A few days ago, I mentioned that I’d written a sequel to “As Hard As You Can” (which is in Butt Stuff). Since the short-story collection it was going to be in is no longer going to be published, I figured I’d start this year off by giving you that story for free. It’s called “As Long As You Can”. You don’t need to have read the first story to understand this one, but it helps a little.

For now, enjoy!

* * * * * * * * * *

Two years.

Two years of spanking, of fucking, of loving each other, of spending all our free time together.

Two years.

And now it felt like it was over.

—

I don’t begrudge Mark asking me if he could get spanked by other people. He wasn’t interested in having sex with anyone but me — at least, that’s what he said, and I had no reason to disbelieve him — but he’d read about a professional spanker coming to town, a woman, and he was curious what it would be like. He showed me her Twitter and her website — she was younger than me, and pretty, though Mark always told me how beautiful I was — and we discussed it.

“You’re going to pay her?”

He nodded. “It’s not a lot of money.” He told me how much. “And there will be no sexual contact.”

“I know how hard you get when I spank you,” I said, folding my arms. We were in the kitchen; he was sitting at the table, laptop open, and I’d been leaning over his shoulder. I stepped back to rest my hips against the counter, and he turned the chair so he could look at me. “How can you be sure?”

“I’ll let her pull my shorts down to expose my butt, but I won’t let her take them all the way off. That should work.”

I shook my head. “You’ll still get hard. I know you.”

“But I won’t act on it, Kelly. I promise, I don’t want to fuck her. I only want to fuck you.” He said it with enough lasciviousness that I felt my cheeks flush ever so slightly pink. “I’m just curious, that’s all. If you don’t want me to do it, I won’t do it.”

I didn’t want him to do it. I didn’t want to take the chance that she’d be better than me, that he’d forever compare me to her, that he’d grow cool and distant when I put him over my knee and spanked him because I wasn’t her. But what right did I have to say no? We were monogamous, yes, but a lot of our friends in the spanking community weren’t, and we were the rare couple who only spanked each other. I mean, sure, I wondered what it would be like to let Kevin spank me — he was pretty well-known locally, and at spanking parties we’d seen his handiwork, both the during and the after — but I wasn’t going to give in to the thought. I didn’t need anyone to spank me except Mark.

So why did he need this other woman to spank him? What was wrong with me? What did she have that I didn’t have?

Judging from her photos on the site, the only real thing she had going for her was that she was younger than me. Why would having a younger woman — she was thirty-two; Mark was thirty-five and I turned forty last month — as a spanker be such a turn-on?

The problem was this: what reason could I give to say no? Anything I said would sound petty or bitchy, and I didn’t want him to resent me for not giving permission.

There was no way to win. None at all.

“If you really want to find out,” I finally said, trying to keep my voice nonchalant, “then you can book a session with her. Not at the house, though.”

He shook his head. “She always hosts.”

How did he know that?

“At a hotel?”

Another shake. “She gets a rental house so she doesn’t have to worry about making noise.”

“What about videos?” This particular professional spanker advertised that she made spanking videos as well. “You’re not going to do that, are you?”

“Hell no,” he said quickly. “That’s the last thing I need. The only videos I want to see are of you and me.”

Now I really did blush; there were a couple of videos on his phone of me going down on him, and one on his laptop from a particularly-involved spanking I’d given him a year ago. We didn’t watch them together, but I knew sometimes he did, and although he didn’t say, I was sure he masturbated to them. That I couldn’t fault; I knew I was good at what I did to him, and if he wanted to get off that way, who was I to say no?

Saying no to Mark was hard because he was such a good, kind person. He ran a day-care, and was wonderful with kids. We didn’t have any of our own; mine were fifteen and eleven and lived mostly with their dad, although when they were with me Mark did a great job with them. Even my teenage son put up with him, and given what I’d heard from other divorced moms, that was a victory in itself. He treated me wonderfully, took care of me, cooked for me, helped with the cleaning, and didn’t complain when we moved into my house together and he had to put most of his stuff into storage. “If we take the next step,” he’d said, “I’ll sell it off.” I wasn’t even put out by that, and I know some people would be.

Mark didn’t ask for much. How could I begrudge him this?

“Okay,” I said. “Set it up.”

