One Weekend Stand Ch. 03

She beat him to the bed, just barely, and was just clambering up when she heard a "whap!" and felt a stinging sensation across her butt cheeks. He'd spanked her! And not some little love tap, like some men used in the throes of passion, but a real, open palmed slap against the ass. Whap! His hand caught her on the fleshy part of her ass again, the sound cracking through the room as loudly as the thunder crackling outside the cabin walls. She braced herself on hands and knees, her ass offered up to him like a ripe, red target, hoping that he would continue. How had he known that she liked to be spanked? She didn't think she'd told him about it. She hadn't, in fact, told anyone about how much she enjoyed it. The anticipation. The sound. The sting. And sometimes, the sense of cleansing, as if she was in fact being punished for her sins. But she wasn't the kind of person who would ask for something like that. She would enjoy it if it came along, but never felt quite comfortable suggesting it.

Maybe she hadn't told him. Maybe he just liked it. Or maybe it was just a spontaneous thing, never to be repeated again. Whap! The sting of his palm against her flesh drove all speculation from her mind, as the heat and tingling pain flooded her senses. Wild-eyed, she gritted her teeth and dropped to her forearms, canting her ass up to give him a better target. Whap! His palm met her flesh so violently that she almost tumbled forward. That one had been the hardest yet. Whap! And whap and whap! Three in a row, softer and yet no less stimulating.

Now she felt him pause, his fingers exploring her pussy, stroking the swollen lips, parting them, his thumb finding her wet hole, working its way inside, as casually and confidently as any of the men who thought they possessed her. Whap! A left-handed strike, with the fingers of his right hand still deep inside her cunt, reminding her that her ass was not safe from his punishing strokes. He pulled out and spanked her with his now wet hand, covered in her pussy juices. She saw the image in her mind, the red handprints speckling her white flesh, her ass poking high in the air as if begging for more, the streaks of wetness a testament to his absolute dominance of her.

He continued, hard, soft, caressing, hard, lightly, singly and in succession, no pattern to it, except whatever impulse drove him. Her ass was glowing hot, but still she wanted more, wiggling her butt to show her willingness to continue. And he obliged, administering a succession of barehanded slaps that left her on the verge of tears, pausing every so often to savagely assault her cunt with his fingers, stuffing them deep in her cunt or fingering her clit or tugging on her fully swollen pussy lips, and then returning, inexorably, to tanning her ass with his hand.

Once, as he paused to grope her cunt and tits, her awareness of her surroundings suddenly returned. The candles were guttering in their holders; they'd left the windows open and the storm winds were tearing through the tiny cabin. Rain, driven sideways by the wind, was splashing on the kitchen counters. Their sodden clothes still lay strewn across the floor, joined by the now-forgotten and unneeded porn movies. Every few seconds lightning illuminated the whole room and the roll of thunder was almost continuous, like a train passing only a few feet away. With the rain constantly beating on the roof, the wind swirling inside and the rain sluicing inside, it felt like they were barely protected from the fury of the storm. Like their protection might get whipped away by the wind at any moment, exposing them to a maelstrom that could carry them both away. And yet she also felt a part of it, urged on by the lightning and thunder and wind, releasing herself to the most elemental core of herself, allowing herself to enjoy the full measure of pleasure that she so often denied herself.

She felt him slap her ass and upper legs a few more times, then crawl in between her legs. She knew what was coming next, wanted it, and tensed herself to receive it. With no searching or fanfare, he penetrated her with his rock solid cock, slamming himself into the hilt, his pubic bone slamming against her ass and sending painful yet delightful sparks of pain all across her butt. She grinned and cried out at the same time, her passionate response serving to urge him on. He fucked her hard then, stroke after stroke stronger and stronger, his hands tight around her hips, steadying her for his violent assault.

His face! She wanted to see his face when he came. Wanted him to coat her body with his silky sperm. Wanted to watch it eject like a stream from a fire hose, spraying up and down her sweat-soaked skin. But did she want to give up the delicious sensations now emanating from her butt and cunt? The tingling of her ass. The fullness in her cunt. The blood rushing to her head as she braced herself against the mattress, sheets clenched in her teeth in purely animal carnality.

