Fun Dirty Girl

Playtime with Tammy isn't confined to when we're together in my apartment. I had little experience with text-messaging before I knew her, but now I smile with anticipation when I see the little envelope icon appear on my cell phone.

I hit the button and a message from Tammy pops up: "I lyk U lic me." It's enough to trigger the memory of her scent and make my mouth water. I'm in the produce section of Publix, and I sense a tightening in the crotch of my jeans. I notice a MILF in a yellow tanktop, high-beams on. A young black woman with a slinky sway to her stride passes pushing a cart. I'm suddenly wondering how my U.S. prime fellow shoppers would look if they slipped in and out of something comfortable, and about the sound of their sighs if I were to brush my lips just beneath an ear as fingers delved between slightly parted thighs.

I flashed back to an earlier time in a different town in another supermarket. There was a young brunette who worked in the meat department. Her bedroom eyes caught mine and stirred the meat lover in me. We flirted for weeks. I was so smitten, even my friends knew about it. "They'd ask, any luck with the meat lady yet?" I tried. Asked her out a few times, but predictably, she had a boyfriend. Finally she did agree to meet me at a bar that had a live band on Thursday nights. We danced, flirted, got a bit tipsy. She'd ridden over with friends but let me drive her back to where she worked to pick up her car.

Before she got out I managed to coax a kiss, then another. It started getting steamy in the car, her lips wet and eager, the vodka on her breath intoxicating. I got some buttons undone and my hand inside her blouse, rubbing soft, firm breasts through a sheer bra. Thumb teasing eraser-hard nips that I had often noticed making an impression in her Winn Dixie uniform.

She pulled back catching her breath and said, "I can't." But then started kissing me again. I moved my hand between her thighs and under her skirt. Got far enough to feel the heat through soft panties before she stopped me. "I really can't do this, I have a boyfriend."

And that was that. I started dating someone else, switched to another supermarket and didn't think of the "meat lady" again, until now. I realize I'm staring too intently at another brunette waiting for sliced ham. She notices. I smile, say "'scuse me," and move on.

This is all Tammy's fault. Not that I mind. It's the added benefit of being blessed with a fun, dirty girl stimulating my erotic imagination, enhancing awareness of sensual possibilities, intensifying desire. You never feel as alive as when involved in a lust-filled adventure, nor as wanton. Suddenly, all the melons in Publix look more enticing.

Often she'll text, "I need 2 cum." Sometimes she'll send a photo taken with her camera phone to emphasize the point. I've gotten close-up photos showing her blouse unbuttoned revealing cleavage and a shear bra and of her bare breasts with shirt and bra pulled up.

The other day the photo was taken under her skirt showing panty-covered mound.

I texed back, "Cum 4 Me."

"Cant. At work."

I knew that hadn't stopped her before. So I phoned and said, "Go in the restroom and make yourself cum for me. And I want to see a picture as proof."

She laughed. "You're so bad. I can't do that."

"Not as bad as you. And yes, you can."

I hung up and waited. It took a while before the photo arrived. It showed her legs spread wide, panties pushed aside and fingers in her slit. The camera phone doesn't have the sharpest resolution, but her pussy looked wet. It had to be.

Her message read: "Cum on this."

Hours later the episode is still on my mind. I call up the photo again and feel a surge of desire, imagining peeking in the bathroom stall watching her on the toilet stroking off, going crazy but trying hard to stifle any sounds of ecstasy. I'm feeling jittery and trying to decide what to do about it. I go to the computer and scan through the day's gallery on my favorite amateur photo site, then start reading some favorite sex blogs. I'm massaging the head of my cock through a pair of gray sports shorts when the doorbell rings.

I can't contain my smile when I open the door. Tammy is standing there looking smug but sheepish.

"You won't believe what I did. I was really naughty."

As she walked in the door, she swung her butt back into my hip and looked back with big, moony eyes. "And it's your fault."

"My fault that you were naughty?"

"Mmm, huhhhh."

She was walking kind of slinky, back arched to accentuate that alluring ass. All for my benefit. She appeared to be wearing her work clothes: tight black slacks and a flowery blouse. Her face was slightly flushed. She sat on the couch and made me coax the story out of her. I plied her with an Appleton run-and-orange, and rubbed her feet.

