THE MYSTERY OF THE BATON ROUGE

The name's Jack Wayne. I'm a private detective. It all began on a
sweltering Friday in June. I was sitting behind my desk thumbing
through a paperback of "9 & 1/2 Weeks" and sipping a glass of
bourbon when my secretary stuck her head into the office.

"Hey, Jack." she said in an annoying tone. "Jack, put the book
down for a minute!"

"What is it with you?" I growled. "You always butt in right when
I'm getting to the best page, Betty!"

"Excuse me for interrupting your reading hour!" she replied,
tossing a handful of her long jet-black hair over her shoulder.
"But I thought you'd like to know that there's a lady out here
to see you."

I sat up and quickly tossed back the whiskey.

"Send her in." I said as I shoved the glass, the bottle and the
book into the desk drawer. A moment later an elegantly-dressed
woman walked into my office. Her light brown hair, which was
pulled back into a bun, was highlighted by streaks of silver.
This wasn't the kind of clientele I was used to. She was classy,
like a linen napkin or a glass of single-malt scotch. She was
smooth and relaxed as she introduced herself.

"Olivia T. Kendrich." she said, offering me a gloved hand.
I didn't know whether I should shake her hand or kiss it.
I reached out and gave it a polite squeeze. She smiled and
squeezed back. "You come highly recommended, Mr. Wayne.
An acquaintance of mine, Miss Stephanie O'Hara, said that you
were quite effective. Do you remember her by any chance?"

Stephanie O'Hara was a cute little red-haired debutante from the
right side of the tracks who'd hired me to tail her fiancee'.
She suspected him of two-timing her. I shadowed the guy for a month
and it was clear he wasn't up to any hanky-panky. When I went to
her father's house to tell her so, she accused me of covering for
him and demanded her retainer fee back. When I told her no dice,
she started getting physical. She kicked my shin a real good one,
then started slapping my face. I tried to stay cool, but she'd
smacked me until I didn't have a cheek left to turn. So, I grabbed
her by the arm, threw my foot onto the nearest chair and tossed her
over my leg. She twisted like a demon. Apparently, she'd figured
out what was coming next. It was all I could do just to hold her
in place. Then I started slapping her fanny like it was going out
of style. She had a thick wool skirt on, but I didn't let that
stop me. I just laid it on all the harder. The way she kicked and
screamed, you'd of thought I was killing her. It's too bad her
rich daddy never gave her that kind of attention, but I figured
it's never too late to learn. When I was done spanking the brat,
I pushed her onto the floor and walked out. I remember looking back
as I was heading out the door. She was lying there, in tears,
rubbing her ass and demanding at the top of her lungs that I come
back, but I just kept moving.

"She mentioned what a worthy adversary were."

Ms. Kendrich continued.

"Oh, is that what she said?"

"Yes, she did. I'm to understand that you two had a little
run-in."

"Well, there was a bit of a scuffle. Is she still sore
about that?"

"She was... for quite a while."

"It wasn't that big a deal. She ought to put it behind her."

"She hardly had a choice." Olivia smirked.

"Yes." I agreed. "But certainly you didn't come here to talk
about Miss O'Hara."

"No. What I want to talk to you about is this." She took a dark
pink envelope from her purse and slid it across the desk. I picked
it up and opened it. Inside was a type-written note which read:

"Go down a red road and find a three. Then add a three. Now do
it again. When you hear the bell, turn to your left and you'll
see me just above the earth. Take me in hand and turn me over.
You'll know what to do next."

"It came in the mail, yesterday." Olivia told me. "I have no
idea what it means."

I examined the envelope carefully. There was no return address and
no postmark.

"This was delivered by hand." I stated.

"Some of the best things are." she replied. I turned the note
over in my hand and tried to think of what the words could
possibly mean.

"It's a riddle all right." I muttered to myself.

Olivia took a checkbook and a pen from her purse.

"How much is your retainer?"

She seemed ready to write down any number I chose. I reached across
the desk and put my hand over hers, closing the checkbook.

"I couldn't take a dime from you Ms. Kendrich- not for something
like this." I said, softly. I left my hand on top of hers as long
as I dared then slowly pulled away. "Like I said, it's some kind
of riddle, so it's got to be some kind of joke- probably not worth
looking into." She nodded in agreement, but I could see a lot of
disappointment in those lovely, blue-green eyes. You could have
written Tootsie-Pop right on my forehead- I was such a sucker.
"But I'll tell you what- I'll work on this for a day or two and,
if I come up with anything, I'll let you know."

