Crosstown Traffic

It started innocently -- at least relatively so -- with a tweet.

Brian's crush on Patricia Tischman began his first morning in Pittsburgh. Patti, the now 41-year-old traffic anchor on a local network affiliate, caught his attention and fired his imagination with her sparkling brown eyes, pixie-cut brunette hair that reminded him of Audrey Hepburn in the movie "Sabrina" -- which contrasted with creamy skin featuring a collection of light freckles across the bridge of her nose -- and penchant for wearing short, tight dresses, and either ankle- or calf-high boots.

He'd followed her on Twitter, and she followed back the same day. Over the six years he'd lived in The 'Burgh, they'd traded occasional tweets.

One bleak January afternoon, caught in traffic, Brian mentioned her in a post about a disabled vehicle -- identifying it as a red mini-van. 20 infuriating minutes later, he could see the vehicle in question was actually an SUV, more maroon than red. And, though he knew the distinction made little difference to the people backed-up behind it, he notified Patti of his mistake, defending himself by explaining that he'd been a quarter of a mile away, in heavy snow, and the vehicle's hood was up when he first tweeted. His penance, he assured her -- thinking it might bring a smile to her face -- would be having himself soundly whipped with a wet noodle.

Two days later, he received a Direct Message from Patti. She joked that he would probably enjoy the punishment. He laughed loudly, thinking she was teasing him, then replied that he was not into whipping, but did enjoy spanking -- though he was the spanker, not the spankee. He added a winky face emoji. Not quite an hour passed before she responded.

"I've never been spanked," she announced. "I mean, not in that way."

Taken aback -- not that she'd never been spanked, but that she would divulge it in this manner -- he took time to digest this information. He contemplated his reply, opting, finally, to play it safe.

"Can't you get your husband to do it?" he asked.

"No," she answered, quickly. "He doesn't know I have a freaky side."

"Freaky?" he questioned.

"Well, adventurous," she clarified. "I'd like to try being spanked... maybe more."

"Like what?" he prodded.

"Getting rough," she confessed. "Being taken."

"I would be happy to help you," he offered, his lust getting the better of him.

"LOL. I bet you would," she taunted.

He let it lie; not pushing the issue -- though he wanted to -- knowing that if she were serious, she'd bring it up again. It took a week.

"Would you really?" she messaged.

"What?" he answered, knowing exactly what she meant, but wanting to make her say it.

"Spank me," she returned.

"Absolutely," he affirmed.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked.

"Anything," he said.

"In the shower this morning, I masturbated while thinking about it," she told him.

He nearly spit Coca-Cola all over his monitor.

"Thinking about me spanking you," he inquired after composing himself. "Or, just being spanked in general?"

"You," she divulged.

For a few moments, he stared at the screen.

"Did you cum hard?" he asked, finally.

"Oh, God; yes," she told him. "I was shaking so much I almost fell."

"I wish I could have seen that," he admitted.

"Me, too," she said.

"Could you send me a picture of what I'd be spanking?" he asked. "Please."

"Don't you see it on TV every morning?" she countered.

"Not really," he said. "You never turn far enough for me to get a good look at it. Plus, it's covered by your clothes."

"Maybe, when I know you better," she deferred. "I have to be very careful."

"I understand," he said.

"Do you think my ass is spank-able though?" she wondered.

"Yes," he pronounced. "Very much so."

"Perhaps, someday soon, we can find out," she broached.

"I'm ready whenever you are," he agreed.

For the next three weeks, they messaged each other, flirting back and forth. Brian began to suspect she simply enjoyed the titillation of even considering this action. While he, too, took pleasure in talking about it, and using it as masturbatory fodder, he yearned for more, though he resisted the urge to press her. Knowing her situation, he realized he would simply have to settle for whatever she could give.

He'd all but given up hope of actually meeting Patti, when she revealed that her family would soon be taking a trip out of town without her. Work required her to remain for her morning broadcasts, but would leave her free of responsibilities in the afternoon. They made plans to meet.

After preparing his house, Brian showered and dressed -- shorts and a t-shirt -- then sat in the living room, and watched out the windows... waiting. Within a minute of their scheduled rendezvous, a large pickup truck slowly pulled up in front of the house, then turned in the wide driveway. Brian went to the back door.