"So what was so naughty?"

"I did the married guy from work." My eyebrows raised. "The Latino guy, Carlos."

"The one from the Hummer with your other friend? I didn't know he was married."

"At first I thought he just had a girlfriend, but turns out he's married. Ever since that other time he's been flirting with me, trying to get me to go to bed with him. He's been saying, "I'll get us a room. Just say the word.' I kept telling him, "You're married, the word is no."

"Until today?"

"You had me so worked up with what you told me to do on the phone, so this afternoon when he brought up the room thing, I said, 'What's the room number?' He said, 'Are you serious?' I said, 'Are you?' I told him, 'It better not be a dump or I'll walk right out.' "

"So where was it?"

"Embassy Suites. He even had champagne. I'm bad, huh."

"I don't know. What do you think? It was his choice. You just called his bluff."

"He must have thought so, 'cuz he spanked me."

"He did?"

"He was doing me from behind. Really hard. I love it like that. And then he started smacking my ass."

"Did you like it?"

"I was surprised at first. But then, I have to say, it really got me off. I started saying, 'Yes, oh, yes!' Really loud. And I was cumming like crazy."

"Have you been spanked before?"

"Well, not like that. Not having sex. But I've thought about it. And I have to say, I do think I liked it."

She was blushing now, looking embarrassed but wild eyed and almost bouncing in her seat on the couch. Then she said, "Wanna see?" and jumped up. I watched her unsnap her slacks and slide the zipper down, then wiggle them down enough to turn and show me the red spot on her ass. She stood and bent at the waist, swaying side to side as she looked back over her shoulder at her own ass and at me. The mark wasn't clearly defined, just a general rosy hue, more so on the right cheek but some on the left as well. Must have been some heat there because it radiated right through me.

She reached back, touched the spot and made a hissing sound, like a drop of water on a hot stove. She giggled as she pulled her slacks up and zipped them.

"See, it's good to be bad sometimes."

"So you've been spanked before, just not during sex."

She blushed. "Hasn't everyone?"

"When was the last time?"

She hid her eyes behind a hand, then peeked between her fingers. "High school."

"You were spanked in high school? Really? I didn't think they still did that."

"They did where I went to school. We lived farther up the state then. It's a little more old-fashioned there."

It didn't take much to get the story out of her. The day's event obviously had brought the memory back and it was on her mind. She wanted to talk about it.

She'd been sent to the office for repeatedly talking in class. While sitting in a waiting area she heard another student being paddled. The distinct sound of three solid swats a few seconds apart resounded from inside the principal's office.

As the realization of what was happening heightened her own anxiety, the door suddenly opened and the girls' gym teacher, a stern, scary woman, strode out. A couple minutes later the door opened again and a girl emerged looking upset, her red eyes briefly making contact with Tammy's, as if to convey, "You're next."

"You must have been scared. Did you get three swats, too?"

"I didn't get any that time. I just got a lecture. He told me if I got sent to his office again I'd get paddled like that other girl."

"Did you know her?"

"Her name was Karla. I knew who she was. She was known as a fast girl, kind of tough. But she was OK. We'd had a biology class together and had been in the same lab, so we knew each other."

After Tammy left the principal's office with a warning and relief of avoiding the paddle, she stopped in the restroom on the way to lunch and the girl who'd just been spanked was in there splashing water on her face, regaining her composure. She asked Tammy if she'd gotten it, too."

"She told me the first time she got the warning, too. The second time she got one swat with the paddle."

"This was her third time, so she got three swats?"

"I asked her if it hurt a lot. She said, "Hell, yeah!' "

There wasn't anyone else in the restroom. The girl motioned Tammy to follow her into one of the toilet stalls. She unzipped her jeans and wiggled them down enough to reveal her freshly paddled rear.

"I remember her skin was pretty light, like mine and her ass was bright red like a sunset."

Then Karla did something else that stunned Tammy. As she refastened her jeans, she leaned close and confided: "As bad as it hurts, and it feels like my butt is on fire, I'm horny as hell."

"She left and I realized I was horny, too. I sat down to pee and I was soaking wet. I couldn't believe it."

"It's pretty common to be turned on by the thought of getting spanked."