She smiled sweetly as she put her things back in her purse and
stood to leave.

"That sounds fine." She handed me a card with her phone number
and address. "Come over for dinner when you have it figured out.
I want to hear all about it. How does poached salmon, steamed
turnips and raspberry sorbet sound to you?" Once again she offered
her hand. This time I leaned down and pressed my lips to the silk
knuckles of her glove.

"I can almost taste it." I said.

She blushed warmly as she walked to the door.

"Good luck, Mr. Wayne. Now please remember, I'm expecting a
blow-by-blow account."

With that, she was gone. I walked over to the window and watched
as she got into her white Mercedes and drove away. Her perfume
drifted faintly in the air like a ghost. An old song began to
play in my head.

"What was that all about?!" Betty's voice cut through the music
like a chain-saw. I slapped my hands together and pointed at her.

"Go make me a big pot of coffee, honeybuns! I've got a mystery to
solve and it may take all night."

"Good!" she said, picking my paperback up off the desk as though
it were a soiled diaper. "I guess that means I can throw this
piece of trash away?"

"When did you become a literary critic? Do you even read books?"

"I'll have you know that I'm just starting a book! It's all
about sl**ping Beauty and how she gets-"

"I don't have time to hear about your fairytale stories!
I've got to get to the bottom of this Kendrich case."

"I bet that's not all you're trying to get to the bottom of."

"One of these days, Betty!" I waved a threatening hand at her.

"Promises, promises!" she pouted, tossing her hair as she left
the room.

I spent the rest of the night kicking that riddle around my office.
The road and the numbers- those were the keys. Then, at about
midnight, it hit me. The red road was a street and the numbers were
an address! When I took a three and added another and did it again,
I came up with 369. I checked a city street map for something with
red in it and found Scarlet Lane. I dialed information and found
that 369 Scarlet Lane was the address of Grayson's Pawn Shop.
I caught a little shut-eye on my office couch and headed over
there the next morning.

Grayson's was a run down little joint, but it possessed a kind of
dusty charm. As I'd expected, a bell rang as I came through the
front door. I turned to my left. There were several shelves of
used junk lining the walls, but only one thing caught my eye-
a huge globe circa 1955 sitting right at eye level and above that
was a wooden paddle hanging by a leather strap. It was about a
foot and a half long and maybe four inches wide. I heard a woman's
voice behind me say.

"Checking out the old board of education, eh?" she asked in a
friendly manner. "Hi, my name's Lucy Grayson."

She was a nice looking lady. I'd say medium in most respects,
average in height and weight. Her auburn hair was shoulder length.
Maybe she was a bit plump and her voice was a little rough,
but she had a nice smile and that goes a long way with me.

"Nice to meet you, Lucy. I'm Jack Wayne."

"So, what's your interest in the fanny-whacker? Is the little
woman getting out of line?"

We both laughed.

"It looks like a classic piece of workmanship."

"Yeah, it's a real tear jerker. I bet that one kept a few ladies
on their toes!" she replied with a wink.

"Really? Do think that's an adult toy?"

"Yep!" Lucy said as she reached up and brought the paddle down.
"See these little hearts carved into the corners? This was a
romantic gift between two grown-ups, not something a school
principal would use. My folks had something like this. I found it
under their bed once when I was a k**. You never know what people
get up to behind closed doors."

It was heavier than I'd expected- smoother too. I ran my hand
along it's flat surface and let it fall into my palm a few times.
I flipped it over to find some writing etched into the wood.

"It's time to get personal with June. Maybe some time in the
corner is needed. Want some candy? Just remember that the hand
moves faster than the eye. Now, get cracking!"

That afternoon found me back in my office, mulling over those
cryptic words. Was June a woman's name? What did time in the
corner refer to? The rest of it made even less sense.

Betty brought me some coffee and a few doughnuts. She noticed
the words from the paddle which I had scrawled onto some paper
in front of me.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Damned if I know!" I said and took a bite from the old-fashioned
with strawberry icing.

"Is this part of that Kendrich case?"

"Yeah, and I've got to say, it's beginning to get the best
of me!"

"Well, don't get slap-happy over it, especially if she's not
paying you!"

"Wait. How do you know I'm doing this for free?"

Betty started to get a little flustered.