"I wanna watch you fuck me!" she whimpered back at him, her voice ragged from the exhaustion of being taken so completely. She didn't wait to see his reaction. Just felt his cock withdraw all the way, his weight shift on the bed, and suddenly she was physically pushed onto her back, his lubricated cock hard and wicked, swaying in front of him like a cobra seeking another victim.

He knelt between her legs, looking down at her. Her hair was completely disheveled, her body streaked with sweat and glistening in the candlelight, her pussy red and angry looking. He wanted to take her deeper, harder and more forcefully than ever. Without a word from him, she lifted her legs to the sky and pressed his cock between her legs, noticing immediately how much tighter her hole was in this position. But he wanted to get deeper still, so he pressed her legs forward and back, until they were nearly hooked around his head and she was almost bent double. Even in his urgent passion he kept an eye out for any signs of discomfort. Some women just weren't flexible enough to handle the position. But he saw only lust and passion in her eyes, and thus assured he let his full weight push his cock ever deeper into her spasming pussy.

He fucked her smoothly and steadily, changing the angle of his thrusts every so often for his own, and her mutual benefit. In truth, he could barely feel his cock, it was so numb from over-stimulation. It was something most men wouldn't talk about with their partners, probably because it implied there was something wrong with the other's lovemaking skills. But, medically, after so much stimulation, so much teasing and denying, the nerve endings simply got overloaded and shut down for a while. He always laughed when people talked about the joys of tantric sex. It wasn't the chanting or the mental focus that allowed a man to go hours without cumming. It was his body's purely natural physiological reaction to over-stimulation. Simply put, if you ramped down your activity when you were on the verge of cumming, soon your body over-reacted and shut down the nerve endings for you. After that, it became a matter of finding a different kind of stimulation to put him over the top.

He guessed the same was true for her. He didn't know how long they'd been going at it, but could she possibly be feeling every inch of ever stroke with the same clarity as when they'd first started? Their faces were only inches apart now, so forcefully was he pressing down on her. Her face held a manic intensity, her eyes closed and her head frantically shaking from side to side. He tried to catch her lips with his, but she just shook her head away. That only encouraged him to double his efforts, and he savagely thrust his cock as deeply into her cunt as he could. Her right hand snaked down between her legs and she frantically rubbed her clit, the one part of her not being directly stimulated by his plunging cock.

Then she was cradling her tits in her hands, thumbing the stiff nipples and staring straight up at him. He knew what that meant, but didn't want to pull out and just masturbate until he came all over her body. He always thought that was a stupid thing to do, even in the porn movies. You could jack off alone, at home. Why waste a single second outside of her hot, tight cunt?

Instead, he changed position so he was kneeling nearly upright. He continued to thrust himself deep into her, but now the walls of her cunt were touching the bottom of his shaft with every stroke. He felt it building. Building. Like the storm outside, with lightning flickering in a continuous incandescent display, the thunder cracking so loud it dropped dust from the roof onto them, the wind swirling like a demon loosed to feed on their impassioned cries. And then, just as he began to ejaculate inside her, he pulled out and let himself spurt all over her outstretched body, a powerful cascade of cum that arched all the way to her neck, a stream that landed across her breast and belly. Without touching himself he spasmed again and again, watching his cum paint wide swaths across her body, marking her in the most primal fashion. Only then did he grasp himself and milk the last remaining drops onto her pussy lips.

Her eyes were open again, and she watched him with a bemused but exhausted smile on her face. Normally he'd crawl up and have her suck him dry, but he remembered her aversion to tasting cum. Instead, he rubbed his fresh sperm into her skin, taking extra care to completely soak her tits and nipples. He could see that she was more than a little surprised by his actions. Think that's something, he thought, looking bemusedly at her. Without any hesitation, he bent down and licked his cum right off her still heaving breasts. Now she had real shock in her eyes. But he didn't care. How could he ask a woman to do something he wouldn't do himself?