—

I think both Mark and I overcompensated once the meeting with Princess Patricia was on our shared calendar. At least, I know I did. I gave Mark blowjobs almost every night, much to his surprise and delight. He was effusive in how much he praised them, and I admit that I preened a little. After this long I can easily deep-throat him, and I know how much he loves when I put a finger or two in his ass at the same time. And Mark was extra-solicitous, both in bed and out — he gave me orgasm after orgasm with his mouth, his hands, and his cock, and he took care of the house too, doing my chores as well as his own.

But it was the night before that I think I did my best work towards keeping him. We’d had the meeting on the calendar for two months, and it took that long for my surprise to get to the house. I knew he was excited — he was talking fast, moving in a jittery way, and I was sure he wouldn’t sleep that night even if we fucked.

Well, maybe after what I had in mind, he might.

I wanted to spank him first, given how much he loves it, but I also wanted to be mindful of the fact that he was about to get his ass handed to him the next day, so I avoided it. But I didn’t leave his ass alone; I surprised him in the shower, using the wand and lots of soap to make sure he was clean, and then I had him bend over the bed and, for the first time, I spread him apart and used my tongue on him. He tasted like soap and musk, and his opening clenched on my tongue as he squirmed and moaned. I reached under and grabbed his cock, which was hard and throbbing, and stroked it while I fucked him with my tongue, burying it deep inside and then bringing it out and rimming him with quick little flicks. 

Mark could barely catch his breath to tell me how much he wanted more. I caught little gasps and broken-off words, but I knew I was overwhelming him in the best possible way. And, to be truthful, I liked it too; I’d always wondered what it was like to do this, and to do it with someone I loved — even if he was going off to get spanked by someone else tomorrow — made it much more enjoyable. I had him at my mercy, and I licked and flicked and fucked until I felt his cock get thicker and knew he was getting close to orgasm.

When I backed off, he let out a sigh that had a hint of disappointed groan to it. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m not done.”

“Oh good.” His words were a little slurred from the pleasure I’d been giving him. “Please don’t ever stop.”

“Just give me a minute.”

“Okay.”

With Mark bent over the bed facing away from my side of it, I was able to open the bottom drawer of my nightstand without being seen. I took out the strap-on, which I’d already tried on and adjusted, and slid it up my legs, tightening the straps around my waist and thighs. The cock I’d bought to go with it was a little longer than Mark’s but not quite as thick, and while it had a head and a ridge it didn’t have veins along the shaft. Also it was vivid blue, the color of the summer sky.

We kept lube on the nightstand in case we needed it for anything — sometimes I liked Mark to fuck my ass — and I poured some in my hand, stroking it up and down the fake cock until it glistened in the light from our lamps. I added a little more and started working his ass with it, until two fingers easily slipped inside him. I pushed down on his prostate and he groaned loudly, clamping down on me. “Fuck!”

“You like that, huh?”

“You know I do.”

“Good. Then you’ll love this.” I took my fingers away, and before he could think to ask me why, I put the head of the toy against his opening and pushed. It popped in easily and he made sort of a choking noise followed by a sigh. “Do you know what this is?”

“I think so.”

I moved forward a little more, my hands on his hips; I was too curvy to watch the toy go into his ass, but I could tell from the tension in his shoulders and neck that he was feeling what I did when he was doing this to me. Admittedly it took longer for me to get used to the intrusion than he did — I played with his ass pretty often, but when it came to mine I only liked it occasionally — but before long I had the entire cock inside him, and his ass was pressed up against my lower stomach.

“Were you right?”

He nodded, hands fisted tight in the comforter.

“Do you want me to fuck your ass, Mark?”

Another nod. He was clearly too overwhelmed to speak. Which was fine.

I started out slowly, just like he did, easing the cock in and out of his ass in slow, long strokes, all the way out until only the head was held inside him and then all the way in until I could grind my hips against him. For his part Mark was letting out moans and grunts, and after maybe a minute of this he started backing up against me.

Well, fine. I could take a hint. The next time after I pulled out I jerked my hips forward and buried the toy inside him.

He made a sort of long “ahh” sound.

So I did it again.

And again.

He kept making positive sounds, so I held tight to his hips and started to fuck him for real. It wasn’t long before I figured out what it was that he liked so much about this position; our bodies slamming together, the straps between my legs brushing my lips, his happy noises… we’d talked about using a strap-on before, but why had we waited so long? This was fucking awesome.

I had to slow down — my hips and thighs weren’t used to this — but he reached back and grabbed for me. “Don’t stop!” he gasped out. “Please don’t stop!”