"I- uh... Well, I mean-"

"Have you been listening at the door again?" I said as I got up
and walked toward her. Betty was forever listening in on my private
conversations and I'd finally had enough of it. She backed out of
the room and tried to make for the front door, but I cornered her.

"Now hold on, Jack. You've got it all wrong!"

I picked up a newspaper from her desk and started to fold
it lengthwise.

"Betty, your bottom has a date with the classified section!"
Her hands instinctively covered her backside as she attempted to
out-maneuver me. She faked towards the door and then made a break
for my office. I lunged forward and grabbed hold of her wrist
before she could slam my own door on me. Then it was just a matter
of dragging her over to the couch and pinning her over my lap.
Betty made a lot of noise, but didn't put up much of a fight.
In fact, for a second there, I could swear I caught her starting
to giggle.

"She won't be laughing long!" I thought as I lifted the paper.
And that's when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. It was right
there on the paper. Just below "Help Wanted" and "For Sale"
was the word, "Personals".

"This is it! The personal ads!"

"The what?" Betty gasped.

"The clue on the paddle said to `get personal'. That's where
I'll find the answer." I sat Betty up and got off the couch.
She tried to regain her composure, not to mention her breath
as I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door.

"Where are you going?!" she said, almost sounding disappointed.

"To a dirty book shop, sweetcheeks. I'll just have to toast your
buns some other time."

I was outside and getting into my car when Betty stuck her head
out the office window.

"You're a real jerk, you know that?!" she shouted. Then she
addressed her comments to the entire block. "Jack Wayne is a
big jerk and he doesn't know how to finish what he's started!"

"What are you mad at me for?! I didn't lay a hand on you!"
I shouted back. That just seemed to tick her off even more.

"Oh! You make me furious!" she screamed and slammed the
window closed.

"Women!" I thought to myself as I hopped into the driver's seat.
"Will I ever figure them out?"

Pinky's Adult Books was a neon covered joint in the red light
district. They had every girlie mag and erotic novelty item anyone
could ever want. Never mind how I knew about it. I walked in and
headed right for the spanking literature. A minute of browsing
and there it was- the June issue of "Corner Time Magazine",
a publication dedicated to the fun side of corporal punishment.
I flipped through the pages and stopped at the personal ads.
There were several of them, so I decided to buy the issue to study
back at the office. When I got there, Betty was gone. There was a
note on her desk. As I picked it up, I could see that the ink had
been smudged by her tears.

"Dear Jack, I really thought we had something special, but I
stand corrected. You've always had the upper hand in our
relationship, why couldn't you take advantage of it? The bottom
line is, I'm leaving. It's not like me to turn tail and run away,
but what else can I do? Good-bye. Love, Betty Storm"

Strictly speaking, I don't go in for office romances, but I have
to admit that Betty always did have a special place in my heart.
I stood there for a while, staring out the window with her letter
in my hand. I thought about calling, but I'd never thought to ask
for her home number. She was right, I was a jerk. But there wasn't
much I could do about it, so I decided to get back to the business
at hand.

I scanned through Corner Time magazine checking ad after ad as
the night wore on. There must have been a thousand naughty ladies
looking for some firm-handed guy to adjust their attitude,
but nothing caught my attention. It wasn't until I'd reached
the next to the last page that I finally struck pay-dirt.
It was an ad next to a picture of a gorgeous blonde that read:

"I've been a bad, bad girl and need some serious behavior
modification from a man who's hand moves faster than his eye.
So get cracking and call Candy Maxwell!"

Beneath the ad was a phone number for an answering service.
I called it and left my office number. Five minutes later,
my phone rang.

"Jack Wayne's office."

"Mr. Wayne?" a soft feminine voice asked.

"Yes it is."

"Hi, I'm Candy. I'm so glad you called. I was on the edge of
my seat waiting!"

"Do we know each other, Ms. Maxwell?"

"No, but we have a mutual acquaintance."

"And who would that be, Candy?"

"I'm not comfortable talking about it over the phone. You should
come over to my place so we can meet in private."

"Is this for real?"

"Why don't you head on over here and find out for yourself?"

Within a half-hour, I was pulling up to Candy Maxwell's house.
It was a big Victorian place with an iron gate up front.
I walked up to it and pushed the buzzer on the intercom.

"Hello?" Candy's voice crooned through the speaker.

"It's me, Jack."

"Great! Come around to the backside of the house. I'm having
a swim."

"Sure."

