The Pinening

Drea (short for Andrea) and I had been an item for a couple of years. She was married but flirtatious and it didn't take much to pry her away from her husband a couple afternoons a week. It was her first affair, she said -- she told me she had once met a man from the Internet in a hotel room and made out with him but then ran out when he went to unbutton her britches. It sounded plausible; she was much too spunky to have had nothing at all happen, though she was happily in love with her husband. She and I happened to brush arms once when we were talking and the spark led to a fire, and she was easily the most adventurous and the hottest sex partner I had ever had. And I had had a lot. And so had she, she told me, mostly in that first wild year away at college, and then she settled down, relatively speaking. Drea volunteered at a charity organization, working in an administrative office, which gave her a flexible excuse for getting out of the house when she wanted. Her husband worked an unpredictable schedule but if he was home she could always tell him she was going to work when she came to meet me.

She liked to blow me in the car. We would pull over somewhere and she would lean over the gear shift and suck me dry, slurping up every last drop. She did not expect or even want these generous acts to be reciprocated, she just liked to do it. In conversations she told me that she had only given one blow job before she was married, and when the guy came in her mouth she threw up. But obviously she and her husband had worked on this shortcoming of hers. He had clearly taken the time to teach her what to do and she had practiced to learn the advanced techniques. She was very confident in her cocksucking skill and really knew how to deliver a huge amount of pleasure with her mouth. She simply loved to do it. In all this time I had never seen her spill or even drool a drop.

Besides roadside blow jobs, we would often park and I would play with her pussy, sitting in the front seat. She would wear a summer dress or pants with an elastic waist, and I would get my fingers on her clit and that girl would have unlimited orgasms. She would sit there happily while I touched her, moaning when I did something she liked, guiding me with her body language and nonverbal sounds, and then she would throw her head back laughing -- she almost always laughed when she came -- and convulse crazily until it passed, and then we would do it again. I swear, in a half hour she could have twenty orgasms that way. At other times we would go to her sister's house. The sister was at work, Drea had a key, there was usually some coffee still warm on the stove; we made the bed afterwards and the sister never knew that we had been fucking our brains out in her bed. We also enjoyed one another's company for lunch or shopping occasionally, as well, strolls in the park, it wasn't all sex.

With her stable marriage and our flexible schedules, we had it made; it was all fun and almost nothing in terms of commitment. My job involved driving around town a lot; nobody really knew where I was and no one asked any questions as long as I got my assignments done. Drea and I would meet up for lunch and some fun in the car, or go to her sister's, then she'd go home or to work and I'd finish my workday, and it was satisfying and mostly hassle-free.

Naturally, this peaceful arrangement could not go on forever. One day after we had had lunch at a Burmese place we went for a little walk on a cool fall afternoon before we had to get back to our respective responsibilities, when some random-looking but well-dressed guy walked out of a doorway and threw his arms around her. "Drea," he slobbered happily, "I am surprised to see you here." He seemed to know her pretty well, as he reached out to pull her head toward his for a kiss. She ducked and laughed and said, "Henry, let me introduce you to my friend Jerry." There were a few seconds of light conversation and she told Henry that we had to hurry. He stood on the sidewalk behind us, I could see him in a reflection watching us walk away, with a puzzled expression on his face.

Around the corner, Drea slipped her arm into mine as we strolled. "Who was that?" I asked her.

"Who was who? Oh him," she said. "That was a guy I work with, I think his name is Henry."

"Yes, that does seem to be his name," I said. "Does he always kiss you when he sees you?"

"Kiss me? What do you mean? He didn't kiss me."

"He tried to," I said. For some reason I was experiencing a feeling of amusement over this cat-and-mouse word-game of hers. Drea was clearly trying to bullshit me about this other guy, trying to deny everything while teasing me with the fact that there was obviously something going on. Sh was trying to lie to me without actually telling a lie. Was it possible she had two of us? Actually, I realized as we walked along, yes it was easily possible. With her work schedule her husband never knew where she really was, but neither did I. Of course I couldn't call her if she was home with the husband, so if she said that's where she was, she was free of me. I had not been thinking of it that way until now.