Tammy confided that she'd felt that way before. She'd been spanked a few times when she was much younger. She dreaded when it happened, but at the same time recalled experiencing an odd excitement that at the time she couldn't understand. In her early teens she had a friend who was spanked occasionally by her parents, and Tammy was always intrigued to hear the details.

"So when did you get paddled by the principal?"

"It was near the end of that school year, my junior year. A couple of boys got paddled and there was a lot of talk about it. I saw one of the boys leaving after school. I didn't know him, but I looked at him and he looked at me. I wondered how he felt, and I'll admit I imagined him pulling his pants down and showing me. That thought got my juices flowing and I remembered what Karla had said to me. It was a few months after that.

"I kept thinking about the boys getting paddled, and Karla, and I got so horny I played with myself after I got home and again that night before I could get to sleep. I just came and came and came."

"So you decided to find out what it was like to get paddled yourself."

"I didn't come right out and plan it. But there was a class I didn't do the homework for and didn't want to go to this one day. So I skipped it and left school, and got caught when I was coming back."

Tammy found herself back in the waiting area outside the principal's office. He called her in, sat her down and gave another lecture, recalling the warning he'd given the previous time. When the door opened and the girls' P.E. teacher entered the room, she knew what was coming.

"Did the gym teacher paddle you?"

"She did the girls. He paddled the boys. There always had to be two of them there so there was a witness."

"Were you freaking out?"

"I was scared, but I kept telling myself that it couldn't be that bad and I knew I was curious to know what it was like."

The principal told Tammy she would receive one swat for her indiscretion. He took the paddle off a hook on the wall and handed it to the P.E. teacher.

"It was dark wood and I noticed it had holes in it. I guessed it was so it would move through the air faster. Anyway, it looked scary."

"How did they make you stand."

"Ms. Lazkowski told me to bend over and put my hands on the principal's desk. I started to, and she told me move my feet apart and farther away from the desk. That caused me to lean on the desk and made my ass stick up more."

"Did you close your eyes?"

"I kept them open. I wanted to try to see when it was coming so I could tense up. The principal told me to keep looking straight ahead. I felt her touch my butt with the paddle, and then there was this loud crack. I actually heard it before I felt it."

"Then you felt it."

"It was like Karla said. Like my ass was on fire, or like the sting of a thousand bees. I wanted to rub it, but not in front of them. I don't even remember what they said to me after it was over."

"So I'm trying to picture the scene clearly. I think maybe you should show me exactly how they made you stand."

Tammy looked at me with surprise, her eyes wide. Then a wave of realization passed over her face. Without a word she stood up, bent forward and placed her hands on the cushion.

"No, feet farther apart. And put your hands on the back of the couch."

I took a moment to enjoy the sight of Tammy bent over the couch, feet as wide as her shoulders, ass swaying slightly. The girl was fully clothed, yet the scene was more erotic than if she were naked on her back with her legs spread. The realization that she was positioned, waiting for me to spank her had my cock instantly pitching a tent in my shorts.

I'll admit that I'm also intrigued by the idea of spanking. And, I'll admit I once got a swat in middle school as part of a group that tossed a kid out of the locker room clothes after gym class. Even the gym teacher considered the kid a royal pain in the ass. But he couldn't let us get away with it. The mark and the sting lasted a few days. It was worth it.

In the heat of passion I've delivered an occasional love smack to spice the moment. But I'd never had the opportunity to carry out a ritualistic meeting out of punishment as Tammy was now waiting to receive.

I moved up next to her and admired the finely shaped target covered in soft, black fabric. She glanced back at me as if to say, don't be too hard on me.

"Don't look at me. Keep your eyes forward. You know you deserve this, don't you."

She turned her head back toward the couch but didn't reply.

"I said, you know you have this spanking coming, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me why?"

"I've been bad. Very bad."

At that moment I swung my right arm and caught her square in the middle of that finely shaped ass. Like in her memory, the sound of the smack registered before the shock of the impact on my palm. The force pushed her slightly toward the couch. She arched her back and wiggled her ass slightly, almost taunting me, as she regained her balance. She glanced back with a look of wide-eyed defiance.