He wouldn't! Would he? He didn't! Did he? She was shocked by what he'd just done. Tasting his own sperm? Who did that? Was he bi maybe? Or just really kinky? Did he do that all the time? Or just to teach her something? That last question stayed in her mind, making her more and more suspicious. He'd been very puzzled when she first talked about her aversion to cum in her mouth at a particularly flirtatious lunch so many years ago. He'd brought it up every so often since then, as if to determine whether her husband had cured her of that bad habit. But once she had herself convinced that she didn't like something, there was very little chance that she would change her mind. And she became greatly annoyed at anyone who might even try to change her mind.

She caught herself then. He wasn't her husband, always trying to change her to fit his view of how she should act. Maybe it was just what it seemed, nothing more than an impulsive move. In fact, she was faintly turned on by it, knowing how far he would go just to get his mouth on her breasts. She let herself settle back into the euphoria of the moment, not minding at all when he stretched out and covered her with his body, his cum already drying on her skin. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him tight against her.

"That was..." she murmured in his ear.

"Hmmmmm?" he whispered back, the knowing smile already beginning to play at the corners of his mouth.

"Nice," she finished, squeezing his butt with her palms.

"Good," he replied drowsily, rolling her onto her side and pulling her against him. She could see him struggling to keep his eyes open. She shut hers and felt his body relax as he gave in to his exhaustion. She was just about to open her eyes so she could enjoy his sleeping form when she too tumbled into a deep sleep.

Saturday

He awoke early. At least, it felt early. He couldn't tell because a pillow had somehow made its way off the bed and onto the makeshift nightstand, where it came to rest covering the clock. In fact, quite a few pillows had somehow grown legs and leapt off the bed. Along with the comforter and some of the sheets.

It felt early in that way that it can only feel early if you're in a strange bed, far away from home. And if you're in a cabin in the woods, no matter how high the surrounding hills and how tall the surrounding trees, it was the kind of place where the rising sun would somehow find a way to shine right in your face, the very moment that it breached the horizon. It was that kind of early.

He didn't bother to check the time. Because the sun would only continue to rise and the cabin would only continue to get brighter. And with no shades, there was no stopping it. So no matter what time it was now, there would be no reason to fall back asleep, not with the sun contriving to keep him awake by getting annoyingly brighter and brighter.

Besides, nature called. He slipped out of the bed as quietly as possible. She'd said once before that she was a late sleeper, and since there was no pressing reason to get her up, she might as well enjoy what was left of her REM cycle. He resisted the urge to lean over and nibble on her bare shoulder. He needed to prove to himself that he could leave her alone for a while. Ten minutes should do it.

The air outside was crisp and clean. The sky was scrubbed of clouds and already taking on the deep blue of a fine summer day. It seemed as if an inch of newly fallen pine needles covered the ground, but they were soft from the rain and didn't stab his bare feet. He hadn't bothered to dress, and it felt weird to be outside completely naked during the day. Weird but refreshingly liberating. Clothing would be optional for today.

Back in the cabin, freshly washed and shaved, he again contemplated her sleeping form. Wake her? Or not? He decided on not. She'd need her rest, if things went according to plan. Of course, there wasn't really a plan, per se. He'd gone into the weekend promising himself that he wouldn't fantasize about what could happen, or the order in which it could happen. That had lasted, what, about two minutes? It was human nature to look ahead, to try and control events before they happened. And it was the nature of the universe to turn all that forecasting to crapola. So, sure, he'd had some idea of what he wanted to happen for the whole weekend. Whose fault was it that they'd covered all of that in the first six hours?

Such thinking made him hungry. In fact, he was ravenous. "Breakfast!" his stomach ordered. He'd make them both breakfast. But what did she like? They hadn't ever discussed it, at least not as far as he could remember. He decided on omelets, with cheese and ham. If she wanted broccoli, she could add it herself. He put on some boxers. A grease burn on his nether regions would be both painful and hard to explain to his wife.