All this ran through my mind like lightning. Everything had seemed fine and cool and now I suddenly realized I might have been gullible, my head in the clouds while I was enjoying her good treats. I had assumed some things about our relationship that, on second thought, were not fully justified. Drea could be fucking the whole town for all I knew.

Now the funny thing is that I would not care if she did that. I didn't own her. I did not like the idea of licking her pussy after some other fucker had sprayed his semen into it, but other than that I sort of admired the idea that she had the chutzpah to fool me, as well as this Henry, and who knows who else. Her high-octane sex drive was matched by her cunning and intelligence. I found it charming to think that she was slutting around behind my back without leaving a clue, though it was irritating to think she had been lying to me about it. If I'm being a dog, I intend to be Top Dog, if you know what I mean.

"He wasn't trying to kiss me," she asserted.

I said, "Look, I don't know how dumb you think I am, but I know what I just saw."

"No you don't."

"And let me tell you, if you're fucking some other asshole it doesn't bother me."

"I'm not," she insisted, a whine creeping into her voice.

"But here's the thing for me," I said. "I do not like being lied to. Do you get that? I do not like to be deceived. If you have other guys, fine, but you need to tell me about them."

"I don't have any other guys," she said, sounding just like a liar.

"I don't care if they know about me," I continued. "But I want to know about them. Hey, it could be fun, after you're with one of these other fuckheads you can tell me all about it. This could be a new part of our relationship, sharing your true porn stories in gory, dripping detail."

"You are terrible," she said. "I am not seeing anyone else, and if I did I sure wouldn't tell you about it."

We continued walking, arm in arm. My brain was going a hundred miles an hour, recalculating everything in light of this new perspective. "So," I said, "It does not work for me to be in the dark about this. It is not cool for you to be seeing other people and hiding it from me. Puts me at a disadvantage, and I don't like that."

"I'm not seeing anyone," she said. She sounded like she was reading lines from a teleprompter.

"Don't treat me like I'm dumb," I said. "If you are going to be running around, then I want to get something out of the deal, too."

We walked in silence. She didn't know where I was going with this, and I didn't know, either. One part of me was full of appreciation for this sexual dynamo that fate had delivered into my undeserving life, this energetic cutie who couldn't get enough and didn't care about anybody but herself and her own libido. I could see how she would enjoy keeping everyone in the dark while she was juggling lovers and alibis and making everyone feel special. I mean, that's not the kind of woman you let go, you know?

Finally the silence broke her and she spoke: "I don't know what you're saying, getting something out of what deal?"

Out of the corner of my eye I watched her watch me out of the corner of her eye.

It was a kind of impulsive moment, but it felt right and I went with it. "You know what I should do? I should give you a spanking every time you lie to me."

She stopped, pulling her arm out of mine. "What?"

I was smiling now. Well for one thing, you should see Drea's butt. She is slender but the curves of her ass swell up behind her in the most sensuous way. She does not have a "big" butt but she has a fine round one. Just right for spanking. I'm pretty sure everyone who sees her from behind has at least a nanosecond of spanking fantasy. At least.

"Yes, actually, I like this idea," I said.

"I haven't lied to you," she said, "So it will never happen, so just stop talking about it."

"Uh huh," I said. "And out of the blue comes Harold or Hugo or whatever. The only thing that makes sense is that you are trying to provoke me to pull your panties down and spank your bottom till it's blistered. So okay, I'd be happy to give you what you want."

"You are crazy," she said. I had known her for years and I would have bet money that her pussy was wet at that moment. "You want to beat me, for nothing? No way."

"Maybe I'm wrong," I said, smiling. "In that case you deserve a spanking for making me think something that is not true. The deal is this. You keep enjoying yourself, and now to keep it fair I will enjoy myself, too. By smacking your bottom till it burns. By watching you squirm and cry. It will be fine, you can continue to see Harry or Hank or whatever his name is, and whoever else you're fucking around with, and I will spank you when I find out, or when I don't find out, or when I don't know if I have found out or not."

She did not have a response to that.

