Yelps and silence*

Mark released his pants, casting them to the floor, and walked forward unburdened. Before him rose a wonder in curves and cheap nylon. Stacy arched her back up to him, hoiking her skirt up teasingly. He ran a hand up her half-bent thigh to land casually on an asscheek. She would always offer more. That was the real rule 6. The other side of that coin. The boy was beginning to realise what it meant. A lack of no, left the girl with an overabundance of yes to hand out. She would always offer more… and he was powerless to resist that. His calloused fingertips seemed to scratch and scrape against the smoothness of her form. She was too perfect… Too perfect for his roughness. His petty jealousies and childish tantrums. Yet still she seemed to invite them on, to encourage him to delve further into his own pathetic depths. She would always offer more… whether he deserved it or not.

Mark looked down upon the only girl who could draw such wide berths of emotion from him. Admired the twists and bends of her. The smooth flow of her unveiled back up to a half-cut halter top. The way the light shone off of the round swell of her buttocks. The slight cameltoe where her thighs split open just for him. He was angry with her. Annoyed with Pete. Furious with himself. Yet, at the same time he loved all three. Here she was: laid out before him like a fresh cut of meat, and he felt almost betrayed by that. Trapped by how easily she could hand out everything he desired. How strongly he already felt the urge to forget his silly grievances: forgive her her wilful freedoms and fuck her for all she was worth. He was in the wrong. He knew that above all. He couldn’t begrudge her who she was, when that was what drew him to her in the first place. But, seeing her like this… It almost made him feel like he could wallow in such selfish grudges, like she’d take them off his hands just as gladly as any declarations of undying love. Maybe that was the problem…

Hands. He looked down at his own. Creased and calloused. So unlike the smooth, silky softness he now knew of her skin. Yet she loved the rough feel of them, that he knew too. Mark felt the firm swell of a buttock provided to him freely, and felt a sudden dark urge. Before he could think, his hand had drawn back… and snapped down against her with an echoing smack. In the corner of his eye he saw Peter flinch, then move a step forward. Only to stop when he saw what Mark himself now did…

Stacy had braced forward with the shock of the sudden blow... a shiver running up her spine like a startled cat. Yet she had held onto that position, her back arching to it’s very limit and inner arms squeezing her breasts together. She had closed her eyes and caught her lower lip in a nibbling bite. Even as the boys watched she pushed herself back into her previous position, pressing her ass back into the palm that had struck her and craning her neck back over that shoulder with a look not injured... but expectant.

Mark reset his gaze upon that one which dared him onwards. He raised his hand again… and slapped it across her cheeks. This time she was ready, hardly moving at all with the blow, yet sucking that lower lip even further between her teeth with a satisfied hiss. That wordless voice of her posture and demeanor seemed to pipe up again: ‘Is that all you’ve got?’ it asked, ‘Is that all I deserve?’ Mark raised his other hand and smacked her on the other side. He gave her another and another. Quite quickly she had to release that lip for fear of biting through it, but the accompanying smile remained. She closed her eyes again and gave out an infuriatingly appreciative “Mmmm” with every blow. Eventually these turned to yelps as the slaps came harder and faster, but they were the sounds of an excited puppy... not a creature in true pain.

Mark felt his cock throb and harden with every beat of this scene. Every sting on his palms where they met her covered flesh. He was unleashing all his pathetic, pent up, teenage riotry on her and the girl was only becoming more turned on by it. He rested his swollen shaft on top of the crack of her. Felt the curious slide of nylon against its sensitivity. Felt the earthquake below it as her muscles rippled through every impact. Soon his whole mind was consumed by the frenzy of that connection, by his desire for this soft but unflinchingly stubborn harlot. In a fit of raging arousal he tore open those flimsy tights, unveiling the dripping pink flesh within. He drove himself straight into her, tip to hilt, and bathed in the welcoming wetness. How could he possibly stay angry at one who could contain him so easily? Who could take all he handed out and just come begging for more… Mark slapped her ass again and felt the blow from inside as well this time. That was another new experience she’d granted him.