FREE SEX STORY

	HELPING HAND by Isabella Laurent Most people find moving to be extremely stressful, but I didn't give it much thought. Put stuff in cardboard boxes. Carry the boxes to a rental truck. Drive to the new place, then do the whole thing in reverse. Time-consuming? Yes. Stressful? No. At least, not until my extremely handsome, soon-to-be-ex-neighbor, Nick, offered to help, sending me into an instant quandary. "Let me give you a hand," he urged over the phone. Now I had stress. I mean, honestly, what was I supposed to do with all of my sex toys? Don't get me wrong. I'm not the queen of kink. But I do like to engage in certain non-vanilla endeavors when I've got a willing participant, such as playing with a variety of frisky toys, dressing in costume and dabbling in the erotic art of spanking. Especially, spanking. To put it plainly, I am a girl who truly desires a crimson-blushed, stinging-hot bottom. Getting a spanking makes me wet like nothing else can. I love the trembly wave of anticipation in the seconds beforehand, the nerve-tingling feeling of bending over a man's lap and the moment of truth when the hand, hairbrush or paddle finally meets my naked bottom. Simply saying the word "spanking" is enough to make my pussy spasm. Hearing an attractive lover say that word makes me practically come. In order to get the spankings that I crave, I have properly outfitted my apartment. Rubber-coated ping-pong paddles rest on the nightstand near my bed, although no ping-pong table is in sight. An abundance of spatulas and flat-backed wooden spoons reside in my kitchen, while I am rarely ever found cooking. Then there are the four--count them, four--thick-bristled, wooden-handled hairbrushes on display on the bathroom counter. Although this type of brush is no good for taming my long curly black hair, these tools are very good for punishing my naughty heart-shaped ass. But while all of those items could be easily explained away, several of the toys in my collection are slightly more difficult to hide, which was what I needed to do quickly, before Nick made his way over from across the hall. I scanned the room for anything that might incriminate me, and right away my eyes fell upon my riding crop. How on earth do you pack a crop? With no time to spare, I did the best I could. Moving in record speed, I tossed the paddles, spoons and brushes in one box labeled "bedroom" and quickly flipped down the corners of the lid. For the crop, I found an empty poster tube and slid it deep inside. That taken care of, I checked out my appearance in the mirror and waited for my neighbor. No more worries, for now--at least that's what I thought. Moments later, Nick knocked on the door, looking as amazing as always. Over the years, we had shared erotically curious glances, but due to other romantic attachments, we had never acted on the obvious chemistry between us. "I hate that you're moving," he said, looking at me with deep amber-hued eyes. "But at least I can help, right?" He brushed his sandy blond hair off his forehead with one hand, and I suddenly noticed how large and capable-looking that hand was. Hiding my crop had awakened that spanking need within me. Sighing, I did the best that I could to ignore my sexual yearnings, pointing out to Nick what needed to be done. It turned out that Nick was an ace packer. He helped seal boxes and put them in "the staging area," right next to the front door where they'd be ready and easy to get once I rented the truck. But when he reached for the poster tube, the cardboard cylinder tipped and off came the top, its content spilling forth. Now, in plain view, was my luscious black crop with the bone handle and the fancy braided tip. At this point, we'd been moving boxes around for hours. Nick's shirt was off, his hard muscled body gleaming with sweat. Yet suddenly, there was a curious chill in the air, and a powerful shiver ran through my entire body as he carefully fingered one of my most treasured possessions. "You don't ride, do you?: he asked. "That's relative," I told him, putting on my best bratty expression, full lower lip plumped forward, blue eyes wide and defiant. "I don't ride horses." "That's not what I asked," he said, coming forward and tracing the tip of the crop under my chin. I liked the way he was gazing at me and the calm, calculated way he was playing with my toy. He ran the braided edge along my flat belly and down to the button-fly crotch of my white cut-off jeans. "What about you?" I asked, trying to be nonchalant. "Do you ride?" "Oh, I'm an expert," he said, continuing to trace the tip of the crop along the fronts of my thighs and down my bare legs. I shivered again, feeling the wetness start, the intense, pre-climax juice making my pussy ready and creamy. I was amazingly turned on, and we hadn't even done anything yet. Nick paused in his actions to look in one of the boxes behind him. I'd thought I'd been so clever, tucking the hairbrushes and paddles away. But Nick's knowing eyes found me out. "Bad girl," he said, "You mislabeled