“I won’t, but I want to try a different position.” I pulled out of him and stepped back. “Get on the bed, on your back.”

He did it without hesitation, knees bent, legs apart, his cock hard and heavy. I climbed onto the bed and knelt between his legs, and then picked his up, one by one, putting them on my shoulders. It took me a couple of tries to find his ass again, but I did, and I pushed all the way in and stared down at him.

His eyes were closed, but he opened them when he realized I wasn’t moving. “Is everything okay?” His words were breathy.

“Just fine,” I assured him. “You ready?”

“Ready.”

At this angle it was easier to fuck Mark. I had him rolled a little bit up so I could get the right angle, and I knew the slight curve of the toy meant I would be hitting his prostate with every thrust.

There were a lot of thrusts. Our bodies slapped together over and over, and his face got red with exertion, and I’m sure mine did too. I felt sweat break out on my forehead and I reached up to wipe it away before redoubling my efforts. I did what he did to me sometimes — I bent him nearly in half and fucked downward, my weight and my muscles pounding the toy into his ass. He reached up for the headboard and grabbed on tight, head thrashing back and forth, eyes screwed shut. He was really loving this, and so was I. I wanted to come so badly, but there was nothing touching my clit or penetrating me so I knew I couldn’t. I just focused on him.

Soon I caught the signs that he was getting close to coming, even though I wasn’t touching his cock. Was it even possible for him to come like this?

Turns out it was. He groaned loudly and I saw come spurt onto his chest and even as high as his face, hitting his cheek and his chin with wet splattering noises. I swear I almost came right then too; at the very least my own arousal was hitting its high point.

Once Mark was done coming, though, the noise he made as I plunged in again was one of discomfort. I figured it out quickly and moved away, his legs falling to the bed as if boneless. I took off the strap-on and threw it over the side of the bed, and then climbed onto his face and lowered myself to his mouth. I knew I was smearing his come on him, but I didn’t care; I needed an orgasm, and I needed it now.

Mark obliged, grabbing my ass and pulling me closer to his face. His teeth grazed my clit, and then he covered me with his mouth, his tongue on overdrive. It didn’t take me long to grind against his mouth and come all over him; I knew it was a gusher, knew it from the way my body clenched and released. He didn’t stop, though, and soon enough I was coming again, my muscles tightening on his tongue.

But two of those big ones was all I had in me, and I had to get off, wobbly on my knees. I scooted down, straddling his hips, and laid my body on his. The come on his chest smeared against mine, but I didn’t care; I had to kiss him, had to show him how happy I was. He tasted like a combination of both of us and I realized too late where my tongue had just been less than ten minutes prior.

He didn’t seem to mind, so I let it go.

We came up for air some time later and I smiled at him. “Should we do that again?”

“Not right this second,” he said, his lips a little swollen from all the kisses, “but yeah. Please.” A pause. “You liked fucking me?”

I nodded. “You liked when I fucked you?”

He nodded too.

I kissed his cheek, and then gently brushed my lips over his before rolling onto my side and cuddling up beside him. “We probably need showers,” I said softly. “Again.”

“Tomorrow.” He told Google to turn off the bedroom lights, and then dragged the comforter over from his side of the bed, wrapping us like a taco on its side. “Sleep with me.”

“Always.”

But even as his breathing evened out and his muscles went slack, I could only wonder if I’d done enough to keep him.

—

Mark’s meeting with the professional spanker was in the evening, and we both had work all day. I was on pins and needles, and I know I snapped at some people that didn’t deserve it. Afterward I went out for drinks with a couple of friends, and I had to get a ride home because I overdid it.

I was just about sober when I heard the garage open and Mark’s car pull in. Shortly thereafter he was walking into the living room; he eased down onto the couch beside me — I was tucked into one corner — and leaned on me, his arms going around me, his head against my chest.

“How was it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

“Different,” he said. “She didn’t know me as well as you, so sometimes she went too hard or too long before pausing.”

“Hurt a lot?”

“Oh yeah.” He nuzzled me, pushing himself closer; I felt a little claustrophobic, but I did my best to ignore it. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was upset, even though I was. “She used a bath brush. It was really painful.”

“But that’s what you wanted, right?”

“It’s what I always want. It’s why I love you: you always spank me as hard as you can.” He tilted his head up a little, as if angling for a kiss, but I didn’t respond in kind. “She took some pictures with my phone, if you want to see.”

