Loving Scents

The damned woman had finally left – Kristina thought she would never go, and the smell of her cheap perfume remained behind, a constant irritating reminder. As if her sore bottom wasn’t enough. Her husband seemed really taken with the new teacher and it was aggravating. She sighed deeply. Even though she hated Miss Collins and her ideas about time-wasting piano practice she had to admit that after she had painfully worked her way through the piece repeatedly it started to sound the way Mozart intended. She was sure Jack would really enjoy it if she applied herself and learned to play it well. She had never applied herself to anything in her life other than sex. Which reminded her.

She only had a few moments to figure out what was going on while Jack escorted her nemesis out to the driveway. Kristina still perched on the piano bench, her bottom never stopped stinging, and she was wet. It had been an unexpected and totally undesired result, but after Miss Collins had spanked her bare bottom like a little girl she had sat before the magnificent grand piano gushing as if her fingers had been flying over her clit rather than the keys, finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on music. How could her body respond to punishment as if it were pleasure? The scent of her sexual arousal wafted up to her and she tightened her thighs together – she prayed her husband didn’t smell it – surely if he did she’d get another dose, whether from him or from a hastily recalled Miss Collins. She’d heard of people who had that reaction, but she never had before. Of course, she’d never had punishment like that either. She wanted… she didn’t know what she wanted, but she ached for release. Her whole body was twisted inside, sexual desire driving her insane. Somehow or another she had to seduce Jack.

“Well, young lady…”

He strode into the room, the brawny picture of dominance. That hadn’t been in the original bargain, but Kristina was beginning to wonder if it should have been. She slipped along the bench, unable to avoid making painful little squeaks. As she stood up and raised her eyes to Jack, she was struck by the joy in his warm chestnut eyes. She moved to hold him, clinging to him, his alpha male scent filling her nostrils. It was a delicious sensation.

“Beatrice seems to think you need a reminder to continue your practicing. Let’s go upstairs and discuss it.”

One look at his eyes was all it took – if she was any judge of his intentions, she was about to get a little wetter, if it worked that way. She gulped, then her eyes strayed down the front of his shirt. The bulge in his pants was, to put it mildly, large. Her whole body tingled. Never in her life had the idea of being a man’s toy appealed to her, but right now she would do anything, anything to get him inside her. She followed him up the stairs to their bedroom, nearly running to keep up with him. He closed the door behind them – why? there was no one else in the house – and she stood there with her hands twisting behind her back. Wanting pushed her heartbeat to warp speed as she watched him slowly unbuckle his belt, but then her tummy dropped like a stone as he carefully folded it, firmly grabbed one end. He wasn’t going to take her? At least right now?

“Lay over the bed. You have a lot of missed practice to make up for, not to mention a few thousand dollars’ worth of lessons you wasted.”

“Please, honey, I really learned my lesson today. Honest. Miss Collins did teach me, you don’t have to spank me too, and didn’t my playing sound much better after I practiced?”

“Now.”

There was simply no arguing with a voice that firm. She moved, hesitantly at first, dropping across the edge of the bed, her legs dangling over the side, not quite reaching the floor. He brushed her dress up out of the way, then his hands touched her panties, moving first over her bottom, then his fingertips moved to the inner edge of her thigh. She heard him sniff. His fingers slipped between the fabric and her skin. My God, he knows, oh damn, he knows. This is really humiliating.

“Well, well, well. Looks as if that might not have been as brutal a punishment as I thought. Perhaps I should call Beatrice back. I bet she’d love a rematch.”

She tried to turn over but his hand was firmly on the small of her back.

“Hold still and look straight ahead.”

The belt landed next to her head with a quiet whisper of leather while she stared ahead, wondering what could possibly be next. She heard the rustling of clothing – being men’s clothing it was much quieter, but she was sure he was…

“Damn, not only are you beautiful but you smell like a bitch in heat. And I’m just the big dog to have you.”

He bounced on the bed and she didn’t dare look – he’d told her not to – until she felt his warm naked body against hers. He pushed her over on her back and the pain as her swollen cheeks rubbed against the sheets didn’t matter at all. She was ready for him and she wanted him and his eyes were smiling, wide with anticipated pleasure. It took only a second before he’d pinned her against the sheets, holding her small body perfectly still. Her legs were free, though, and she wrapped them around him, her body open, slippery with need, feeling the very tip of his huge cock teasing her, opening her just a little. She’d have wriggled if she could, but she was his, his to have, to hold, and to take. Quiet moans escaped her lips – normally it took a while to arouse her but this afternoon she was ready for him. She relaxed as his coiling muscles flexed before his thrust, then she threw her head back and screamed in pleasure as he filled her so totally that more would have stretched her beyond the pleasure point. His thrusts were slow and long, each lifting her to some new place, a level of pleasure so sweet it hurt. Her eyes locked closed, the roar of his breathing filled her ears, but the scent, their scent, the smell of their coupling was what saturated her senses. Pleasure forced a series of cries from her as she lifted as much as she could, forced herself to him, all the while loving his sensory assault on her, skin on skin, so intense she lost track of time, place, life itself, nothing but him, her, riding each other together. She climaxed in moments it seemed, the force of his love driving it from her far more quickly than him. He continued slowly, and though she felt so sated that his body rubbing against her sensitive clit was almost painful, from somewhere she found desire again, forced herself against him, followed his every move until they both came, together, a chorus of voices filling the room.

 * * *

 They lay, sometimes waking, sometimes sleeping, watching the light fade to the gentle pinks and violets of sunset, bodies touching always. She opened her eyes and stared at him, at his muscular body and his long brown hair, his dark skin such a contrast to hers. She was content to just watch him, to drink in his essence. And he was hers, oh God, he was hers. How, why, what kind of divinity had given him to her she had no idea, but he was hers. And she was his. She smiled, was still smiling as his brown eyes opened.

 “Hi, sleepy head.”

 He groaned.

 “I’m not complaining, mind you, but that was the most incredible fucking of my life. What in the hell got into you?”

 “Well, honey, I’ve been trying to figure that out while you slept. I’m not happy about it, but I think you may want to have Miss Collins over a few times. Either that or you’re going to have to… uh… do that yourself.” Her face flushed and she was positive that her cheeks must have been crimson. Her other cheeks – her bottom still was too, probably.

He smiled.

“Well, it sure was fun watching her spank you. I think we’ll stick with that for a while.”

 He pulled her to him, buried his head in her hair.

 “And damn, I have to say, you smell delicious.”

 She laughed.

 “That’s not me. That’s both of us.”

 He pulled back and looked at her.

“That’s fine – we’ll just have to keep doing that as well…”

——-

This is a follow on to Monday’s Practice story, and is a response to Aisling Weaver’s Fuck-Me-Friday series (That’s a little embarrassing to put in your blog, much less to tweet) – the theme is #smell

One Response to Loving Scents

  1. Pingback: Loving Scents | Passion's Blooming Rose

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