’s like I stumbled into a fantasy,” I said, half to myself. Her smile grew.
I sat back with my drink and crossed my legs. “So take them off then. Slowly,” I said, reading myself for the show.
I could see the bravery and the nervousness battling. I was rooting for her. Instead of going for her skirt, she reached behind her back and her tits pushed out even farther. “I think, actually, I should take off my bra. If we’re going to be wrestling around on the couch.” She unhooked it and then squirmed and shifted until she could pull it through the arm of her t-shirt. She held it up triumphantly and dropped it on the floor.
I could see the shapes of her nipples, hard under the thin material of her t-shirt. I couldn’t hold in the groan. I saw her mark off another little victory.
“Very good, but in my house we don’t throw our clothes on the floor,” I said and watched her eyes widen again.
“Oh, um, sorry… Sir,” she said, testing the word. I stood and grabbed her arm.
“Let’s just take care of that now, then you can finish your little striptease.”
I walked her to the couch, sat down and pulled her over my lap. She was wide eyed and yelped, but let me push and pull her into place. Finally, I had the delicious weight of her on my lap. The heat of her body against me. My hands resting on her gloriously round ass.
I pulled up her skirt and marveled at her thighs. I slipped my fingers over her skin, warming her up, getting a feel for her. She squirmed and her breath quickened.
“All this, all for me. How lucky am I? Now if I can just teach you some manners, you’ll be perfect,” I said, my palm making circles around one of her ass cheeks. I watched her bite her lip, waiting for the first strike.
I gave her a few little swats, not really spanks, just warming up her skin, bringing blood to the surface. Then, when she started to relax, two medium slaps. I watched her reaction.
Her body tightened a bit. She took short measured breaths, leaning on her elbows, closing her eyes, and clenching her jaw. I reached over and pulled her hair, hard. Not a sensual tug, a wake up call.
“No. No closing your eyes. I’m hitting you, okay. That means you have to stay here with me. I don’t want you to brace yourself and bear it, I want you to take it. I want you to feel it.”
It took her a moment for her eyes to focus on me. Like she was coming back from a far away place. She seemed to consider what I said and nodded. I raised my eyebrows, reminding her she should answer with words.
“Yes, Sir. I can do that. I’m sorry I put my bra on the floor. I’ll make sure to respect your apartment,” she said in a voice that seemed different. There was a sweetness to it. Not mocking sweetness. A real softness.
And with that I started spanking her for real. She yelped and squirmed and whined. I remembered Suzy, who was a masochist, and how pain almost brought her to orgasm. Frankie was different. She was enjoying it, but despite the pain. It was all very complicated and my brain was becoming less interested in the subtle difference in power dynamics and more interested in how her soft thighs rubbed against my cock.
I paused, gave her a moment to relax and I let my hands roam. Her t-shirt was old and threadbare and as soft as silk. My fingers moved up her side until they found the delicious weight of her breast.
Her breath caught. I cupped it and moaned at the softness. She looked over her shoulder at me. I can only image the ecstasy she saw on my face. Finally touched what I had coveted for so long and the feeling being even more heavenly than I imagined.
“I like when you check me out. I like seeing the lust in your eyes. I like to think about you using me,” she said, her voice changing again, thick with want.
I purred at that. My other hand finding her other breast. Groping her, enjoying her, using her. “I’ve thought about that very thing many times. But I’m glad I got you over my knee first, so I can make sure I’m not just using a pretty and smart girl, but a well-behaved one,” I said, sighing as I let go of her perfect breasts and started her spanking up again.
After touching her breasts, the timbre of her moans seemed to shift. Her little whines were needy, and her hips rose up to meet my hand. After a particularly hard hit, she lifted her ass up and arched her back like a cat in heat.
“Okay,” she said with a long exhale. “Okay, okay, yes, so you should finger me now,” she said. Ass up and head buried in the cushions of my couch. I chuckled, and she wined and then looked back at me again, hair half covering her eyes. “Don’t laugh! You said I could ask!” She pouted.
I soothed her ass with my hand and stifled another laugh. “I said you could ask, I didn’t say I’d do it,” I said, slipping my hand down her ass and onto the back of her thigh. She whined again, desperately, and her legs parted instinctively. Instead of slipping between them, I pinched her inner thigh. Not too hard, but enough to make her jump.
“Ouch!” She said, her whole demeanor becoming bratty but also horny and pliable.
“Aw, what happened to the tough girl?” I mocked. She stuck out her bottom lip and tried to turn over, but I held her in place.
“You made her all wet and needy and desperate,” she said, in a softer voice. Her eyes were on mine, pleading.
My fingers stayed on her inner thigh. I felt the wetness and heat from there. “Poor thing. So desperate, and yet you don’t even say please?” I teased.