A figure, obviously female, clad in gray sweatpants and sweatshirt -- with the hood pulled up to conceal their identity -- emerged from the vehicle, and approached him. She carried a small purple backpack. He swung open the door, and his guest bounded past him, into the kitchen. As he turned, Patti pulled back the hood to unmask herself. She wore black sunglasses, which she removed.

"I didn't want anyone to see me," she shrugged.

"You're more beautiful in-person than you are on TV," Brian complimented.

Patti stepped closer and hugged him. His heavy, 6'3" frame dwarfed her petite, 5'7" build, and she all but disappeared from sight as he wrapped his arms around her.

"It's nice to finally meet you in person," he raved, squeezing her.

He breathed in the scent of her -- her hair, her perfume, her body.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, releasing her.

"No, thank you," she said. "I had one before I came over... for courage."

"You're sure you want this?" he inquired.

"I do," she acknowledged. "I'm just a little scared. I've never done something like this... I mean, I've never done anything with another man -- my husband and I were high school sweethearts. And, when I walked in the door, this all became real. On-line, it was just talk and fantasy. No one could get hurt."

"We don't have to..." Brian began, intending to provide her an easy excuse to leave if she wanted.

"No," she interrupted. "I've been thinking about this for so long. And, if I don't do it, I think my head will explode."

Brian couldn't help but chuckle.

"We have to be very discreet though," she insisted. "Nobody can find out."

"I'll never tell a soul," he said. "I swear."

"We'll just be 'fuck buddies,'" she offered.

"Say that again," he said.

"What? Fuck buddies?" she repeated.

He moved closer to her, raising his right hand to the side of her face.

"It's so hot when you curse?" he said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because you seem like Little Miss Innocent on television," he said.

"Well, you know that's not true," she giggled.

"Yes," he agreed. "There's just something about hearing it in person."

He gazed into her eyes for a long second, then his hand slid down to take hers.

"So, no more nerves," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then what am I doing here?" she sneered, facetiously.

"I won't hurt you much," he said, adding a wink.

Brian began leading her toward the front of the house, but she stopped.

"No bruises," she said, seriously.

Given what you want, there will, necessarily, be some temporary handprints," he pointed out. "But, I promise, no bruises."

"Shit," she spat. "I didn't think about that."

"They'll fade quickly," he assured her.

"I have a week," she reasoned, before continuing to follow him.

Moving through the dining room, they reached a stairway. Brian stepped aside to allow Patti to go first.

"After you, M'lady," he said.

She proceeded up two steps, then stopped and turned to him -- her face now slightly above his.

"Hey," she blurted. "You just want to stare at my butt while I go!"

"Of course," he admitted, smiling.

"You're bad," she complained.

"I never pretended otherwise," he said.

For a few moments, her bottom lip stuck out in a mock pout. Then, she spun, placed the backpack behind her -- covering her ass -- and ran up the stairs. Brian followed at a much slower pace. Reaching the top, Patti waited for him. Joining her, he showed her to the Master Bedroom.

"Should I get changed?" she asked, entering.

"Uh, sure," he said, caught somewhat off-guard. "If you'd like."

"I brought an outfit to wear," she told him as he directed her toward the bathroom.

Once she closed the door, he stripped to his boxer-briefs and t-shirt; then sat on the front edge of the bed, and waited.

"I'll be just be a sec," she called out.

Nearly 10 minutes passed before Patti emerged. She wore a white shirt, unbuttoned, but tied in a knot over her naval -- Brian could see the dark areolas of her full C cup breasts through the thin fabric -- a short red and black plaid, pleated skirt; white thigh-high stockings, and black four-inch heels. As Brian gawked at her, she spun slowly. The skirt exposed the cheeks of her ass, which were concealed by full bottom, white cotton panties.

"Like it?" she asked, facing him once more.

"It's... incredible," he managed to say.

"I bought it a couple years ago," she admitted, "but I've never had the nerve to wear it for my husband."

"Thank you for wearing it for me," he said.

She looked away, as if embarrassed.

"You should wear it on-air some morning," he suggested.

Laughter burst from her red-painted lips.

"I couldn't even get away with this on Halloween," she groused. "My bosses sent me a memo about one of my dresses. I can't even imagine what they'd say about this."

"The red one?" he asked, referring to a wrap-around dress featuring a high cut in the front, which, as she moved, occasionally allowed a peek of Patti's inner thigh.