“Not really.” My left arm was around his shoulders, but I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be. “Besides, when we go to bed I’m sure I’ll see whatever marks she left on you.”

“True.” He sounded proud of them, which made sense; he was always thrilled when I bruised his ass, just as much as he was when he bruised mine.

Then I asked the question that had been preying on my mind this whole time: “Do you think you’ll want to do it again?”

“With her? Probably not. But I am curious what it’s like to play with other people.”

My entire chest seemed to implode inward. Mark was mine, and we were monogamous, and he shouldn’t need to get spanked by anyone else.

Damn it.

But I held my feelings in check. “We can talk about it, but you’re probably high on endorphins right now, so it’s not a good time.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” One of his hands found my thigh. His palm was warm through my slacks as he drew it upward, until his thumb was almost brushing between my legs. “You were also right that I got hard during it, but we both ignored it. And even if we hadn’t, I would have saved it for you. I don’t want to fuck anyone else.”

“Not even a pretty young dominatrix?”

He laughed softly. “Not even. And you’re way prettier than she’ll ever be.”

I didn’t know about that; I’d found the woman on Kinkster, where she had photos of herself in various states of undress, and on a purely objective level her body was better than mine. Her breasts were higher, her stomach less curved, her thighs missing the hints of cellulite mine had. I was only forty, but in that moment I had felt ancient compared to her.

Mark slipped his hand between my legs and I let him, but he could tell something was up. “Talk to me,” he said, taking his hand away and sitting up.

“It’s nothing.”

“You lie like a rug.” Most of the time he said it to tease me, but tonight I knew he was serious. “Please, Kelly? Tell me what’s wrong.”

I sighed and leaned my head back, hopeful that the tears that were threatening would remain merely a threat. “I’m just jealous.”

“You don’t have to be. I’m not going to leave you, not for her and not for anyone.” He cupped my cheek and turned my face toward his. “I love you. No amount of spanking is going to change that.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

This time when he leaned in for a kiss I reciprocated it; he was gentle, and didn’t push for more, and it did what it always did. Before too long we were in the bedroom and he was undressing me. He bent me over the bed and knelt behind me, and I felt his breath between my legs.

I might have been jealous, or frustrated, or hurt, but Mark was a good person, and he was very, very good with his mouth. His tongue and lips explained to me, in detail, how much he loved me, and then he added his fingers, pushing down on my g-spot. I came hard, gushing over his hand, and that was all the impetus he needed to stand up, drop his pants, and push his cock into me. He was thick and hard and throbbing, and I clenched tight around him. “Hard,” I moaned. “Fuck me hard.”

Mark took direction quite well. He grabbed onto my hips and thrust into me, over and over, my ass slapping against him. His fingers dug into my flesh, enough that he might leave bruises; it hurt more than I wanted, but I didn’t care; I needed him to fuck me, to show me he belonged to me, and he was only too happy to. Over my own moans and gasps I heard him grunting and growling, and as my next orgasm came close I started jerking my hips back against him so we slammed together even harder. His balls, heavy and full, swung forward and slapped my clit, which was enough to push me over the edge. He didn’t last much longer after that, and his cock pulsed and twitched inside me as he came, the warmth of it spreading through me, a delicious heat.

Once he moved back, easing his cock out of me, I stood up, cupping myself to avoid getting a mess on the carpet, and slipped around him to the bathroom. When I came out, he was naked, standing at the dresser, picking out clothes for tomorrow.

At that angle I got a very good view of his ass, and my heart stopped. He was red and purple, covered with large circular marks that would fill in and become purple bruises by the morning. She’d worked him over in a way that I rarely did — I tended to focus on his sit-spots, but this woman had spanked his entire ass as well as the tops of his thighs. 

I couldn’t look at him. I just… I couldn’t.

I climbed into bed, not bothering to put on any pajamas, and faced away from his side. I did let him cuddle me when he got under the covers, but I didn’t respond. I didn’t push my ass against him; I didn’t reach back and put my hand on his hip.

I’m not sure if he noticed; he fell asleep too quickly. I guess getting spanked like that and then fucking me wore him out.

I wish it had worn me out. I wish I hadn’t stayed up, trapped in his arms, trying not to cry.

He wanted to be spanked by other people.

It was only a matter of time until he wanted more from them, and less from me.

It was all I could think about, all night long.

I was miserable. I was losing him. And there was nothing I could do about it.

