Texas Heat: Nosy Lady, Rosy Bottom

(Bratty Brandi’s bare bottom burnished when nosy neighbor lady gets her licks in.)

When the doorbell rang the next day, I assumed it was the AC repairman. I was disappointed to see that it was only Miss Conaway, our next door neighbor. My one consolation was that she held in her hands a picture-perfect cherry crumb pie.

Inviting her in to have a seat, I noticed she seemed a little edgy. We weren’t close friends, but had gotten together on occasion for coffee. Miss Conaway was probably in her early forties, but it was hard to tell. She had that “ageless” look: smooth skin, fair complexion, perfectly combed blonde hair that may or may not have been natural. She was slender and long-legged and always carefully dressed, face flawlessly made up. Today she was wearing a blue print skirt and a crisp white blouse, thin-strapped white sandals over stockinged feet. Her blouse wouldn’t stay crisp for long in the sweltering heat of my house, and she would probably regret the stockings, too, if she stayed for very long.

I, on the other hand, was still scantily clad in revealing cutoffs and a red tank top of a thin fabric that showed the hard little buttons of my nipples. My husband, Daniel, had instructed me to dress that way with the knowledge that the AC repairman was coming that day, and he wanted a full report of the effects of my appearance on the repairman.

I imagined my husband’s amused response to Miss Conaway’s frequent furtive glances at my hard nipples and pert round breasts, and felt a little tremor in my pussy. I squared my shoulders and thrust out my breasts, pretending to be unaware of my lusty appearance and Miss Conaway’s discomfort at it, as I went about slicing the pie and pouring coffee while she sat at the kitchen table watching me.

“The pie is a wonderful treat,” I said. “Thank you so much, Miss Conaway.”

She cleared her throat. “I started to bring it over last night. In fact, I—“

I gave her a look, urging her to go on, but couldn’t say anything as my mouth was full of delicious cherry pie.

She took a deep breath and forged ahead. “I was walking across the yard to bring the pie last night, and I couldn’t help but notice…well, your window was open, and I could see right in, and I heard you…”

I swallowed hard and took a large gulp of scalding coffee to keep from choking on the pie. Miss Conaway had seen my husband spanking me last night! At first I was mortified, and quite speechless. Then I felt that familiar thrill in my telltale cunt.

“Miss Conaway, I don’t know what to—“ I began, but she interrupted.

She seemed to reach down within herself and find a reserve of strength. Then she went on. “I want to give you this.”

She handed me a card and I stared at it blankly. When the card’s contents finally registered and I realized what she was telling me, it was all I could do to keep from laughing. The card contained the phone number for the Domestic Violence Prevention Center.

Miss Conaway had no idea that the spanking I had received was totally erotic and that I had been completely consenting. She thought I had been abused!

I don’t know if it was the afterglow of the previous night’s lust, or just my ornery nature that made me say what I said next. Maybe it was the desire to see the perfectly coifed, always cool and composed Miss Conaway crumble like pie crust and expose her own true animal lust (if she had any).

At any rate, I decided to have a little fun with my lovely neighbor. I let my hazel eyes widen innocently and said, “I don’t understand, Miss Conaway. My husband says that it’s quite acceptable for a man to discipline his wife, if she’s been naughty.”

She blushed and looked away, her façade slipping.

“Well, I’ve never been married, but no man has EVER s-s-spanked me like that!” she declared emphatically. The fact that she had trouble saying the “s” word told me that it struck a nerve deep within her. I gambled that it was a nerve somewhere in the region of her cunt.

I had to repress the smile that threatened to curl up the corners of my mouth. I maintained my innocent expression. “But Daniel says it’s the man’s job to correct the woman. I know he only does it for my own good. Sometimes I’m very naughty and have to have my bottom spanked.”

She fidgeted on her chair, poking at her untouched pie with her fork, and I went on, emboldened by her squirming. “It’s not as if he beats me,” I went on, “He only spanks my bottom, you see, and I behave much better afterwards. The spankings only hurt for awhile and don’t leave any marks. See?”

I jumped up and unzipped my shorts, pulling them down around my thighs. I wasn’t wearing any panties. Her eyes widened and her mouth flew open, but she was speechless. I whirled around and thrust my bum into her face, confident that she would see only a flawless, round, creamy bottom, with skimpy bikini tan lines.

She sputtered and finally found her tongue. “Well, it seems inappropriate to do that sort of thing in front of the window where people can see,” she said.