She'd worn that particular garment every three to four weeks -- in a rotation with others. But, Brian had noticed it hadn't made an appearance in quite a while.

"Yes," she answered. "They said it 'showed too much.'"

"Idiots," he spat. "That was my favorite outfit."

Patti frowned at him.

"Well," he corrected himself, his eyes traveling up her body, "it used to be my favorite."

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Yes," he responded, crooking a finger, beckoning her to him.

"Is it OK if I keep my panties on?" she asked, meekly.

He was confused.

It's just... I mean...," she stammered, "I don't want things to go too far."

"Of course, Patti," he said, soothingly. "How far we go is up to you. You can leave on, or take off, anything you want. And, if I'm doing something you don't like, or if you want to stop, just say 'apple.'"

Nodding her understanding, Patti approached him. Standing to his right, she bent over -- knees straight, elbows resting on his lap.

"Down," he ordered.

"I don't want to hurt you," she said.

"You won't," he guaranteed her.

Brian guided her as she descended; her ass lifted in front of his face. Patti looked back at him over her shoulder, and he placed his right hand on the inside of her left knee. It began drifting upward, his fingertips teasing her flesh, and he could feel goosebumps rising on her skin.

"Relax," he whispered.

His left hand slid up her arm, over her shoulder, and traced downward along her spine. Passing her waist, he gathered the fabric of her skirt and gently pulled it upward, flipping it over to lay on her lower back. Admiring the curves of her ass, he let out a low whistle. Brian's right hand cupped her left cheek. For a few moments, he savored the warmth of her flesh.

"Such a naughty little girl," he murmured, "in your pretty white panties."

He could hear her already breathing hard, despite her efforts to control it. His hands moved back and forth across the thin material covering her derriere as he made her wait. Finally, when he could delay no longer, he raised his right hand, and brought it down quickly, firmly striking her left cheek with his palm.

"Ouch!" she blurted.

Without acknowledging her exclamation, he duplicated the action -- with the same intensity. This time, she muffled her complaint. He switched to her right cheek as she began to squirm; her body grinding against his stiff cock.

After another half dozen smacks, Brian's hand drifted over her bottom, letting his fingers probe the cleft between her cheeks; then dragging them upward to brush her asshole. Her breath caught in her throat as he touched her.

The respite was brief. Again, his right hand came up, then fell, striking her soft flesh.

"Yesss," she hissed.

For another minute, Brian spanked her steadily, setting a rhythm as she wiggled. He stopped abruptly, letting his hand rest on her ass. Noticing the stinging sensation in his palm, he imagined how Patti felt.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, rhetorically.

Sliding downward, his fingers brushed the crotch of her panties. It was damp, and he stifled a groan. Continuing, he traced the outline of her engorged lips until he reached her clit.

"Oh, my God," she rasped, and her body stiffened as if struck by lightning.

Brian paused, thinking she might object. She did not. He began to circle her button with slow, deliberate motions. Her breathing quickened, and she writhed on his lap.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, needlessly.

Before she could answer, his left hand came down on her right ass cheek. He rubbed harder, simultaneously spanking her. Patti moaned, her body heaved, and her left hand tore at the bed.

"I'm gonna cum," she whimpered.

She repeated herself three more times -- growing louder each time -- as he manipulated her. He ceased striking her, and placed his left hand on her right hip, to prevent her from falling off his lap.

"That's it, Patti," he growled. "Cum for me."

For several seconds, she stopped breathing. Then, her body shuddered, and she gasped as she convulsed violently. Brian held her tightly with one hand, even as he continued working her clit, trying to lengthen and amplify her euphoria. The almost animalistic sounds she made, and the spasms wracking her form, let him know he'd been successful. Patti came a second time before the first orgasm faded.

He was tempted to keep going, but -- this being their first time together, and not knowing how much ecstasy she could endure at one time -- he, reluctantly, gave her time to relax. Resting quietly as he held her, he enjoyed the tremors running through her body. It took almost five minutes for her to speak.

"That was incredible," she exhaled, finally.

"Are you OK?" he asked, softly.

"I've never cum twice like that," she said.

"We're not done," he told her. "Get on the bed; on your hands and knees."

Brian helped as she rose from his lap, and crawled onto the bed. Looking back at him over her shoulder, her gaze lingered on the bulge in his underwear, and she shook her ass. He knelt at the foot of the bed and pulled her closer. Their eyes met; he dug his fingers into the crotch of her panties, twisted, and then ripped them open.