—

For the next week, I tried to keep Mark from noticing how unhappy I was, and for the most part it worked. Sometimes I knew I stared off into the middle distance, and he’d ask what was going on, and I’d tell him I was thinking. I guess he was still flying high from his professional spanking. I also watched the bruises on his ass recede and disappear over time, and that made it a little easier for me to pretend like everything was normal.

I wonder if he noticed that I wasn’t spanking him, and that he wasn’t spanking me. We were fucking, yes, and it was as amazing as ever, but it was always from behind — I’d bend over, or get on my elbows and knees, and he’d be only too happy to grab onto my hips and fuck me until we both came. I just didn’t want to see his face, because all I’d think about was how it looked when he was getting spanked by someone else.

It took almost two weeks for him to throw himself, bare-assed, over my lap one evening. “I need a spanking,” he said. I felt his erection against my thigh through my shorts.

Normally he didn’t have to do this; normally I’d tell him he was getting spanked and he’d gladly lie across my lap. He’d get hard and I’d trap his cock between my thighs, which I knew he loved. But I hadn’t really felt like spanking him; all I could think about when I considered doing it was him going over another woman’s lap.

I gave him a few half-hearted whacks, and he knew my heart wasn’t in it. I know he knew. He slid off my lap and knelt in front of me, hands on my thighs, looking up at me. “What is it? Please tell me.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking.”

“That excuse isn’t going to work anymore,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine. I felt tears threaten and I bit my tongue hard to distract myself. “I know we don’t do punishment spankings, but if you don’t start talking to me, I’m going to have to take drastic action.” He said it lightly, trying to tease me a little, but when he saw my face he changed his tune. “Come on, Kelly. I know something’s bothering you.” A pause. “It’s what I did, isn’t it. And what I said after.”

Never let it be said that Mark wasn’t insightful. A little slow on the uptake sometimes, but he got there in the end most of the time.

“I’m not happy about it,” I admitted. “I didn’t like the idea in the first place, but I went along with it because I figured it couldn’t hurt anything.”

“It certainly couldn’t have hurt our relationship. I love you, and no amount of spanking is going to change that.” His voice was sincere, and I knew he wasn’t faking it. We really did love each other quite a lot. He was a good person, and we were a great fit together. “Why didn’t you tell me not to do it? All you had to do was say.”

I sighed. “You seemed so happy with the idea, and I didn’t want to take it away from you. Plus, it was only spanking.”

“But spanking is our thing. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

“No, you deserve to have the experiences you want to have. We talked about it and I decided I was okay with it.”

“You weren’t, though.”

I took a few long, slow breaths. A tear broke free. “No,” I said, my voice husky. “I wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

He moved to the couch and pulled me into his arms. I nuzzled my head against his chest and felt my tears soak into his shirt. “I wish you had told me. I promise I wouldn’t have been mad.”

“Disappointed?”

He thought about that. “Maybe a little, but I would’ve gotten over it because I love you and I respect you. I was just curious.”

“Yeah, but now you’re more curious.” I put my arms around him and held on tight. “Now you want more people to spank you than just me.”

“I’m not going to lie: I do want to know what it’s like. But it’s not worth ruining what we have together. I won’t do it; I won’t explore it. I won’t even think about it.” His words had the ring of truth, of finality. “As long as we’re together, from now on, the only person who spanks me is you.”

Somehow that made me feel worse. “But that’s not what you want!” It was a whine, and I hated myself for it. “Why should I keep you from what you want? What right do I have?”

“You’re my partner.” He said it into my hair, and then he kissed my head. “You’re the most important part of my life. I don’t want to do things that will hurt you.” I felt him smile. “Except in the way you like.”

“But won’t you not doing what you want hurt you? And hurt us in the long term?”

“Kelly, stop.” He squeezed me in his arms and kissed my hair again. “I don’t need to be spanked by anyone else. It was something I wanted to try, but if it’s going to cause us this much difficulty in our relationship, it’s not something I need. As long as you keep spanking me, I don’t need anyone else.”

I knew he wasn’t lying — he didn’t lie to me — but I also knew the interest in others would never really go away. At least he wasn’t asking to spank other people; I didn’t know if I could handle thinking about his hands on some other woman’s backside. And I believed him when he said he didn’t want to sleep with anyone else; he’d told me several times that I was the best he’d ever had, that no one had ever made him feel the way I made him feel. I always got a little charge hearing it, and anyway, the feeling was mutual in a lot of ways. After two years, I was accustomed to the way Mark fucked me, the way he used his mouth on me, the way he spanked me. I didn’t want anyone else.

