(Continuing that excerpt from “Between the Lines”: thoughts about pleasure, while delivering my second-ever successful spanking.) 

As I continued, slowly building up the force of the smacks, she gave me movements to watch, the rocking of her hips and buttocks as she pressed down against me and then offered herself up in answering rhythm to my hand.

No, your head stays down.

She had tucked her hair behind her ears, but now she was in motion it fell forward over her face.

There were tactile pleasures, the curve of her buttocks and thighs under my hand, soft when I touched her gently, and firmly resilient when I touched more fiercely. The impact of my palm against muscles, the reactions of her body in that second of impact; those sensations were all the more intense for only lasting for an instant.

Maureen’s body pressed against mine, her hips slowly pumping, moving on my cock and under my hand. I was achingly aware of every silken micro-movement of her belly or her thighs.

There were sounds, too: the claps of skin against skin and her occasional answering grunts. And there were our own heady smells.

{To be continued].