"What are you doing?" she raged.

"You said you didn't want to take them off," he argued. "They're still on."

Before she could agree or disagree with this technicality, he pressed his tongue against her asshole.

"Fuuuuck," she exploded.

Grabbing her cheeks, he spread them, allowing him greater access to her hole.

"Jesus," she wailed, trying to pull away.

Wrapping his left arm around her legs, he held her in place.

"Stay right here," he insisted.

She appeared uncertain, but remained.

"Play with your pussy," he demanded.

He resumed probing her with his tongue, and her right hand slipped between her legs. The combination overloaded her senses. She jerked; arching her back, and pushing her hips toward him. Her cries echoed off the bedroom walls. Only a minute later, she came again, thrashing wildly.

As he'd done during her first orgasm, he carried on pleasuring her, nudging his tongue against her sphincter, while his fingers took the place of hers, rubbing her clit roughly as she trembled. Patti jabbered incoherently as his carnal assault persisted. His mouth drifted downward, and he pushed his tongue between her lips, trying to force it inside her.

"Ohhh," she purred, straining to claw at his short hair with her left hand.

Unable to get a good hold, her hand fell to the bed, and she braced herself for the next wave of bliss quickly engulfing her brain.

"You taste so fucking good," he mumbled, momentarily pulling his face from her flesh.

Before she could reply, his attention returned to her cunt. While his fingers worked her clit, his tongue danced up and down her slick lips.

"You're driving me crazy," she sobbed, barely able to form the words.

He felt her thighs quivering, and increased the ferocity of his efforts. Again, Patti went over the edge, cumming as Brian pressed her down on the bed, nearly flat, while keeping his mouth and fingers on her. He hummed, sending vibrations through her as she came. She contorted beneath him, and he used his weight to hold her still until her body relaxed.

As her breathing evened, he grabbed her hips, and guided her as she rolled onto her back. Carefully, he crawled upward coming to rest beside her. Leaning in, he kissed her neck, dragging his tongue over her white-hot skin, while his fingers traced across her belly and into her cleavage. Slowly, he began untying the knot in her shirt, and she rolled onto her side, facing him.

"More," she begged.

"I've already made you cum four times," he commented.

"Is there a limit?" she asked in a serious tone.

"No," he allowed. "But, now it's my turn."

He stepped off the bed, and stood next to the dresser.

"Come here," he instructed.

She complied, without saying a word.

"Take off your shirt," he continued.

As the garment floated to the floor, Brian's right hand rose to the back of Patti's neck, then up into her hair. Taking a handful, he pulled sharply, tilting her head back. Her body stiffened as he brought her face to his -- nose to nose.

"Do you remember the safe word?" he asked.

"Yes," she affirmed.

"Do you want to use it?" he pressed.

For a moment, Brian thought she might waver.

"No," she mewled.

"On your knees," he commanded, forcing her down.

She glared up at him. With his left hand, he lowered his boxer-briefs, freeing his cock and balls. Her focus shifted to the erection -- the tip glistening with pre-cum -- in front of her face.

"Holy shit," she blurted, admiring it.

"Like it?" he asked.

"It's so thick," she whispered.

Patti reached up to touch him. Wrapping both hands around the shaft, she stroked him slowly. Her mouth opened, and she leaned closer. His hand still in her hair, he held her back.

"Not yet," he said.

"Please," she appealed.

"Close your mouth," he ordered. "Pucker your lips."

Without a word, she did so. He pulled her closer, and guided the head of his cock toward her lips. They opened in anticipation.

"No," he snapped. "Keep them shut."

"Aren't you going to let me suck it?" she complained.

"Close your mouth," he repeated; slowly, enunciating each word.

That done, he pressed the tip to her lips. She looked up at him as it traced over them, spreading his pre-cum across the soft tissue -- smearing her lipstick in the process. Releasing her hair, he took a step back. Without waiting for permission, she licked her lips.

"Mmmm," she intoned.

"Want more?" he asked.

"I do," she answered, immediately.

"That's exactly what you're gonna get," he told her. "Suck it."

Patti's eyes locked on his as she closed her lips around the head of his cock. For a few seconds, her tongue swirled over the tip; then she began moving forward, taking more of him in her warm mouth. He sighed as the head slid into her throat.