“I’m sorry if you were offended, Miss Conaway. We should have been more careful,” I addressed her over my shoulder, slightly bent at the waist, still keeping my naked bottom in plain view for her inspection. The room became even more stifling, and her breathing became more labored, but it wasn’t because of the lack of air conditioning. After a few long, drawn-out seconds, she eventually did what I had hoped she would do—had known she would do. She reached out slender fingers and touched the soft skin of my irresistible rump. Then she drew her hand away as if she had touched fire.

“Humph. Well.” She mustered her dignity. “That’s another thing that’s unacceptable. Those bikini lines.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve seen you out in your backyard sunbathing, wearing next to nothing. And sometimes in the front yard too. Anyone who drives by can see you. That is completely inappropriate.”

“Yes, I suppose it’s naughty of me…”

She seemed to seize on an idea. “Does your husband know that you do that? Does he know that you’re out there half naked for all the world to see? If he did, he’d take that paddle to your behind. Because that’s something you probably SHOULD be spanked for!”

I would have giggled at her self-righteousness, but I was beginning to feel the familiar tugging at my cunt at the suggestion that I deserved a spanking. Now I whirled around to face her.

“You won’t tell on me, will you?” I pleaded, wriggling my shorts back up around my hips, but leaving them unzipped, so that she could see the narrow strip of dark hair down the center of my mound. “I was spanked only last night—I don’t want another spanking from my husband so soon. He gave me fourteen spanks last night. If he has to spank me again, he might double it!”

“I should tell him what you’ve been up to, you naughty girl,” she said, smiling smugly, knowing that she now held the high cards.

“Oh, please don’t, I beg you, Miss Conaway, I’ll do anything,” I pleaded.

“Well, it is naughty of you…”

“Please…” I whined.

She hesitated for what seemed like hours, but was only a few seconds. Finally she cleared her throat, lifted her head with great dignity and in a commanding tone said, “Turn around.”

I turned slowly, my bottom once again at her eye level.

“Pull down your shorts,” she said.

“But—what are you going to do?” I asked, a tremor of fear in my voice.

“You don’t want me to tell your husband. But you admit that you’ve been naughty and deserve to be punished.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed meekly.

“Then I’m going to punish you.”

“You’re going to spank me?” I said in astonishment.

“It’s the only way to right this wrong,” she insisted. “Pull them down, young lady, and don’t make me tell you again.”

Miss Conaway sounded so authoritative, I didn’t dare refuse her. Besides, by bottom tingled with the anticipation of feeling her delicate but firm hand on my back side. I’d never been spanked by a woman, and was quite titillated at the idea.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, rocking my hips side to side so that I could wiggle the shorts down around my thighs. I arched my back and bent at the waist, thrusting my sexy ass out in what I knew would be an enticing pose for any would-be spanker. I spread my feet apart until the shorts were pulled taut between my thighs. Over my shoulder I could see her craning her neck around to get a good look at my pink sex, shining and moist with excitement.

The first blow was pure ecstasy. I expected a tentative slap, but her elegant, graceful hand rapped sharply against my bottom, just grazing my moist pussy.

“You’re wet,” she accused.

“Yes, ma’am,” I admitted.

“You ARE a naughty slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I sniveled in my little-girl voice.

She delivered another swat, harder than the first, and followed it by roughly kneading the fleshy mounds of my rump. I groaned, feeling the sweat trickling down between my breasts. Then she delivered three more swats in rapid succession, each one harder than the last, and I was sure that the last one would leave a bruise.

“I think that should be enough for this time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I agreed, and reached to pull up my cutoffs, but her harsh forbidding tone halted me.

“I didn’t say pull up your shorts, did I?” she said.

“No, ma’am.”

I still stood slightly bent over, watching her over my shoulder. Her eyes were glazed as she reached out and gently stroked my sore bottom. The strenuous activity of administering my spanking had caused her skirt to ride up so that I could see the garters at the tops of her stockings. Of course Miss Conaway would be the sort of lady to wear sexy stockings rather than utilitarian panty hose. The sight of her creamy thighs at the tops of those stockings sent shudders from my breast to my cunt.

“When I was a little girl,” she said, “and I was being punished, I was told to sit in the corner and think about what I had done wrong. Now, off to the corner with you,” she said, with one last slap on my behind. I went to the nearest corner of the dining room and knelt, sniffling noisily, resting my prickly behind on the heels of my bare feet.

“Raise up on your knees,” she ordered. “I want to see your red bottom.”

“Yes, Miss,” I said, swiveling my head to look at her over my shoulder.

“Turn around!” she barked. I obeyed.