Not ever.

I started to cry again, and Mark rubbed my back and let me. He didn’t try to shush me, didn’t try to reassure me with words; he just held me and gave me space to feel my feelings.

And, for the first time since all of this started, I finally gave into them. I sobbed and sobbed, gasping for breath, tears pouring from my eyes. My nose ran, and my face swelled up, and by the time I looked up at him I knew I was a mess and a half. But Mark leaned in anyway and kissed me gently. “I love you,” he said. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“I love you too.” The words were a little jittery, but I managed to say them. “I’m sorry about…” A small smile tried to break through. “Sorry about your shirt.”

“It’ll wash out.” His lips found mine again, and to my surprise I responded with more than a little urgency. “Kelly?”

My forehead was against his now, and I was breathing hard. “Make love to me. Please?”

—

My floors were all hardwood; there was no way we were doing it there. Mark led me to the bedroom, undressed me, and then guided me to the bed. He moved as if he was going to go down on me, but I made a negative noise. “That’s not what I want,” I said, my voice hoarse from crying. “Please, make love to me. Please?”

He nodded and situated himself between my thighs. His cock was hard and heavy as he rested it against me, and I was already getting wet just thinking about it. About Mark. About Mark inside me.

He was inside me. It was a slow process as he slid in, spreading me around his cock, filling me up until our bodies were pressed together. He was thick, and without the preparation of his mouth or his fingers it hurt a little bit, but I wanted the pain. I wanted to feel him.

We didn’t fuck, though. We made love, like I’d asked. He leaned down, and I put my legs around his hips, and he moved slowly inside me, smooth strokes that made my body ache for more. Each time he bottomed out, my clit ground against the base of his cock, and my body bloomed and opened to him. We usually went at it harder than this — I liked it hard, and so did he — but he was taking care of me now, giving me what I needed. Giving me all of himself. His eyes stayed locked on mine, and I could see in them how much he loved me. I knew mine reflected my ache for him, and probably also showed how good it felt to have him moving easily with me. My hips rose to meet his as he pushed in, my heels digging into his hips. I put my hands on his chest and slid them up to his shoulders, and then cupped his face. “I love you,” I said.

“I love you.” He jerked his hips forward slightly and his cock slipped into the spot just around my cervix. I sighed, and it became a moan halfway through. “Do you want more?”

I nodded. “I need more. Please.”

Mark nodded, and then, one side at a time, reached down and put my legs over his shoulders.

Then he thrust hard into me, and I cried out, involuntarily but happily.

Now he was fucking me. Now he was plunging his cock into me in heavy, deep strokes. He rose up onto his knees, practically bending me in half, and he pounded into me. My body was accustomed to him by now, and accepted every movement of his cock without protest. His head hit my g-spot over and over, and even though it was hard to breathe I still managed to gasp for breath. I knew I looked ridiculous, my breasts shoved up under my chin, my stomach in an unflattering curve, but Mark didn’t seem to care. He just fucked me, and fucked me, and fucked me, and it wasn’t long before I came, grabbing onto his cock with all of my muscles.

It didn’t stop him from moving, though, and as I fluttered and quivered and clenched and squirmed he kept on going, his eyes still on me — I could feel it even though I’d squeezed my own eyes shut, the better to focus on the sensations of him fucking me. His cock was so hard, and it felt so good, and I wanted to keep on coming, keep on feeling, keep on taking him. I never wanted it to end.

But I knew it had to. I could hear the change in his breathing, feel the difference in how he was moving. “My Kelly,” he rasped. “Mine.”

“Yours,” I agreed without pause. “All yours.”

“Make you mine.” He was too far gone now to care about using complete sentences. “Mine!”

“Yours!” I grabbed at his arms. “I’m yours!”

He pulled back without warning, leaving me empty and open, and I looked down as my body unfolded. He was kneeling between my legs, his cock in his hand, and an instant later a spurt of come landed on my chest.

Then another.

And another.

Then more on my belly, and lower, as he gasped and groaned and stroked himself, covering me with every drop of his come.

“Mine,” he whispered.

“Yours.”

—

After I cleaned off, I came back to bed and straddled Mark’s hips. His cock wasn’t hard anymore, but it was still warm where I pressed against it. I rested my weight on him and kissed him thoroughly. “That was amazing,” I said, my lips on his.

“You’re amazing.”

