We recently discussed fantasies and other interests, and you quietly mentioned that you thought being slapped would be hot. I blushed at the thought, because the act of slapping you in the face was one I never thought I’d perform. The more I thought about it, the more excited I was. So I asked if you minded me springing it on you when it felt right. You grinned that sexy grin and shook your head, “No… not at all.”
It had been a few days since we’d had any alone time together. We were interrupted last time by a crucial phone call from your job and I was left panting and disheveled against the wall, my entire body pink and covered in a thin layer of sweat. I thought about it over and over again, how you’d grabbed my hair at the nape and bent me back, kissing me with such passion that I felt I was almost devoured with it. I’d been wearing skirts to the office the last few days, because it allowed me freedom to touch myself when no one would be looking. I told you I’d been thinking about our broken-off meeting and that I’d be sure to keep everything easy-access for the next few days. You didn’t say a word, but you booked it to your office and sat down. I grinned from ear to ear for another two hours until I knew we’d be alone.
I walked into your office with a smile, doing my best not to grin, and made friendly chat as the last two co-workers left. You didn’t hide your pleasure at seeing me, and that grin was already working on me. I felt warmth and dampness between my legs and it grew the longer I had to wait. Once everyone was gone, I walked in and closed the door. You stood up and started to speak, and I slapped your face. For a moment, you were in shock, you stared at me with wide eyes. Then, your eyes narrowed and you growled at me as you came toward me, walking me back with a palm on my chest and slamming my shoulders against the wall. Your hand found my throat and held it gently, your fingers turning my jaw to one side as you appraised me.
You leaned in and hoarsely whispered “You dirty fuck. How dare you?” My eyes closed and my knees went weak, I leaned my ass hard against the wall to keep from sliding, but it didn’t help. You grabbed my hip with your free hand, and then licked up the side of my neck, nibbling my ear. “Oh no, Anya. You won’t get away that easily,” you taunted. I moaned softly in reply and you moved your hand from my throat. You leveled me with a lustful stare and spun your finger at me, “Turn around, and face that wall. Now.” Your voice had deepened and I felt confident in one last challenge of your authority.
I started to turn, but I reached up with my other hand and slapped the un-reddened cheek, answering your first question to me “I’m not the dirty one here, Lucas.” You hissed in your breath and then grabbed my wrists, turning me yourself and pressing one of your large hands over both of mine, above my head on the wall. You spread my legs aside by pressing your thigh between them, anchoring me and forcing me to stand on my toes as you undid your belt and pants, sliding them low enough to free yourself as you lowered your leg. You lifted my skirt roughly over my ass and pressed your hips forward, sliding your length along the outside of my panties.
I groaned, trying to steady myself against the sounds I was bound to make, my hips always having a mind of their own and rolling up to meet you. You teased me again “Tsk, tsk, tsk, you are the dirty one here. Look at your hips twitching.” You paused for a moan as I squeezed my thighs against your shaft in silent rebuttal, then slapped my ass for it. You pulled my panties down, again just low enough to give you access, and rubbed briefly along my lips before thrusting inside. You like to push me just to the edge, and so you slammed your hips against my ass. I squeaked and rose up higher onto my toes, only coming down as you started your slow slide backward, pulling almost free as you did. “Tell me that you want to be fucked, Anya.”
I fought my strong inner will that so likes to argue and banter with you, even when I’m pinned beneath you or riding on top, and quietly said, “I want to be fucked.” You held your hips still, forcing mine to remain still with the hard grip of your hand, and growled “Louder.” I pressed my cheek against the wall for a moment, closing my eyes and channeling my desire, and finally pleaded “Please, Lucas. Please, I need to be fucked.” You slid back inside in one smooth motion, dropping your grip on my hands and moving the newly freed hand to my other hip, grunting with each firm thrust as the moans started to drip from my lips.
I balled my fists, my fingers searching for something to grip, and my body went rigid as I braced against your thrusts. My fingers uncurled only to claw the wall at my shoulders, letting out loud, sharp moans as you drove deep in short thrusts, I panted “Fuck, oh fuck,” and came breathlessly as my cheek slid up and down against the marble tiled wall, the sweat on my hands making streaks as I continued to claw against it. You wrapped your arms around my waist and pulled me back toward you as you attempted to hit new angles, and I wrapped my hands behind me and over the back of your neck to hold on.
You husked out dirty things against my ear with each thrust, calling me a filthy girl, telling me how badly I needed your cock, and I moaned in reply each time. I was beyond ecstatic, and I came again, followed shortly by you. Your thrusts became sloppy and erratic and I leaned my hands against the wall to take my weight off of you. You slowed your hips and held yourself buried inside of me until you were spent while I panted and sagged against the cool tiles. As you slid from me, you smirked and told me you could get used to being smacked around. I laughed quietly, licked my lips as I slid my panties up and my skirt down, and said “Yes, I could too.”
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/40oevs/a_snack_before_dinner_mf