"Okay, I'll tell you what," I said. "This one was a surprise. I really didn't see it coming and I know you didn't plan on this either, and we had not talked about it. So this time I am not going to spank you. But let me tell you, it will be a lot better for you next time if you just honestly fill me in on what's going on between you and this character, or anybody else. Tell me all about it and maybe your ass will survive."

"I told you, there's nothing to tell," she said. "He works in my office, I hardly know him."

"So why did he try to kiss you?"

"I don't know," she said. "That was dumb."

"Tell me about him."

"It's nothing," she said. "He's just a big flirt. That's all, he's like that with everybody."

"I don't care about everybody," I said. "Tell me what has happened between him and you."

"Nothing has happened," she said. "We just work together."

"How stupid do you think I am?"

The obvious response, "I think you are very stupid," would clearly not have worked in this moment.

"Okay," I said after a while. "Don't tell me. We'll see what happens next." I'm afraid I might have sounded too cheerful about this. It actually didn't bother me if she was fucking around. I did mind if she was lying to me, and I definitely enjoyed the image of her bare butt pinkening over my knee.

We had gone around the block and returned to my car. She got into the passenger seat and I got behind the wheel and fired it up with a civilized roar. "I like that dress on you," I said.

"Thank you," she said in the courteous tone she had learned as a little girl.

"Take your panties off," I said.

She looked at me. "I'm not in the mood for that," she said.

"I am."

We came to the quiet parkway along the creek where we had often parked. I pulled off the road under a shady oak tree. Traffic was light and fast, nobody would see us as they raced past. Drea had not pulled her panties down but I pulled her skirt up and slipped my hand under her elastic. I dredged a finger from her vagina, forward between her labia, avoiding the clit for now.

"You're wet," I said.

"It's just sweat," she said.

"Maybe you are picturing the spanking you will be getting."

"Yuck," she said.

"I see." I tickled her pussy with my fingertips, south to north to south, and finally pressed on her clitoris and wiggled my finger -- she sat bolt upright with a grunt. She tried not to, but her body began shaking and she was moaning softly as the orgasm wracked her.

"You son of a bitch," she said.

"So it was the spanking, wasn't it," I said to her.

"No way." I pinched the mound of flesh engulfing her clit and rolled it between my fingers and she came again, her head jerking from side to side.

"Let's get those panties off." This time she lifted one foot at a time and slipped her cotton panties over them. "Better," I said.

She leaned back in the seat with her legs spread and I touched her pussy in various ways until she was exhausted from cumming. We had a thing where she'd say, "Okay, stop," and I wouldn't stop, and then she would say, "Okay, one more." I usually stopped after that next one, but not always.

She started to reach for my belt buckle but I stopped her. "Not today," I said. "No candy for you, little girl." I drove her back to her car and she went home, while I went back to my office...

... It was several weeks later. We had met up another half-dozen times -- a blow job in a grocery-store parking lot, a dozen orgasms playing with her in a bamboo grove in a park and another dozen in the car parked alongside a dentist's office, plus three or four sweaty, athletic fuck-sessions where we did everything we wanted, flowing energetically from one focus to another. We were having lunch in a sandwich place we liked. The place was run by a family from Venezuela, and an interesting feature was that the bathrooms were downstairs from the dining room, down a long spiral staircase with cast-iron handrails. Drea had had more orgasms in those bathrooms than you could count, and had swallowed more loads of jizz than I could possibly remember. I'm sure the family who owned the place knew what we were doing, but they were friendly and always glad to see us.

We were finishing lunch, sipping coffee, when we heard a female voice squeal, "Drea!" Our heads swiveled to see a tall, athletic-looking woman with her hair cut short, wearing old, poorly-fitting blue jeans and a white t-shirt with some tech company's logo on it. The notable thing, at least from my point of view, was the rhythmic swaying of heavy female flesh under that t-shirt, swinging left and right as she ran our way. Clearly what we had here was a big, braless dyke with huge tits and extroverted expressions of fondness for my girlfriend. She was unceremoniously bolting across the room toward us, raising a racket as she ran between the tables.

