Give me your belt

I warn, “You’ve heard how sexually frustrated I’ve been. I have two years of pent up aggression. Are you sure you want it?”

“That makes me want it even more. The sexual aggression is what I crave,” her soft lips kiss up my neck to my ear, and she whispers, “Take all your frustration out on me. I need it.”

Fuck. She’s asking for it. Might as well go all in.

I say, “Stand up and take off your belt.”

Her face brightens with a smile. I can’t wait to wipe it off.

She stands up. I sit up and watch her seductively take her belt off her narrow hips. I hold my hand out, and she hands it to me. I stand up on the table, towering over her. (I notice that her face is perfectly level with my crotch, and make a note for later.) I take one step down onto the bench, still standing more than a head taller than her. I comb my hand into her hair behind her head. I grip it and pull it down, tilting her head up to me.

I know I’m pulling her hair, and it has to hurt a little, but she still smiles up at me. Fuck. She’s too beautiful. Her face is too pretty. I want to lay down with her in a grassy field and make sweet love to her. Sweet intimate love. Climaxing gently in each other’s arms.

But she doesn’t want that.

I shake my head. I have to treat how she wants to be treated.

“Open your mouth.”

She obeys and parts her lips. Her tongue sticks out a little over her lower lip. Oh what a perfect mouth to fuck.

I spit directly into her mouth. She immediately closes her mouth, visibly swallows and opens her mouth again. Her blue eyes look up at me even more eagerly. Oh fuck. I have my night cut out for me.

Even though I just spit in her mouth, I still want to be sweet to her. She seems so delicate and fragile. Something needs to change for me to stop wanting to coddle her.

I grip her chin in my hand, and turn her face to both sides. I ask, “Did you wear makeup to sit around a campfire?”

She answers with my hand still gripped on her jaw, “Yes. I wanted to look pretty for you.”

“I want to see your face without makeup. Go to the pond, and wash yourself off.”

I saw the pond earlier today. It was completely covered in green scum. Nobody was brave enough to even get in the canoe.

Rachel doesn’t hesitate. She pulls away from my gripping hand, marches down to the pond, kneels in the muddy bank and bends over. Splashing water echoes through the trees. The water flies in arcs up unto the bank as she violently washes her face. I sit down on the bench, and watch, amazed that this woman I considered a prude was covering her face in scummy water.

Finally she gets up and walks back to me. Her wet shirt clings to the tremendous curves of her tits. She gets down on her knees before me, so she looks up at me. Her hair is dark and slicked straight back tucked neatly behind her ears with only a little scum hanging to it. It takes me a second to recognize Rachel’s face without the makeup. Her blue eyes don’t pop as much without the eyeliner, but are still filled with sexual desire. And her cheeks and forehead are covered in freckles. She really is a ginger.

Looking up, she asks, “Do I look better?”

She closes her eyes quickly as I spit on her face again. My saliva lays on her cheek, and I rub it with my thumb. I say, “You missed some shit right here.”

I stop rubbing, and say, “Sorry that just some freckles.”

I feel like an ass saying it. Obviously she’s insecure about her freckles if she’s always covering them with makeup. But she doesn’t blink. She literally turns her other cheek to me.

I take the hint, and spit on that cheek too, and rub. “No use. I can’t clean up this dirty face.”

“Maybe your cum will clean them up,” Rachel says hopefully. Holy fuck. She has really adopted this role. I need to step into my role fully too. The more I **** her, the more she’ll enjoy it. Just think about her pleasure.

“You’ll be lucky if I piss on you,” I say.

Holy fuck! Did she just perk up at me saying that!? I swear I saw her tits jiggle a little.

Speaking of tits. She’s way too dressed.

I say, “Take off your shirt and pants. Go throw them in the pond. I’ve seen way too much of them tonight.”

Rachel rises from her knees. She seductively grabs the bottom of her shirt, and starts to lift it.

Oh I would love to watch her undress so much. But it’s not about what I want. I say, “Stop. I don’t want to watch. Go to the pond. Undress. Throw your shit far into the lake and come back to me.”

Her blue eyes never leave mine. Have they always been so piercing? She lowers her shirt. Turns her back and walks down to the pond. At the bank again, she quickly peels off her shirt and launches it out into the green pond. Her pants give her trouble though. They’re too tight. She has to sit down to wiggle them off. The jeans flap open as she tosses them into the lake. And she turns and walks back to me.

What a fucking sight.

A long lean body. Ivory pale in the moonlight. Matching black bra and panties (full coverage and support. She is a mom still.) God damn. I don’t know what to look at! Her long incredible legs? Holy shit I want them wrapped around me. Her toned abs? I want to trace my tongue on them. Her bouncing tits? Oh they’re all natural and so soft.

She struts to me, then slides her white knees onto the dirty ground. She looks up at me. Her wets hair still drips onto her freckled shoulder. A shoulder that has a thin little bra strap that I would love to remove.

Despite lacking makeup, she’s still so beautiful. Fuck. I can’t look at her face anymore. It will ruin me. I can’t hurt a woman so pretty.

I stand up abruptly, bumping my crotch into Rachel’s face. Shit. I didn’t mean to do that. Oh well. I get up and walk around her.

Rachel spins in the dirt to face me.

“Don’t face…” I start to say when I say when I notice her lower lip is bleeding where I bumped her. Damn it. I didn’t mean to do that. But I can’t show compassion.

I grab her face, and tilt it up to me. I bend down and suck her lower lip, pulling it back until it snaps back to her face. I say, “You don’t get to bleed until I fuck your little ass.”

“Sorry Chandler,” Rachel says, looking up at me.

I can’t look at that face. I’ll break.

“Stand up and put your hands on the table. Time for your punishment for bleeding.”

She quickly stands up, and turns around. She bends over and pressing her hands to the table. She even arches her back giving me a great view of her toned little ass.

The perfect position for me to step up and rail her thin body.

But she’s doesn’t want that. Not yet.

I walk up behind her, and pull down her black panties. Her small white ass is the same paleness as her legs. No tan line to speak of. But I see a big freckle on her ass. And I can’t resist.

My lips enclose on the freckle, and I suck it. My tongue swirls on it, then finally before my mouth parts my teeth bite down on it. Her body jumps a little.

I say, “Sorry for the interruption. You had a little shit on your ass.” I stand back up and I grab her belt off the table. I snap it, and it echoes across the pond. “How many lashes does your pale ass deserve for bleeding?”

“Two for bleeding without permission,” Phoebe says.

Without waiting, I quickly whip the belt across her tight ass. Two quicks cracks in the night. Even in the moonlight, I can see the pink welts arising on her flesh. Oh fuck, that had more effect than I expected.

I move to toss her belt to the side, but then Rachel speaks up, “Can you punish me for being a naughty wife?”

I look at the thick red lines on her white ass. Fuck. This may be rough, but it’s what she wants. I say, “Sure. But each confession gets a smack with the belt.”

“Perfect,” Rachel crows, wiggling her little ass in front of me. “I’ve been such an unfaithful wife. I need to atone.”

Oh fuck.