I wish more people would read my collection Butt Stuff. There’s some really good stories in it. Here’s a preview from one of them, “Flip the Switch”.
In person, Tanya was amazing. The moment I spanked her and she moaned, I about lost it right there. We played for a good hour right up front, filling the sound of our rented cabin with my hand and a few implements making satisfyingly-loud noises against her ass, until her dark skin was almost purplish. It was different, how she colored compared to lighter-skinned black women I’d been with, and I really enjoyed the sight of it.
We also had a ton of sex. She’d warned me she was a squirter, but the first time she came while I was going down on her was still a shock. We soaked the sheets; she sat on my face and we ruined a pillow; she sucked my cock until I was close and then stroked me until I came on her face, painting her with a week of come that I’d been saving up, not masturbating on purpose to make the orgasm stronger.
Our plan was for Tanya to surprise me with a spanking at some point during the weekend. It ended up being after dinner on Saturday; we came back to the cabin, I went to the bathroom, and when I was done Tanya was ready for me.
She was shockingly good at lecturing — must come with being a mom. I almost believed I’d made my friend’s sister cry all over again.
Then she bent me over the bed and picked up the spoon.
I don’t usually start out full-strength, even when punishing someone, but Tanya and I had discussed it beforehand and I’d told her to go as hard as she wanted. Still, though, that first whack with the spoon, even through my jeans and shorts, fucking hurt.
So did the dozens that came on top of that, especially when she yanked down my jeans and started spanking me over my boxers. It was like little bursts of fire were exploding on my ass each time she brought the spoon down, and soon all I could do was hang onto the bedspread and try to stay in position.
I failed. I couldn’t help it; it just hurt too much. I slid off the bed, onto my knees, unable to stop myself.
Tanya tossed the spoon on the bed and, hands under my arms, hauled me to my feet. That in and of itself was no easy task; I’m six-foot-four and almost three hundred pounds. But Tanya, despite being ten inches shorter, had quite a lot of strength, probably from wrangling her patients, and it wasn’t a challenge for her to maneuver me to a corner and put my hands on my head. “Stay there,” she said, using that no-nonsense mom voice. “Stay in the corner and think about what you did.”
Come on. You know you want to find out what happens next. And if you have read Butt Stuff, why not leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or TheStoryGraph?