Drea half-stood, hoping in a panic to prevent a scene but she failed. This woman ran over and wrapped her arms around her, cooing, "Oh honey, I've missed you," and leaning her head down to give Drea a big kiss on the lips. Drea put her arms around the woman in an affectionate way and they small-talked for a few minutes, their faces inches apart. The lesbian, whose name I learned was Missy, ironically enough, ended the conversation by asking, "What are you doing tomorrow? Why don't you come on by, maybe two or three." Drea said, "I'll check my calendar and let you know."

The room grew deathly quiet as Drea sank back down into her chair. She stared into her coffee cup. I stared at her.

"So," I said. "Been licking a little pussy, have you?"

"What? Are you kidding me? What an asshole," she said.

"You have never mentioned Missy to me."

"What's to mention? She's a friend of mine, I've know her for a long time."

"Uh huh, I see."

"You are an asshole," she repeated. "It's nothing. I am not a lesbian."

"I don't care if you enjoy something different now and then," I said. "But you should have told me."

"There's nothing to tell," she said.

"Let's go to your sister's house," I suggested.

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why? We always go there, and you don't ask why."

She glared at me. "I don't trust you," she said. "I think you're going to try to spank me."

I smiled at her. "It's true, you deserve a spanking," I said.

"See?"

"You'll feel better when it's over."

"No way," she said. I had a hard-on.

"Sure," I said. "It'll be a little something special for me to enjoy. You shouldn't be the one having all the fun."

"I'm not having any fun," she said.

"Maybe not at this moment, but you have been."

She was smart enough to shut up at this point.

After several minutes of heavy silence she said, "We can go to my sister's house, but you're not spanking me."

"Let's go," I said.

I drove her back to her car and followed her. I parked on the block behind the house, which connects by an alley to the back yard. It's almost as close as her own driveway, but discreet. Drea used her key to go in the front door and let me in through the back.

Opening the kitchen door she met me with a big sloppy kiss, and offered me some coffee from the half-full, half-warm pot. This is our routine, our gear-shifting, we sit and talk for a few minutes before we go back to the bedroom. We sat in the kitchen chairs. She was trembling.

"Well," I said, "It's time."

"Time to have some fun," she said. "In bed."

"That's not what I meant." I took a sip of coffee, savoring these long uncomfortable seconds. I scooted my chair back to make room. "Come here. Lay over my knees."

"You're insane if you think I'm going to do that," she said.

"I am, actually, not insane," I said. "Come on."

"No."

"Okay, then, tell me about Henry."

"Who's Henry," she asked, overplaying her hand.

"You know who Henry is. How long have you been seeing him?"

"I haven't been seeing him."

"How long have you known him?"

"A couple months, I guess."

"How did you meet?"

"I don't know, we work together, that's all. He's in the Outreach office. I'm in Projects. They're right next door to each other."

"Seems like a nice guy," I said.

"No, he's not," Drea shot back. "He's a big flirt and a creep."

"I see," I said. "So he's always hitting on you?"

"Yeah, he is a pest. Don't worry, I can handle him."

"What do you do when he hits on you?"

Drea glanced at me, assessing the situation. "I work with the guy, I try to be nice to him. Up to a point."

"Do you go places with him?"

"No," she said. "I mean, we've gone for coffee a couple of times, that's all."

"Tell me the rest," I said.

"No."

"Okay, no problem, then come here and lie across my knees."

"No." There was true fear in her eyes.

"Then tell me."

She stared at me. "Okay," she said. "And then no spanking."

I did not respond, but only waited.

"One time," she said, "We went to lunch and he was sitting next to me in a booth and he was being kind of handsy, you know?"

I waited as she contemplated how much to say.

"He started telling me how pretty I am, and saying nice things." She paused. "Then, he sort of surprised me by saying he wanted to make love to me. I remember it seemed like a weird way to put it, 'make love,' like we were in a fucking Cary Grant movie or something."

"I see," I said. "So you took him to your sister's house?"

"No, he rented a room."

"And then what?"

"What do you mean, and then what? What do you think?"

"He made love to you."

"Are you kidding? Okay, shut up Drea, no it's too late, you can't stop now," she said, partly to herself and partly for my benefit. "Okay, listen, I had heard about this guy from one of the other girls at work. She had been with him and didn't like it because he was too big and she was sore afterward."

"I see. That got your interest, huh?"