It was a loud gurgle from the coffeemaker that finally woke her up. That was a bit of a disappointment. He'd passed the time while making breakfast trying to decide the most enjoyable way of waking her. A kiss on the cheek? A gentle shaking? Tickling her nose? A full body massage complete with heated oil? The possibilities were endless, and endlessly provocative to contemplate.

He watched while she assessed the situation through bleary eyes. To stay in the warm, cozy bed and be lulled back to sleep? Or to be lured out of bed with a fresh cup of coffee and a hot breakfast? It seemed as though breakfast would win out. As she began to climb out of bed, he half expected her to tug the sheets free, wrapping them around her like an actress in the movies. But she simply slipped free and padded to the counter, completely naked and completely uncaring of the fact. Her skin glowed in the morning light, and he was happy to see that her butt cheeks were no longer pink from the vigorous spanking she'd received the night before. In fact, now that she was up and about, she looked more full of life than ever.

They both concentrated on their meal, not saying much, neither wishing to break the spell. He was a great believer in "what happens in bed stays in bed," and he hoped that she also ascribed to that philosophy. By his way of thinking, it came down to: What passion and pleasure might move you to do didn't have anything to do with the kind of person you are. Sex is sex, and life is life, and one shouldn't affect the other. Or, as he'd once seen on a bumper sticker, "Don't judge." They kissed sparingly, neither wishing to subject the other to a possible case of dragon breath.

When she moved to do the dishes, he gently pushed her away and sent her out for her shower. She seemed puzzled until she realized what he had in mind. And so he was able to complete the mundane task of washing the dishes while watching her cavort around in the shower just outside the window, stiffening both his cock and his resolve to do something about it.

She returned to the cabin refreshed and relaxed. Since he seemed to be sporting nothing more than a pair of boxers (except for the beginnings of a tent!), she decided to do the same, pulling on a pair of skimpy panties and nothing else. It felt good to walk around topless, not caring who might see her, but feeling that warm tingle that someone just might. She'd gone topless many times when she had her own place, and it amused her that her lovers were always going on about having proper drapes in place. Sometimes it felt like they were trying to close off her spirit, too.

He'd cleaned up the dishes from the previous night, as well as their wine glasses. There wasn't much left for her to do, except straighten up the bed. As she bent and squatted to reassemble the bedding she could feel his gaze, and she felt herself beginning to blush a little. Which was crazy, as he'd seen her in ways that few people had ever seen her. Almost completely open to him. With almost all her masks lowered. Almost.

She honestly didn't know if she'd ever be able to completely trust him, or anyone, to see everything she wanted to be, or everything she wanted to do. Part of it was her personality. Part of it her upbringing. And part of it, and this was hard for her to ever admit, was that she felt the need to save a piece of herself to share only with herself, else she might not even exist as a separate personality at all. She shook her head, smiling. Such introspection was best saved for sitting in front of a fireplace on a cold winter's night, with no other companion than a tall bottle of wine.

She was just reaching for the final pillow when he stayed her hand. He wanted to leave it covering the clock. He didn't want to know what time it was. That struck her as a little odd, and it made her feel a little tense. Just like being in phone range, knowing the time made her feel secure. And now he was taking that away too? OK. She could play this game as long as he could. In fact, she could up the ante. Without a word, she bent over and unplugged the clock completely. Weirdly enough, just that simple act made her feel oddly empowered. Now they really didn't know what time it was. And the world hadn't come to an end!

She turned and found him standing so near she could feel the heat from his body. She allowed herself to be drawn into his embrace and tipped her head up to receive a kiss from his lips. Her breasts rubbed erotically against his chest and he held her at the neck and the ass, pulling all of her body hard against him. They kissed deeply this time, welcoming the morning together, their tongues darting and fencing, neither willing to be the first to break off. He sucked at her lips and pressed his mouth hard against hers, violent and lustful one moment, tender and passionate the next. She felt herself moving, swaying around the room and realized they were in fact dancing, dancing in time to the beat of their hearts and the tempo of their desires. Both half-naked. Both completely absorbed in the other. Both in a world together yet also apart, imposing their wills and accepting their rewards.