“I met her after school…”
– BASED ON ACTUAL EVENTS –
“It’s right there,” I said.
We walked along the road, getting closer with every step. We reached a corner, but I didn’t peek around as I had done the previous day, and the day before that. I knew she was there. I turned around the corner, Kenny and Trish still behind me…
… and I saw her. A pair of tight jeans, a turquoise cut-sleeved shirt; her amber hair and jade eyes, few freckles on her face. She sat on top of the stone wall dominating the street from above; she sat still and tranquil, a book in her hands, her feet dangling over the edge of the wall, waving above the pedestrians’ heads. She wore light blue cotton socks, her shoes placed neatly on the wall.
I stopped beneath her, and so did Kenny and Trish. I stood there for a while, watching her. She had not noticed me. Yet. But I knew she would…
“Call her,” said Kenny.
“No.”
“What’s her name again?” Trish asked.
“I don’t know.”
I felt my friends exchanging looks behind my back. And still I waited, one minute, then another. I shut them up waving my hand, and still we kept waiting. One more minute, one more.
Then, finally, she raised her eyes from the book and glanced at me. Not a smile or a wave or anything. There was no need for that. I knew she knew I was there all the time. She was waiting for me, I was sure. Like all the other times.
In a flash she slammed the book shut, put it in a small bag, grabbed the bag and the shoes and descended the other side of the wall. There had to be a ladder or something, I didn’t know and I didn’t care, and I did not want to know. To me, she was just the girl on top of the wall with her feet hanging over the street. I didn’t want to know how she got there or got down, nor who she was. Her interests, her favourite music, her favourite team, her school, her friends… it was not relevant. Futile.
Kenny and Trish flanked me on both sides. “Why she was shoeless?” Kenny asked.
“She likes it that way. And so do I.”
Trish shrugged, but Kenny murmured something like ‘cool’.
After a few seconds she was aside us. I felt happy and smiled to her, and she smiled back faintly, but I could tell my friends were surprised, if not shocked. I too had been dumbstruck the first time.
She wasn’t taller than a metre and a half, still a child in size despite her age, but you couldn’t tell so from her face outline.
“Hi,” I said.
Again she smiled back, still without a word. Her smile was captivating. Radiant, like her.
We walked towards my home, which was a couple of blocks away. With a few calculations I would eventually find out that the wall was exactly halfway from my home and my school.
I kept her close as we walked, my hand holding her arm firmly but gently. Sometimes I just loved to hold her hand, others a wrist or an elbow, or my arm circling her shoulders. But delicately holding her arm between elbow and shoulder was my favourite. I think she liked it best also.
We got home after a few minutes’ walk. Streets echoed with noises, but I could hear her breath getting heavier, just like mine. The four of us stepped in from the front door, with Kenny and Trish whispering something to each other behind my back. I think they were trying to figure out whether it was all a fraud or not, if I would really do it or not. They were bound to find out very soon.
My home was small back then, small but very well kept. Mum made it a point to keep it clean, and wanted me to do the same. At first I thought of entering from the rear door to avoid the kitchen, so I could send her to my room and tell my mother something like: “Trish and Kenny and I will be doing homework,” but then I saw that mum’s car was not in the yard, and since she wasn’t home there was no danger.
Once in, we threw our bags down and took off our coats. It was early spring, and it was still a bit windy, but even being sleeveless her skin was warm to the touch. Kenny helped himself from the fridge and took sodas for us all, but I refused mine and she refused hers with a mild shake of her head. Still holding her arm, I led her to my bedroom. Oh, she knew perfectly well where that was anyway.
In we went. It was tidy, but not that much after all. I closed the door, then sat on the bed and pulled her to me, just like that, without warning. My two friends leaned against the wall opposite me and Kenny said daringly: “Let’s see what you can do.”
“Yeah, I’m curious…” said Trish, a bit more hesitantly.
I nodded. I looked at her, and she smiled a nervous smile. She was breathing heavy, now I was sure. It was trepidation what she was feeling. Like me. Like she had been waiting that moment for a week – and, in fact, she had. She wanted that, and so did I. I smiled back, and ruffled her hair sympathetically.
I stared into her deep green eyes, then looked at my friends waiting and watching.
Did they really think I wouldn’t spank her?
“Bend over.”
And she did, until she was draped over my lap. She shifted and squirmed a little, finding the optimal position, and I let her do it. I felt an intake of breath from Kenny and Trish, now staring transfixed at us. Now she was almost perpendicular to me, maybe a little diagonal across my knees. Her feet and ankles, with those socks every day different, twisted and laid over each other in a nervous dance. Her hands were on the bedspread, and so were her chest and head, one cheek resting on the sheets, her eyes staring at the wall. We weren’t used to public, but we had both agreed we would like to try, and now it was too late to back off.
In front of me laid the most beautiful bottom I’ve ever seen in my life. Every time it produced a shock and a thrill in me. Pert, prominent, round, full, perfectly shaped. Soft. A masterpiece of nature. Never in my life I would see a better one.
I was very keen to start by then, but I waited a few seconds more, enjoying the sweet tension that was building up in the room. I shifted her on my lap, so that my target was placed the way I wanted it. I moved it around a bit, only to end up placing it back where it was – she knew exactly how to position herself.
Then it all began.
spank!
There was a loud crack, and an intake of breath from her, as her hands instinctively grabbed the sheets and her head bobbed up in surprise. A small wrinkle appeared on her forehead. My friends jumped up in surprise as well, Kenny raising his eyebrows and Trish bringing a hand to her mouth.
I waited one more second, and then… whack!
Two. I usually did not count, but it was unavoidable at the very start.
I caught my rhythm and stopped counting, just as planned. After that latest stroke her face was distorted in a grimace, but she hadn’t yelped or cried out. I knew it was not really hurting – not yet – but there was a definite sting, like an urge to scratch spread all over her buttocks.
I kept it up at a steady pace for one long minute, smacking hearty smacks although not the hardest I could deliver. I did not want to get tired so soon into the spanking, and I didn’t want to hurt her more than it was needed. I did put effort in it anyway, and when I stopped for a brief pause I saw she was clenching her fists and her eyes, fighting hard not to cry out.
I looked at Kenny and Trish: he was smiling, she still looked shocked (but the fact she was there and was watching it told me she was not that shocked after all). Then I looked at my charge, and once again our eyes met.
I looked for the consent as I always did, the authorisation to proceed, to keep it up, to continue the game. It always worked like that for us. It was a fair relationship, and it worked by the rules we had silently established.
After a few more seconds – maybe a hesitation on her side, maybe a simple wait – I saw her nodding. She sniffled a bit. Her tears were there, now it was only a matter of time before they came out.
“Get up,” I said. She pointed her hands on the sheets and knelt on my right. “No, stand up. All the way.”
She did as told and stood up straight on the floor in front of me. She brought a hand back to rub her backside, and I allowed that; sometimes, as a part of the game, I punished her for doing so. Once I had been extra-severe about this, so harsh she still remembers that day… but that is another story.
While she rubbed, I brought my hands to the front of her jeans and started undoing them, causing a little shriek from Trish and something like “wow!” from Kenny. I pulled down the zipper and unfastened the one button. Her shirt fell down to a little below the jeans waistband, and I sneaked my hand beneath it to check if she had a belt. I also asked her, and she shook her head no.
“All the better,” I said. She giggled.