This post is for Southern Sir, who I swear was reading my mind this morning as I tried to wake up and drink my tea. His post and mine compliment one another.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
The sound of the paddle whizzed through the air. The slap of paddle on flesh was followed by gasps of pain. Panting, cries and exclamations punctuated the silences between applications of the paddle.
Fingers danced across the skin. They played the body like a banjo or guitar as they flitted everywhere.
Laughter cascaded across the bed, down to the floor and up to the ceiling.
Giggles threaded through the movement of the fingers. All noise stops in an attempt to catch breath.
Whoosh, snap! Whoosh, snap! Whoosh, Snap!
The flogger hissed and swooshed in rhythm. Moans, and cries were sung in counterpoint. Pleas rang out. Panting. Gasps. Silence.
Hands caressed reddened skin. They stroked heated flesh. Touch played over swollen needy flesh.
“Please let me come! Oh! OH!”
“Please… Ppplease. Let. Me. Come.”
“Come for me now”
Sighs of utter pleasure melted across the bed.
Slapping of flesh on flesh as bodies meet. Juices squelch, mouths pant. Fingers grasp, squeeze, entangle.
Bedsprings squeak as bodies collapse.