The large gate slowly swung open and I walked across the driveway
past a pink BMW with red leather interior. It looked to be brand
spanking new. As I came around the side of the house, I noticed
a small structure in the backyard, it was a woodshed from the
old days when people used such things to stay warm. I could hear
splashing as I rounded the corner and when the pool came into view,
I was overcome by a vision. There, swimming naked before me, was
the most beautiful woman I've ever almost dropped dead from seeing.
She stopped swimming for a moment and waved to me.

"Care to cool off?" she asked.

Sliding naked down a glacier wouldn't have cooled me off.

"No thanks." I said, trying to keep my eyes in their sockets.
She paddled around in the water as though it was nothing to swim
nude in front of a stranger.

"I'll be right out." she said, heading for the stairs at the
shallow end. I needed a distraction to keep from losing my cool.
I fumbled around in my pockets for some cigarettes or a lighter
before remembering that I don't smoke. Then, like Venus rising
from the sea, Candy stepped out of the pool and stood before me
shaking the water from her long, golden hair.

I was harder than Chinese arithmetic.

"You're quite striking." I commented.

"I hear the same about you." She walked over and took me by
the lapels. "Isn't it a little hot for this?" Our lips almost
met as she slid my jacket over my shoulders, down my arms and
casually tossed it onto a nearby deck chair. She placed her hands
on my chest and gave me a little shove. I fell back onto a
chaise lounge. Just as I sat up, she climbed over my lap and
arched her bottom at an angle that would tempt anyone to slap it.
I couldn't help but notice how pink her cheeks were- the shade
of bubble gum.

"You have an incredible back porch." I said.

"It could use a man's touch, though. Care to take a whack at it?
Or maybe several?

"Looks like someone's already done that today."

"Yes. I got a little cheeky with a friend of mine, so he bent me
over and showed me the error of my ways. But that was hours ago."

"Does it still sting?" I asked, giving one of her cheeks
a squeeze.

"Marvelously!" she moaned. I let my hand roam across her perfect
pink ass. Candy rolled her shoulders in anticipation. I lifted
my hand and was poised to give this minx a spanking she'd
never forget. Unfortunately, the moment was shattered by the
sound of an angry voice.

"What the hell's going on out here?!" it said.

I turned to see a large powerful looking man in a business suit
approaching us.

"Who are you?!" he demanded.

"Jack Wayne. I'm a private detective." I stood, pulling Candy
to her feet as I did.

"Well, I'm Melvyn Maxwell and the woman you had bent over your
knee is my wife!"

"Melvyn, you're making a scene!" Candy said.

"Me?!" The man grabbed Candy by the arm and took her to his side.
"Where are your clothes?"

I handed her my jacket which she wrapped around her shoulders.

"Thank you. I'm glad to see there are still some gentlemen left in
this town!" She sneered at Melvyn who paid no attention to the dig.

"Get in the house and put something on!"

As Candy went off to the house in a huff, Maxwell and I stood
there for a few awkward moments.

"I suppose you answered one of those ads." he asked in a
semi-polite manner.

"Yes, but it wasn't as simple as that. You see, I'm working on
a case-"

"Oh, so it's part of your job to spank beautiful naked women?"

"If only that were the deal!" I chuckled.

"Look pal, I don't blame you for wanting to spank my wife. I do
it two or three times a day myself! But her ass isn't public
property, okay?!"

Candy came back out of the house with my jacket over one arm.
She was wearing a white blouse, a plaid skirt, ankle socks and
black patent leather shoes. The ensemble was fetching, but it
sort of looked like a school girl's uniform.

"Here, Jack." she said, handing me my jacket. "I'm sorry
things didn't work out. Mel can be a real wet blanket!"

"That's enough out of you, Miss!" Melvyn replied. "Now, go
march yourself into that woodshed and wait for me!"

"But I don't want another trip to the woodshed!" she cried.

"I'm going to count to three!"

That's all Melvyn had to say. Before he could even start counting,
the beautiful young woman walked away with arms angrily folded
and her lower lip sticking out.

"I'm sorry about all this, Mr. Wayne. It looks like you've been
set up."

I put my jacket back on and we both walked toward the front of
the house. I went straight for the driveway and he veered off
toward the woodshed.

"Don't be too harsh with Candy." I said.

"You k**ding?" Maxwell laughed. "She's in there eating this up
with a big spoon! Let me tell you, if I didn't keep her fanny as
hot as a pepper at least eight hours a day, she'd drop me like
a bad habit! Good luck, Mr. Wayne."