"I told you not to look back here. You do understand that you deserve to have your naughty ass spanked, don't you?" I was doing my best to sound stern while my cock throbbed with lust.

"Yes, I've been naughty."

The second swat came with more force and landed on her left cheek and the heel of my hand so that it jarred my arm all the way to the elbow.

"Ow." "It's supposed to sting so you know you've been bad," I said, not letting on that it hurt me, too. "This is the third time you've been in trouble. At least the third time you've been caught. You know what that means."

The third swat surprised both of us. I swung from a lower angle and caught her with the upswing on the underside of her ass. The contact was so pure, like connecting with the sweet spot of a baseball bat on a fastball that I didn't feel it. It was as if my hand continued right through her. The crack resounded like a gunshot, and she stood up and did a little dance as the bees played a chorus on her behind.

"Wait. What you've done is more severe than skipping class. Your additional punishment will be administered in my bedroom. Now undo your pants."

I'm not sure where I was getting my disciplinarian act, but I was going to see where it would go, as long as she was willing. She looked at me momentarily. I thought she might just tell me to go fuck myself. But then she reached down and unzipped her slacks. I pulled them down and helped her step out of them.

She had on pale blue panties that concealed most of the crimson inflaming her backside. I realized I was the second guy to see them today. I took her arm and led her on the walk of shame into the bedroom and directed her onto hands and knees on the bed.

"Keep your head down and that naughty ass in the air like the bad girl you are."

Whatever exactly that meant, it sounded authoritative. And there it was, presented like the special de jour for my spanking pleasure. The first couple of swats were administered with panties up. I admired the way her flesh and panty material rippled on contact. She moaned and wiggled slightly.

"Stay still or you're going to invite more severe punishment."

With both hands I grasped the waistband of her panties and began peeling them slowly, very slowly over the contour of her ass, revealing the reddened glow in contrast to the surrounding whiteness of her skin.

She made a sound as if to protest, and I smacked her on the freshly uncovered right side of her ass. I dragged the panties a bit lower and smacked her again on the left side. I directed her to move her knees farther apart until the panties were stretched tight around her upper thighs.

Pausing for a moment, I admired Tammy in the classic ostrich pose. The rear view is at once the most obscene and most provocative of a woman's sex. It's all right there – the ripe, juicy peach, neatly split and beckoning to pick a hole, either hole. In this instance it was all neatly framed by the taut panties and the red glow of her freshly spanked ass. I wanted to dive in and taste every curve and crevice. But first I needed to finish this passion play.

As I peeled her panties down the rest of the way and off, I glanced at my cock tenting my gray shorts. A dark spot the size of a half-dollar revealed where the head drooled for a piece of the action. Before continuing Tammy's spanking, I leaned close to catch a whiff of her arousal, one hand resting on the upper curve of her ass. With the other hand I dragged down my own shorts and let them fall to the floor as my cock sprang to attention.

The remaining flurry of the spanking was delivered with short, quick strokes, adding a snap of the wrist. The swats sounded harder than they were. I sought stimulation rather than humiliation, aiming to get the bees buzzing in her behind to jangle the nerve endings and fan the flame of desire.

It seemed to work as she buried her face into the bedspread and arched her back, presenting the most tantalizing target. The sight, the scent was making me crazy. With one hand resting on Tammy's ass, I leaned close, close enough to feel heat on my cheek. Was it the energy released by the spanking or the cauldron of simmering sex?

I let my cheek touch her and felt the heat radiate through my face. She pressed back, craving the softer contact, no doubt seeking comfort from the punishment. I stayed there and inhaled deeply, taking in the intoxicating blend of vapors. Moving behind her, I kissed the left check as I brought my hand down on the right one. She moaned deep in her throat. I switched sides and played the same duet, and she rocked back.

My tongue slipped naturally into the valley and rimmed that tight rosebud as I reached between her legs and cupped and pressed her mound. I tapped it with my fingers, administering light pussy spanks, and she made sounds and uttered words I couldn't make out. The tangy taste inflamed me, and I swabbed my tongue over her rear opening until my saliva cascaded into her pussy channel, a few drops dribbling onto the bed.

She made mewling noises and continued her hips as I found the swollen bud of her clit. I pinched it at the base and tugged it rhythmically, and she cried out with need.