I smiled and kissed him some more.

“I’m sorry I was such a drama queen.”

“You’re entitled.” He ran his hands through my thick hair, over my shoulders, and down to my ass, which he grabbed like he always did. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“Let’s agree that we’re both sorry,” I said, “and forget about it.”

“Gladly.” Another kiss. “Still want a spanking?”

“Maybe later.”

“Okay.” I was happy with that answer. I just wanted to be with him now, to feel his body under mine. I cuddled him as best I could in that position, nuzzling his neck. He smelled good, like the soap he used and the scent of his skin underneath it. 

We didn’t get around to doing any spanking that night, but after work the next day I bent him over the couch, pulled down his jeans and shorts, and laid into him as hard as I could, first with my hand and then with the hairbrush we kept in the living room for this very reason. His ass went pink and then red as I spanked him, and when I reached underneath to grab his cock he was extremely hard and already throbbing.

Good.

We both ended up naked on the couch, his cock between my thighs; his ass was straight up, which allowed me to slam the brush straight down. I knew it hurt him, probably more than he wanted, but at that point I didn’t much care; I wanted to spank him, wanted to mark him, wanted to show him I was just as good as anyone else. I wondered if he’d made the same noises when the other woman had spanked him; he was groaning and grunting as the brush made contact with his ass, though he was smart enough not to pull away, and anyway with his cock trapped I’m sure he didn’t want to.

I didn’t stop spanking him until my shoulder was sore and my hair was slick with sweat. By then his ass was glowing red, and I saw a few small circular marks that would undoubtedly become bruises. He was gasping for breath as he looked back over his shoulder to me. “That… was a lot.”

“I know.” I was breathing a little hard as well. “And I’m not done.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“You’d better not be.” I released the tension in my thighs. “Go bend over the bed.”

He was only too happy to do so. I think he thought I was going to fuck his ass again, but that wasn’t on the menu tonight. Instead, I followed him into the bedroom and, from inside the closet, took out the paddle I refused to let him use on me. It was a couple of feet long and six inches across, with beveled holes in it, and it weighed a ton.

I was going to show Mark just how much of a spanking I could give him.

The first crack! of wood on flesh made him jump and cry out. “Fuck!”

“Shut up,” I said, but not in a mean way. I didn’t often get this toppy with him — our spankings were mostly of the fun variety — but I wanted to be in charge.

I whacked him again, and this time he moaned.

A third whack, and now a big paddle bruise flashed up, white against his red skin.

A fourth, and another, this one on the other side.

Good. Marks like that would definitely turn purple, and that was what I wanted. I wanted to see his marks for the next few days. I wanted to watch his ass change colors. I wanted him to know I could spank as well as any professional.

So I spanked him again with the paddle. And again. And again. I slammed the heavy wood against his ass and he let out noises just this side of unhappy. Our very first night together, he’d told me to spank him as hard as I could, and I had done that. But two years later we had built a bond of trust, and he trusted me to go until I was finished, whether he wanted it or not.

And I knew after a couple dozen swats with this paddle that he had moved from happy pain to plain old pain.

I wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

I swung hard, in wide arcs, the paddle jolting his entire body when it hit him. His skin was starting to purple, from the middle of his ass down to the tops of his thighs — the paddle was that big. My shoulder was aching, but I kept whacking him, kept reminding him with each swat that I was the best spanker he’d ever have, that he should never again ask for someone else. I didn’t use words, but then, I didn’t need to. This spanking wasn’t even for him; it was for me. It was to prove to myself that I could be what he needed.

One final swat, then, which drew a hoarse cry from his throat, and I threw the paddle onto the bed and moved to stand behind Mark, his ass on fire where it pressed up against my body. I knew he wasn’t hard anymore; his body was shaking a little, his knees weak, and I leaned down and ran my hands over his back. “It’s okay,” I told him. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah.” His voice was very small. “That was a lot.”

“I know.” I helped him to his feet and he slid down to his knees. I sat on the bed and he put his head in my lap. I stroked his hair. He wasn’t crying — he didn’t cry from spankings — but I could tell how full of emotion he was. Emotion and agony. “You’re okay. You did great.”

“Thanks.” His breath was warm against my thighs, and he leaned into my fingers as I scratched his head and neck. “You’ve never spanked me that hard before.”

“Did you like it?”

“If you liked it, I liked it.”

