Coming Home for Lunch

He walked in to find her on her knees, scrubbing the bathtub. It was times like these, with her long dark hair pulled back messily, in his old college t-shirt and ratty blue jeans, that he was blind-sided by his love for her. As he paused in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her, his gaze lingered on her backside, the denim pulled taut over the generous roundness and his lips slowly lifted in a grin. His gaze moved up, to the wooden bathbrush hanging in the shower. They kept it there, simply because that was the only place it wouldn't draw attention. In reality, it was never used for anything other than paddling her bottom.

As he stepped into the bathroom, her head lifted and turned to meet his stare. She started to smile in welcome, but when she recognized the glint in his eyes, it faded to an expression of pure lust. When she saw him reaching for the bathbrush, her lips moved to a pout. The bathbrush certainly wasn't her first choice, but the effects of it's use lasted much longer than other implements. As he shifted the weight of the brush in his hand, he touched her shoulder to indicate that she should lean further over the side of the tub. This way, her bottom lifted more and she was slightly off balance, making it less likely that she would attempt to shield herself from the brush.

As she waited for the first blow to land, she could feel the lust building alongside the anticipation of the spanking she was about to receive. He tapped the brush gently against her backside, and her breathing quickened. When the brush left her bottom, she inhaled sharply and let the breath out on a squeal as the brush connected sharply with her backside. He let the brush rest there for a few seconds before striking the other cheek. He continued, from one cheek to the next, rhythmically, grinning as she squirmed over the side of the bathtub. He paused when her breathing became labored, and rubbed her bottom.

"Sit up," he ordered and she leaned back up onto her knees. "Take off your clothes." This came in the form of a raspy growl, sending flashes of heat through her veins. She complied, slipping the shirt over her head, and wiggling out of the jeans, both of which we quickly tossed aside as he bent her back over the tub. Abandoning the bathbrush, he resumed spanking her with his hand, rapidly covering her already pink bottom with sharp spanks. She cried out and began to wriggle in earnest as the fire in her bottom built. Suddenly the spanking stopped but before she could ask why, she felt him enter her. In her position, she was stretched and filled completely by him. She moaned as he gripped her hips and began to ride her, driving them both to the edge and then drawing back just enough to keep them from falling. Finally, he rode them to the edge and over and she screamed as they shattered together, falling from reality.

After they both caught their breath, he pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck. "I love coming home for lunch," he whispered against her ear and she couldn't help but grin in response.