"Thanks."

On the way out I could here the fireworks show starting up in
that old shed. The sounds of Melvyn's hand making solid contact
and Candy's squealing followed me all the way to my car.

By the time I was nearing my office, the sun was touching the
horizon and the distant hills were bathed in a rosy glow.
I reached for my sunglasses but found something else in the
breast pocket of my jacket. It was a hotel room key with the
number 303 on it. Candy must have slipped it in there when she
was changing. It wasn't from some cheap, flea-bag inn, either.
This key was the property of the Baton Rouge- the ritziest
hotel in town. I drove to the Baton Rouge's parking lot and sat
there in my car for a while, wondering if I should go up or not.
The whole thing smacked of conspiracy. Finally, I resolved to see
this thing through to the end. I took an elevator that was only
slightly smaller than my apartment to room 303. I slid the key
in and opened the door to find four women on the other side.
Olivia Kendrich, Stephanie O'Hara Lucy Grayson and Candy Maxwell
were all in silk nighties in various shades of pink and all
looked as if they were expecting me. Olivia and Lucy were playing
cards at a glass-top table. Stephanie and Candy were lounging on
an enormous red velvety couch. Candy was stroking Stephanie's
strawberry locks with a large wooden hairbrush.

"Nice of you to drop in, Mr. Wayne." Ms. Kendrich said, rising and
pouring a glass of pink champagne from a bottle chilling nearby.
Then she handed me the glass. "I suppose you're wondering why we
lured you here tonight."

"Okay, I'll bite. What's this all about?"

"Remember that afternoon in my father's study?" Stephanie asked.
"I was being such a brat that day! Do you remember how I yelled
at you and kicked you and all? A lot of guys would have folded in
a situation like that, but not you. You put me in my place.
And you did it so swiftly, so..."

"Soundly?" I interrupted.

"Yes." Stephanie agreed. She smiled and closed her eyes for a
moment as if she was remembering her first taste of chocolate.
"Ever since that experience, I've been looking for some way to
relive the moment. But first, I had to find somebody to confide in.
I needed to share my strange little story with someone."

"Why didn't you just give me a ring." I asked.

"You don't understand. As enthralled as I was by the way you took
me in hand, I was still furious. I'm a proud woman, Mr. Wayne.
Having a man spank me like a c***d was very confusing. It was
frightening, embarrassing and yet it awakened me in ways I'd
never expected."

"Yes." Lucy joined in. "When a woman realizes she really likes
to be spanked, there are lots of issues to deal with. She wants to
be punished and humiliated in her fantasy life without losing
anyone's respect in the real world. It's hard for most people
to understand that."

"Not to mention trying to explain that there's a big difference
between a playful spanking and hardcore S & M." Candy added.

"I did try to contact you. I came to your office two months ago."
Stephanie continued. I'd finally worked up the courage to tell you
about my feelings, but your secretary told me you were on a case
out of town and wouldn't be back for days. I sort of broke down
there in your waiting room. I couldn't stop crying, but your
secretary, Betty, was so nice. She brought me a box of tissues
and listened to my whole story. I told her everything."

"What? Betty knows about all of this?" I gasped.

"Oh, yes! It seemed she was very familiar with my situation.
She got right on the phone with Olivia and started arranging
this whole charade."

"Betty and I have been plotting this for weeks." Olivia said.
"You see, we've both been spanking aficionados since we went to
college together. We were in a sorority that took paddling its
pledges very seriously." Olivia's hands went to her ass cheeks as
if she could still feel the sting. "Many is the night we smeared
cold cream on each other's sore little bottoms after a brutal
session with the paddle. We looked around, but we never found a man
that could swing a paddle quite like our senior sorority s****r."

My eyes went to Lucy, who's smile seemed quite conspicuous.

"And that s****r would be you, Ms. Grayson?"

"Excellent! You see, you are a good detective. Yes, I was Betty
and Olivia's senior s****r and I took every opportunity to lay
wood to their delicate young fannies. It seemed as though Olivia
here spent most of her freshman year bent over in front of me,
dancing to the crack of my paddle. But it never gave me the
satisfaction I'd felt being on the other end of it when I was
a freshman. And it was nothing compared to the rapture of being
taken over a man's knee for a good spanking. After college, the
girls and I stayed in touch. We came to realize that we didn't
have a passing fancy for spanking, it was a life-long devotion.
So we formed a club. We call ourselves, `The Sore Subjects'.
Candy joined us about a month ago."