I didn’t dare turn to look at her again, but I could tell what she was doing by the sounds I heard: the rustle of fabric as she hiked her skirt up and reached her hand underneath it to caress her own cunt, which was probably as wet as mine by now. I imagined her gazing at her handiwork: her fingerprints glowing bright red on my sweet, just-spanked bottom.

As my own pussy dripped delicious juices down my thighs, she chastised me verbally for being such a naughty girl.

“You should be thankful that I gave you only five swats. I could have given you ten.”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you.”

“I hope this will be a lesson to you . . . that I won’t tolerate your slutty behavior.”

Her words were breathy, and I imagined she was rubbing her cunt harder, possibly pinching her swollen clit. I longed to play with my own precious hardened bud, but I knew instinctively that she would not permit it.

“That bikini you wear . . . it’s disgraceful,” she continued her breathless lecture. “Two little triangles . . . barely cover your nipples . . . a thong that barely covers your pubic mound . . .”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“. . . and if I see you again, half naked . . . sun-bathing . . . showing off your . . . your titties to everyone who passes by . . . “

“Yes, Mistress?”

Addressing her as “mistress” was like throwing gasoline on a fire, fueling her already flaming desire. I knew she would like that. Her movements became more rapid; I could hear the fabric of her skirt fanning around her swiftly moving hand. She must be finger-fucking herself by now, maybe about to come.

“If I see you again . . . acting like a slut . . . I’ll tell your husband . . .”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“. . . and he’ll use that paddle on you . . . I’ll make you . . . I’ll make you . . .”

She gave a deep, guttural groan and was silent, and I risked peeking over my shoulder to witness her beautiful orgasm. Her head fell back, her eyes closed, and her legs stiffened as her entire body grew taut with the spasms of her climax. With one last magnificent thrust of that hand that I now knew so well, she came on her own fingers, a soft moan escaping her pink-rouged lips. I’d never seen another woman climax before, and only hoped that I looked so beautiful when I had my orgasms. I turned back to my corner in silent awe of her powerful lust.

When she spoke again, she had resumed the uptight persona that she had evinced when she first rang the doorbell, but the huskiness of her voice betrayed her passion.

“All right, you may come out of the corner now.”

I turned and looked at her. Her face was flushed and her light blue eyes glistened with self-satisfaction. The room was musky with the odor of our two wet pussies.

“May I pull my shorts up now, Miss?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, blushing. She was slipping back behind her normal, neighborly façade, unsure how to behave in the aftermath of this new intimacy.

I wiggled my shorts up over my damp pussy, longing for my own sweet release, but knowing I would have to wait until my husband came home.

I sat back down at the table. I hoped that if I behaved normally, she would feel more at ease.

“I’m glad we . . . “ I began.

“Yes, so am I,” she said.

“. . . had this opportunity to talk and get to know each other,” I added.

“Yes, yes.” She stood and smoothed her skirt over her womanly hips, then reached down to caress my silky hair. “Perhaps this little episode won’t have to be repeated.”

“I can only hope,” I smiled up at her.

She let her hand drop from my hair to my breast, tweaked my nipple through the fabric, then in a flurry of feminine perfume and musky pussy scent, she hurried out the door.

The instant she left, I called Daniel at work to tell him what had transpired. He was so turned on by the idea of the fair Miss Conaway spanking my round ass that he said he was leaving work early to come home and fuck me.

“Have your shorts off when I get home,” he instructed me over the phone.

“But what if the repairman--?”

“Just do as you’re told, Brandi. I’ll be home in twenty minutes.”

In fact, he made it in seventeen minutes, dropping his briefcase just inside the door and unzipping his pants.

I greeted him at the door completely naked and moved in for a hug, but he took my shoulders and spun me around, steering me back into the living room where he bent me over the arm of the sofa. I spread my legs obediently and he rammed his cock into my wet, waiting pussy. The thrill of that hard cock filling me to the brim sent electrical shock waves straight up my spine and into my brain, stopping for a brief jolt to my nipples that brushed against the soft velvet fabric of the sofa.

He pounded into me, grasping my hips in his hard strong hands, so that my bottom slapping against his middle echoed the earlier spanking.

“Yes!” I cried out, feeling his cock swell inside me, knowing he would come at any instant.

He let out a wordless, animal yell as he shot his come deep inside me, clamping my hips against his hard belly, making me the vessel for his lust.

When the aftershocks of pleasure began to subside, I noted with a twinge of regret that the drapes were closed, so the neighborly Miss Conaway didn't get to witness our latest performance.

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