That wasn’t quite the response I’d been looking for, but I knew it was honest; Mark liked being spanked, yes, but he also liked how much it turned me on. I wasn’t turned on at the moment, not really, but I was satisfied.

After a few minutes Mark struggled to his feet and went into the bathroom. I followed him and found him looking at his ass in the mirror. “Shit,” he breathed. “Do you ever want me to sit down again?”

“Hadn’t really thought about it.” I ran one hand over his ass and he winced. “Nice and warm.”

“I bet.” He pulled me into his arms and hugged me hard. “You okay?”

“I… I think so.”

“Good.” He was holding me so tightly that it was almost hard to breathe. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

We went back to the bedroom and got into bed together, Mark on his front with a pillow tucked under his chin and me on my side, on one elbow, my free hand rubbing his shoulders. We stayed that way for a long while, not talking, just enjoying the companionable silence. And, at least on his part, enjoying the throbbing in his backside. Or, if not enjoying, then at least experiencing.

It was rare that spanking didn’t lead to sex for us — even when we played in public, we’d touch and tease each other — but I must have gone too far. When we got in bed, I was the big spoon, and his ass was still warm where it tucked up against me. I reached around and felt for his cock, and it grew in my hand. He pressed back with his backside and moaned a little as I started to stroke him.

“Turn on your back,” I told him.

“You’re joking, right?”

I squeezed his cock hard. “You want a blowjob, right?”

That did it. He eased over onto his back and I turned in bed, swinging my leg over him and settling myself onto his face. He was only too happy to grab on and bury his mouth inside me, and I almost forgot for a moment what I was supposed to be doing. That was the problem with this position — Mark’s mouth felt so good that I couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

So I didn’t bother. I let go of his cock and pushed myself up into a sitting position, literally sitting on his face. His tongue and lips worked at me as I smothered him, barely giving him enough room to breathe, and he didn’t seem to care. He loved when I did this, loved having me in this position, and I rather enjoyed it as well. I ground down on his mouth as he fucked me with his tongue, both his hands on my ass. He wasn’t quite able to reach my clit, but I was only too happy to help, touching myself with my left hand, using my right to keep my balance. Between his mouth and my fingers I felt an orgasm rise inside me, filling me to bursting.

Then I exploded, feeling myself gush over his face. He licked and lapped and sucked, and I teased my clit until it was so sensitive that I knew I couldn’t hold off anymore. I shifted my weight and knee-walked my way down until I could sit on Mark’s cock, my ass facing him. I leaned forward, hands on the bed between his legs, and started to fuck him that way. It was rare that we did this position, because he couldn’t reach much and I knew he loved to touch me, but I wanted to fuck him, not the other way around. I slammed my hips down on him, over and over, one hand moving between my legs, and he moaned loudly as I came again.

“I…” He was struggling for breath, and I knew the pressure on his hips was pushing his ass into the bed, which probably didn’t feel great. “I was promised… a blowjob?” He tried to sound like he was joking, but it didn’t come out that way.

I didn’t care. I rode him hard, working my clit frantically with my fingers until I came a third time, his cock filling me over and over. His noises turned me on even more, and I knew he was getting close, but I managed a fourth orgasm before I had to climb off. When I turned around, his cock was throbbing and slick; I swallowed him to the hilt, forcing myself not to gag, and cupped his balls with one hand.

He lost control then, surging upward against my mouth, his come spurting down my throat. I did gag then, coughing and pulling back, but I managed to hold onto his head between my lips and swallow every bit of his come, until he was making uncomfortable noises as I flicked my tongue over the head of his cock.

We were both exhausted afterward, sated and happy, clutching each other close, breathing hard.

“Wow,” he murmured after a while.

“Wow?”

“Yeah.”

“Good wow?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “As long as you can do all of that after, you can beat my ass as hard as you want.”

“Like I ever needed your permission.”

He laughed hoarsely. “Well, that’s true.”

—

Mark never again asked me to let someone else spank him, and I never requested that either. I did make sure to spank him often — if I left bruises on his ass, the moment they were gone, I’d spank him again — and he obliged by putting me over his lap and doing the same. It was in that position, a few months later, when he paused between swats and asked me if he could do this forever.

“As long as you can.”

I felt him put a ring on my finger — I had no idea where he’d been keeping it — and then he went back to what he was doing.

—

No one at the wedding knew how bruised both our backsides were that day, and honestly it didn’t matter. We were going to spank each other for the rest of our lives, and that suited us both just fine.

THE END