"I met Stephanie at a bookstore." Candy chimed in. "She saw
me browsing through 'The Art of Discipline' and we struck up
a conversation. The next thing you know, I was in the club.
You can imagine what the initiation was like! I couldn't sit
comfortably for a week!"

The women all laughed.

I was still confused.

"So, you ladies meet here once a month and spank each other?"

They all laughed again.

"Not exactly, Jack." Olivia explained. "You see, we always get
some authoritative male to be our `master of ceremonies'.
Last month it was Melvyn."

"Melvyn Maxwell? Your husband?" I asked Candy.

"He's not really my husband. His real name is Melvyn McLintock.
He's just a friend of ours who was helping us out."

"It's all part of our complicated little plot to get you here."
Olivia added.

"I understand, but how did you come to choose me?"

"Well, why don't you ask the other member of our little group?"
Olivia walked to the bedroom door and opened it. When I looked
into the next room my jaw fell down to the lobby. It was my
runaway secretary, Betty, sitting on the edge of the bed
in a French maid's outfit.

"Hi, Jack." she said, standing up. "I hope you're not angry."

"I'm just glad to see you!" I told her. "I've been worried
about you, honey. I didn't know what to do."

Betty stared at the floor, biting her lower lip.

"I know, but it was the only way I could think of to introduce you
to our little group. Still, it was thoughtless and mean of me to
let you worry like that! You know what I think?" she said, looking
right into my eyes. "I think I need to be taught a lesson."

"And I think these two need some time alone." Olivia said with a
knowing grin. "But don't wear yourself out." she added as she
left the room with the other ladies filing out behind her.
"Now remember, you've got four naughty accomplices in the next
room waiting for their just deserts."

Stephanie, the last to exit, gave Betty and me a wink as she
closed the door.

"Alone at last." Betty said, embracing me.

"What's the deal with the little maid get-up?"

"It's just one of my fantasy costumes. You don't like it?"

"No, I like it all right! I just think it would look better d****d
over a chair." I said, kissing her neck.

"And how do you think I'd look d****d over a chair?"
she whispered huskily into my ear.

"I feel like a dope." I told her. "For years I've been trying
to figure out your mysterious motives and all you wanted
me to do was smack that cute little backside of yours!
Some detective I am!"

"You're a great detective. It's just, sometimes you can't see
the forest for the trees."

She put her hands on my face, kissing me softly.

I wrapped my arms around Betty's slim frame.

"You're going over my knee, young lady!"

"It's about time!" she said as I sat down on the edge of
the bed.

A quick yank on her left arm and she was over my lap. I lifted
the back of that little black skirt to reveal the sweetest sight
these eyes have ever seen. It was no shock she wasn't wearing
panties, but I wasn't prepared for the absolute perfection of
Betty's bottom. I'd seen it swishing around the office a thousand
times under a cotton skirt or nicely packed into a pair of slacks,
but I never could have imagined how lovely those two alabaster
moons really were. My hand shook as a ran it across the smooth
rounded surface of her ass. I lifted my hand and brought it down
hard across Betty's sweet white cheeks. She jumped and gasped
a little. The next few swats were much more powerful and got an
even better response. Betty ground herself against my leg and then
lifted her bottom in anticipation of more. I started swatting
harder and faster until my hand was a blur. I slapped those round
little cheeks until they turned carnation pink and when that shade
didn't suit me, I smacked them until they were rose red.
She kicked and cried like a k** who'd lost her bike, but I just
kept on spanking. Then, when Betty's ass was so red it looked as
if it might glow in the dark, I stopped swatting and just ran my
hand across her hot, crimson flesh. She arched her back and moaned
with pleasure as I massaged her swollen buns.

"Don't ever leave me again, Betty." I sighed.

"Or else, what?" she said, looking over her shoulder with a big
grin on her tear-stained face.

Once again I lifted my hand into the air. I knew I wouldn't have
to answer that smart-ass question with words.


THE END
93% (15/1)
 
Categories: FetishMatureSex Humor
Posted by meatloaf90
4 years ago    Views: 1,030
Comments (2)
Reply for:
Reply text
Please login or register to post comments.
4 years ago
very good
4 years ago
I just started reading some of the stories hear. This is as close as it gets to grade A erotica. The few other things I've read by others... well to call it shit would be insulting to shit. You on the other hand have style and once I post my own story, perhaps we might collaborate on a story together. Any way, very well done.