Meet Switch, Part Four
Switch claimed he’d never spanked a girl before. At first, he tended to go a little light. I urged him that I could handle harder. “Really?” He’d ask and then I’d hear the smile in his voice, “awesome.” Somewhere between impressed and inspired, he worked up rather quickly to hitting hard, to the point that I finally pushed one of my hands down to block his.
“You know, Ivy, I’m torn whether or not to move that hand and keep going,” he said. I didn’t reply. I was going to let him explore this.
But, instead, he moved his hand back down to my cunt. “I don’t think you want me to stop. You’re soaking wet.” I blushed as he ran his fingers over my slit, “now, why are you so wet? Only dirty fucking sluts get wet from spankings like this. Look at this.” He grabbed my hair with his free hand and jerked my head up. He brought his fingers in front of my face: they were coated, shining. He moved them back down to my cunt.
I practically cried out when, after teasing over my slit for a while, he finally started rubbing my clit. My gaze became unfocused, I was reduced to a series of “oohs” and moans. He chuckled, “you’re getting even wetter. You filthy little thing.” He kept going, saying things that made me blush, that made me feel simultaneously precious and degraded.
He brought me back into the moment when he slid a few fingers into me. His hands were big, his fingers large and long and imposing. I gasped a bit and lurched forward. Still clothed, still composed – a stark contrast to myself – Switch just pushed them deeper and laughed.