the box 'bedroom' when it should have said 'sex toys.'" Slowly, he removed my special items one by one, pulling out the hard-backed brushes, the ping-pong paddles and the spatulas. My pussy clenched tightly as he took hold of a spatula and gave a practice smack in the air, hitting nothing at all, but making me tremble inside. I wanted to feel that spoon against my naked bottom, and I could easily envision it. I pictured Nick putting me over his lap, lowering my white tattered shorts and giving a few heated blows to my panty-clad ass before letting me taste it on my bare skin. I knew that he would be deliciously strict, not letting me come until he was ready, by which time I'd be simmering in my own heady juices. "I heard you," he said next. "I mean, I've heard you, in the past." I waited for him to continue with his explanation, but I knew instantly what he meant. I'm not quiet when on the receiving end of a paddling. I can't help myself. At first, the cries are from the shock of it and the pain as it rushes through my reddening ass, and then--as the heat works its way into a different region--from the intense, almost unbearable pleasure. "You're quite the screamer," he said, adding, "but I never guessed it was because you were getting your little ass spanked. Such a naughty girl--who would have ever thought?" I let out a little involuntary moan as he spoke. As I said, I've always liked to hear a good-looking man say "spanking." That was like instant foreplay for me. Nick seemed to understand this instinctively. "But it's been a while since I last heard you yelling, hasn't it? It has to be a month at least. Your sweet, little ass hasn't gotten the attention it deserves, has it?" He was right. Since I had broken up with my steady boyfriend, I hadn't received any spankings at all. Now, as Nick spoke, I actually started to feel sorry for myself. Poor little Isabella. Not getting enough paddling on her haughty rear end. "Has it been too long?" Nick asked, and as he spoke, he came forward and reached out for my wrist. "Have you been needing a spanking? Oh, poor baby. Just tell me what's on your naughty little mind." "Yes, Nick," I murmured, my legs actually going weak. "I've had such dirty thoughts about you lately. You wouldn't believe them." I didn't think I could stand up much longer, but luckily I didn't have to. Nick sat down on the one remaining chair in my living room and gave me a long, serious look, then reached out and pulled me onto his lap. I could feel his crystal-clear brown eyes on me from above, staring at my butt in those ripped-up shorts before he reached under my waist and popped open the fly. As if he'd been administering spankings for years, he expertly slid my shorts down my long, tanned legs, and then he sucked in his breath at what waited for him underneath. That afternoon, I was wearing a lemon-yellow lace thong that neatly separated my ass into two distinct regions. Nick slid his fingers gently under the waistband of my panties and tugged up, so that I could feel the fabric pressing hard against my pussy and between my bottom cheeks. The lace pulled against my asshole, opening me up like a lush blossom. I sucked in my breath at the feeling of being so intimately exposed. That's when he started to spank me. Although I was ready and willing for him to use any one of my toys, he began by using his hand. In rapid succession, he brought it down hard on my left cheek and then my right. I knew that he was leaving prints on my pale skin, pretty raspberry-colored handprints that I could admire later in the bathroom mirror. "Such a bad girl," Nick said as he tugged again on the thong, and my pussy spasmed as the ribbon of fabric pressed even tighter against it. I was getting off on the way he was rubbing the undergarment against me, and combined with the heat in my ass, it was one of the most painfully pleasurable experiences I'd ever felt. Then he started to slide the yellow fabric aside. Without having to be told, I lifted my hips to help him as he slid my thong down my thighs, leaving it to rest at the top of my shorts. Now there was no barrier at all, nothing to hide my primed and heated ass and my dripping-wet pussy. I wondered whether my dreamy neighbor could smell the scent of my arousal, or whether his fingertips would discover the way my nectar had spread from my pussy lips to the tops of my inner thighs. Then I ceased thinking about anything except my smarting behind as Nick began spanking me again. At this stage, he was less careful about distributing the smacks evenly. His hand worked quickly, covering the whole of my ass and then, almost as if by accident, catching me between my thighs. I groaned at the sensation as his fingertips, four together, met my pussy with a body-tingling spank. The sound of his hand against that wet skin was like applause given underwater. I was drenched, and Nick sighed at the discovery. "So wet," he murmured, now using one hand to part my asscheeks so he could really get in there good with his free hand. He played a light little