another drink at the bar but i'm not drunk enough

“I’m just trying to understand you.” His left hand curls round my waist, holding me in place as his palm leaves my behind and lands hard, just above the junction of my thighs. The pain connects directly with the ache in my belly.Oh man . . . I moan loudly. He hits me again, in exactly the same place. I groan again.“Two,” he murmurs. “We’ll go with twelve.”Oh my! This feels different than the last time—so carnal, so . . . necessary. He caresses my behind with his long-fingered hands, and I’m helpless, trussed up and pressed into the mattress, at his mercy, and of my own free will. He hits me again, slightly to the side, and again, to the other side, then pauses as he slowly peels my panties down and pulls them off. He gently trails his palm across my behind again before continuing my spanking—each stinging smack taking the edge off my need—or fueling it—I don’t know. I surrender myself to the rhythm of blows, absorbing each one, savoring each one.

“Twelve,” he murmurs his voice low and harsh. He caresses my behind again and trails his fingers down toward my sex and slowly sinks two fingers inside me, moving them in a circle, round and round and round, torturing me.I moan loudly as my body takes over, and I come and come, convulsing around his fingers. It’s so intense, unexpected, and quick.“That’s right, baby,” he murmurs appreciatively. He unties my wrists, keeping his fingers inside me as I lie panting and spent over him.

He bends and kisses my shoulder then pulls out of me. Placing his arms around me, he rests his head in the middle of my back, and we lie like this, both kneeling at the bedside, for what? Seconds? Minutes even as our breathing calms. My bellyache has disappeared, and all I feel is a soothing, satisfying serenity.He stirs and kisses my back. “I believe you owe me a dance, ” he murmurs.