She clenched her jaw and huffed and pouted more. “It’s your fault!” She said, squirming out of my hands. I let her, curious about what she was going to do.
She crawled to the other side of the couch, glaring at me. “I told you, spanking me would make me want to get fucked. You can’t just get me all worked up and not touch me,” she said, petulant yet with eyes almost drunk with lust. She squirmed out of her shirt, almost tossing it on the floor, but then thinking twice.
She kept eye contact as she neatly folded it and put it on the coffee table next to us. Then she pulled her skirt up, until it was nothing more than a bunched-up belt around her waist, and pulled off her panties. They were pink cotton, soaked through at the crotch.
It was impressive, how turned on the spanking had gotten her. How it melted her inhibitions.
Her thick thighs almost obscured the triangle of short brown hair between her legs. She opened them wider. “Don’t you want to touch it? I think you do. I think you’re just being mean,” she said, now with teasing in her voice.
“Why wouldn’t I be mean? Look how well it worked on you. It turned you into a slutty little mess,” I said, sitting back and smiling.
She whined again and turned around, sticking her naked ass up in the air for me and shaking it. “Please use me, then! Pretty please. I’m all warm and wet and needy. Your finger would just slip right in. Maybe other things too,” she said, her blushing cheeks against my couch cushions once more.
I turned and faced her big ass, once again swooning and biting my tongue. My hands went to her hips, and she pushed against me. I imagined fucking her just like that, how easy it would be. I moved one hand to her inner thigh again. Her breath caught.
“Here?” I asked, making little circles with my fingers on her inner thigh. She whined louder and more desperately. “Nooooo, please!” she begged.
“You have to be specific, Frankie,” I laughed.
She whimpered, and the words seemed to get caught in her mouth. “Please, Sir. Please, finger my pussy. I need it so bad,” she whined.
My fingers moved up, to the very top of her leg, the tiny crease, then just outside of her pussy. Slowly exploring, enjoying how she pushed back, her body begging just like her words did. Moving up to the top of her slit, dipping into her wetness, then back out, listening to the rise and fall of her needy whimpers.
I brought my fingers to my mouth, both to wet them and to taste her. My crush. The one I longed for. Begging, naked, pushing her ass back, and asking for me to touch her. I relished the first little taste of her.
When my fingers returned, I smoothly slipped one into her hot cunt. Her back arched, and she bucked against me. “Fuck,” came from her lips as her eyes closed.
I gave her a few slow strokes before I reached for her hair and pulled it tightly as I fingered her. “One rule, and you broke it,” I said, but she didn’t seem to understand words anymore. I let go of her hair and spanked her ass as I fucked her with two fingers. She took it. She didn’t even seem to be aware of the pain anymore. She pushed into my fingers. My thumb slipped down and brushed her hard clit as I let her ride my hand.
I was shocked at how completely taken over she was. It’s like her mind was gone, and she was only a wet rutting mess that needed more penetration. I considered just fucking her. How easy it would be. She’d do anything at that moment. But I swallowed that impulse and held her down as I fucked her harder and faster with my fingers.
After a few moments, she started to push back harder, and her moans became louder and more frantic. “P-please, uh, sir, fu-” she almost cursed again but caught herself. “Please, oh, I’m going to come. Can I come? Please?”
I laughed again. “Already? Damn, so worked up over a little spanking? You must really like me,” I teased, fucking her harder. “Okay, you can come for me. But I want to make sure it’s for me. Can you tell me you’re coming for me?”
I had to hold on to her hip as she pushed back against my fingers. My cock ached in my jeans. My whole hand was soaking wet.
“Fuck! I’m coming for you, Brian-um-Sir-um-fuck-um-sorry!” she babbled, before groaning and moaning and tightening around my fingers as she came.
God, it was amazing to watch. Her face red, her eyes closed tight. How she reached up to squeeze one of her breasts as she came. When she finally finished coming, she rolled into a little ball at the other end of the couch. I followed her and rolled up against her.
Then we were laughing and suddenly kissing. Kissing the soft lips of Frankie, finally. “Oh yeah,” she said, sounding drunk, “we forgot to make out.”
I laughed against her mouth and kissed her more deeply, our tongues slipping and teasing. Then, somehow, we weren’t laughing. We were kissing for real. Her arms were around me. We shifted and were holding each other, as close as we could, and she was crying. I felt like I might, too, it was so intense.
After a few moments we broke our kiss to breathe. She was panting.
“I need-” she started, and then coughed. She closed her eyes and caught her breath.
“I need some water and a hug, and then I need to suck your cock,” she said in a strangely calm voice.
I slipped off the couch and looked at her pink skin. Cheeks and ass bright red. A big wet spot on my couch.
“Water, hug, cock, and then we can talk about all that cursing,” I said, handing her a glass. She took it and nodded, her eyes as big as saucers.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, after she drained the glass.