game of pat-a-cake on my cunt, not spanking very hard. It was a series of little love taps right against my shaved lips, his middle finger catching on my clit each time he connected. That instant charge of pleasure was so great that I rocked my hips against his thighs, lifting my ass higher in the air each time to let him know how good it felt. I was ready for him to fuck me, and I hoped he'd realize that soon. Nick, however, had other plans. "I'm going to spank you until you come," he said, and I moaned again. "With my fingers against your pussy," he promised, keeping up that steady rhythm. I couldn't believe how easily he'd read me. He was giving me exactly what I wanted. "Then, I'm going to fuck you." As he spoke, he continued the fingerplay over my cunt, that light spanking creating the most divine sense of warmth and pleasure. I was coming almost before I knew it, grinding my cunt against his fingers to beg him with my body to keep going, to spank me all the way through my climax. Nick understood exactly and used his fingers in that firm, unrelenting manner as my juices coated his lap and hand and spread from my pussy to my thighs. Without stopping for a breather, Nick slid his hand up and placed his fingers directly against my asshole. His fingertips grazed the edges and then pushed inside, and I flinched at the intrusion. My mind tried to process what was happening, but the experiences were changing too quickly. First, he was spanking me, and then his fingers were up inside me, using the wetness that had seeped back from my pussy as lubrication. He thrust into my rear hole and then slid back out again. "Oh, yes," I sighed. "Oh, yes, Nick!" "That's what you like, isn't it?" he asked softly. "A spanking, a little finger-fucking. And then . . . " He let the sentence hang in the air as he shifted our position. Lifting me by the hips, he bent me over the arm of the chair, moving so that he was standing behind me. Reaching into my toy-filled box, he pulled out one of the ping-pong paddles. "I think you should get spanked while you're being fucked," he said, and I moaned loudly in assent. "What do you think, Isabella?" Yes, I agreed, but I didn't say the word. I didnšt think I needed to. My face was flushed, my long hair hanging over my cheeks and my eyes tightly closed as I waited to feel both his cock and the paddle. Nick was having none of it. "I said," he repeated slowly, "what do you think?" "Yes, Nick," I murmured as I arched my hips, raising my ass up even higher toward him so that he could tell my body was answering him as well. Truly, I would have said anything, as long as it meant he would continue with his plans to fuck me and spank me and make me come again. Then suddenly, he was inside me, his cock going in deep as the paddle connected with my tender cheek. My skin tingled at the instant spark of pain, which combined with the pleasure of his cock working in my pussy was my favorite sensation. As he fucked me hard and fast, the paddle connected with my ass again and again, stirring me deep inside. As he worked, I remembered what Nick had said earlier as he'd played with my crop--that he was an expert rider. This statement was totally true. He knew when to speed up, when to slow down, when to canter and when to trot, all while he played the paddle over my ass with the performance of a pro. Lightly skimming my skin with one blow, he would make it seriously sting with the next. Nick then dropped the paddle in favor of his hand. "I want to feel your heat with my palm," he said. "It's such a pretty color, too." From experience, I knew perfectly well what my ass must have looked like. I've checked it out during a spanking plenty of times, and I know the colors well. The gradation from pale pink to deep cherry. The heated hues that indicate that I am well on my way to an earth-shaking moment of bliss. Nick understood that that's where he was taking me. His hand continued to tease me, every once in a while simply caressing my reddening asscheeks before returning to spank me again. Soon the smacks on my ass grew steadier. He was spanking me with such a rhythmic pace that I felt he had met and matched my heartbeat. Then I reached an almost hypnotic state as Nick stopped and gripped my hips, pressing his cock deep within me. He came hard, letting out a low, harsh sigh as the force of the orgasm flooded through him. I could feel his body shake as he let loose, and then I was climaxing as well, reaching that all-time spanking high. My sweetly vibrating cunt pressed firmly into the arm of the chair, giving my sensitive clit a divine connection. My throbbing ass was content, taken care of by Nick's hand and expertise with the paddle. That spanking itch, that urgent need, was scratched, at least for the moment. And by the end of the afternoon, there was no doubt about it. I was still moving, but my toys weren't moving very far. They were simply going across the hall--into Nick's apartment. - JOIN NOW FOR MORE STORIES LIKE THIS! -

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