tagFetishA 50s Tryst

A 50s Tryst

bynecronyms©

She sat on the veranda taking in her cool, fibrous menthol cigarette with collected, thin hands. Red nails on opposite hand tapped absently on weathered end table glossed with a haze of ash. Her pinned, voluminous black hair could stand repair as silky fly-aways tossed about viciously in a fall breeze just as it were to toss blandly colored oak leaves across her unsweeped terrace. In her sights, Oleander grew brimming in the last of the summer's generous sunlit beams and gloriously pinnacled by dew, they sparkled like the purple gemstones she'd love to have and could buy with the money from her gentlemen caller, tonight.

Her pursing, painted red lips, small and pouty and lined to sloping points beneath her nose inhaled the cold smoke and ruminated on it's minty palette with a flick of wet pink tongue across them.

Eyes of jade green lined with swirly golden rings danced now to the knock at the door of her bedroom, where from the veranda she could see with those pumpkin-leave colored orbs. She stubbed out the long, white tube and chided softly " You may come in" to the expected visitor.

Now she stood in full regalia. Dawning a pink, imported French robe of still imported Japanese silk garnished with white lilies on the breast, though it was flung open to reveal a more taunting affair of garments.

She pulled the brocade pin from her tresses and long, neat waves of hair fell like cascading gumballs through a parlour machine. Just as deliciously novel. It slid upon naked shoulders and silky bra straps, which held in her round, pert, white breasts and came down to cover her soft, rising nipples in a bullet shape. As one would follow this image down ( and her visitor did ) they would find the high waisted silk girdle patterned in diamond shapes and bearing garter straps to her shimmering, divine, thigh-high, nude stockings.

" You are luscious" professed the young man as he set a neat wad of green, dusty cash on the nightstand and approached her. And he was a fine boy, she thought, as he pulled out a cigarette from a charming silver case and she was quickly to present him with her father's antique table lighter, glossy and silver as his cigarette dispenser.

She bent to remove hiss hoes. Oxford's and shined to a perfect glow. And she smelled of his ripe youngness. The talc on his skin.

" You ever...seen those bootleg magazines? Why you wouldn't have. A lady would not. But I...saw one." He paused to check for her undivided attention as he sunk into a leather arm chair. He had it. " Women being spanked. I'd like, it you'd be so kind as to count the bills I've left for you, to spank you."

She, the silky little vision on the bed's edge pondered the idea with a puzzled willingness, though she only nodded in response.

He moved forward, luxurious Egyptian cigarette in hand, and gripped her slender wrist.

" Bend over my knee, girl."

She lay, despondent across his warm, full lap, and felt him lift the silk brocade of her robe to reveal her round, perky bottom peeking beneath her girdle. Though once apathetic toward the idea, she felt the strong, firm shape of his hand cupping the heated, throbbing shape of her backside, and then lift with quickness. The anticipation was something to be compared with nothing else, for her heart leapt in her chest so loud she was sure he could hear it, and she swallowed a lump of nervousness in her throat the size of a baseball. Baseball. Think of baseball. And before she even got to the hunky batter taking his place on home base, his hand flew down and whapped her a good one. Good enough to immediately leave a line of red streaming and stinging across her produced bottom. She cried out, and her cry was lost in his heavy breathing. His own realization that for the first time, he was living out a fantasy no proper woman in his world. Not wife, or friend, or secretary, all desirable, would ever let him live out. He swatted her again. And again. And it increased in pressure and roughness until her body jerked with each movement.

She whined. She arched her back. She dug her sharp red nails into his brown trousers 'round his calve and bit into her bottom lip so many times that little beads of blood formed beneath her perfectly white teeth. And then he stopped. Wet from sweat and breathing with such heat she felt it on her back. The same heat her backside felt from the repeated assault. She could feel his manhood, a veritable blaze of heat as well. And as they were, two compromised characters in a leather armchair, figuratively on fire, they must've made for quite the horribly erotic little couple. And she knew that she liked him. That she liked spanking.

He whipped her up by a handful of raven, slippery hair and threw her to the bed. Red, velvet bedspread following the finery of the room, but not detracting from the filthiness of it's patrons.

He mounted her with such a gleeful, boyish expression that she cooed at him, being only 2 years older, and feeling for all the world like a seasoned and mature woman with such a look on his face. He unzipped his fly with such urgency, that she had to assist him more than once in completing the task. And she slid her girdle up just a bit, to reveal the downy warmth of her trimmed womanhood, aching for him as her bottom ached from his abuse.

" Take me!" she demanded.

And he fumbled forward into her, his sweaty face buried in her sweet smelling neck. French perfume. She gripped the pillows behind her head and let him sink deep, drive deep, and hold her deep as he pushed and pulled his throbbing organ in and out of her tightness with such a force she thought she might climax instantly.

" I like when you spank me...I like...when you abuse me.." She admittedly softly to his distracted ear. As he pumped her with such resilience and wanting. And before she could have it that she was satisfied, he was through, collapsed atop her cooing gentle words of appreciation to her. And the taboo of the moment was erased forever by it's briefness, and she, now hooked on the pleasure in pain, sent him away, counting the bills with disappointment and lighting yet another delicious, comforting, and at least satisfying cigarette.

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