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From: <mrspraycan.an@edtec.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.spanking,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: Repost: Seductions 3/Mr.Spraycan


Disclaimer: Adults only, whatever that means wherever you are lucky enough
to be reading this. 18, 21, 27? Pick your own irrational numerology. Right,
let's all worry about dirty words while violence, evil empires and
political corruption rule. 'Not much' resemblance to real or historic
persons, places, etc., is intended.
	Copyright (c) 1997 by Baton Rouge Thoughtscapes and its author,
Mr.Spraycan, who chooses to remain 'anon.' Do not repost, store on public
sites without permission. No commercial use is warranted. For personal use
and/or entertainment purposes. Visit the Spraycan site:
<http://www.sinewave.com/spraycan> for much more 'stuff.'
	Note: Continuation w/overlap from "Seductions: 1," to be found free
at the website (5/5 thru 5/15 only.), and S.2, filed here.


SEDUCTIONS: 3
By MrSpraycan


	I see the wicked gleam in Maria's eyes as I take her into the
living room. She had already shown a lot of interest in my computer set up,
in an alcove by the home entertainment center. I don't like to work from
home much. A forced separation thing, it's better to restrict work to the
tiny rented office. But I have a reasonable amount of multimedia and video
stuff, in case inspiration strikes at odd times. You never know when you'll
want to work on fixing a page, or editing a clip.
	Maria is fetchingly naked, still flushed and damp from the shower.
She's looking longingly at my very expensive digital camera, mounted on its
tripod. She bites her lip and turns to me: "Are you going to make me . . .
uh, you know?"
	I pat her backside firmly and tell her: "No, of course not! You're
going to volunteer, all by yourself, Maria." She blushes, but quickly nods.
	"But first, I believe I heard a wicked young lady say she wanted
her tits slapped. Am I right?"
	She sighs: "Yes. Please."
	"Okay . . . In the kitchen."
	What a perfect ass, I think as she walk away.
	"See that wooden paddle thing on the wall, the pizza flipper or
whatever it is?" Her eyes follow my pointing finger.  "Get it."
	And, honestly I don't know what the hell it is. It was a present, I
think. Or maybe I bought it in a fog one afternoon, in my boozy days. It's
from Williams-Sonoma, and it's one of those mostly useless kitchen
implements guys tend to own, even though they otherwise only have one
saucepan and a skillet.
	Mostly useless, till now. She scurries back and presents it to me,
reverently with two hands. I've fished something out of a desk drawer that
she may like, afterwards. "You're not going to use your hand?" she asks
nervously.
	"Nope. Why would I?"
	A deep breath. She has no answer.
	"Hold your tits, please, Maria."
	She cups them delicately, lifting them a little. Her pink nipples
have darkened and hardened. She's excited, tense.
	"So, how many, sweetheart?" I ask, raising my eyebrows and smiling
at her predicament.
	"Th . . . three? Each?" she says with a catch in her throat.
	"Ha!" I shake my head. "You little coward! No. Don't be absurd."
	"Please . . . it looks very cruel," she pleads, seeming genuinely
anxious.
	"Good. Wouldn't have it any other way . . ."
	"Five?" A sob.
	"Let's try ten, shall we?"
	"Each?"
	"Mr. Equal Op, that's me . . ."
	She closes her eyes. I take my time, and make sure each stroke is
good and hard, and makes a tit bounce nicely. Each produces a loud meaty
slap, just like spanking a woman's ass. Very satisfactory. She yelps, cries
quite miserably, but stands there and takes it. When I'm done, her breasts
seem a little swollen, and are nicely decorated with fat red marks. From my
clenched fist I take what I found in the desk drawer: two nasty little
crocodile clips with serrated edges. Intended for fat legal files, I
imagine. I salvaged them from somewhere. Now, snap, snap, they're dangling
from Maria's nipples, digging in sharply. She's wide-eyed with shock, and I
laugh at her look of outraged innocence.
	"You're so mean," she accuses angrily, a tremor in her voice.
	"Pleased you think so. Well, let's not waste this thing, now we've
got it out. Turn round and bend over, please. I think your fat little ass
needs a few strokes, too."
	She's stroking her sore tits, tears running down her face, a look
of misery directed at me. Then, with a snotty sniffle, she turns quickly,
and bends over with the practised grace of a fitness type, seizing her
ankles. I step alongside her, and begin to spiritedly whack her buttocks,
raising the paddle shoulder high. Only twenty or so strokes, but damned
good ones that are going to give her some bruises. Her moans and cries are
quite restrained, considering how much this must hurt. When I pull her to
her feet -- she wasn't going to move, perhaps inviting more -- she flings
her arms round me and gasps: "Oh, you bastard! You brute!"
	That's me. Happy to be appreciated.
	A long deep kiss, my tongue poking around, a tight grip on her
sweaty, baby-soft skin, fingers probing for her cunt.
	"Love, huh?" I chuckle meanly, after she responds by humping my hand.
	She lays her head on my shoulder. I feel her tears running down me.
A few tickling their way into my bellybutton, my pubes. My cock is standing
to attention again, and I decide it might as well get some respect. I push
her down on to her knees, so she can suck on it for a while, but I choose
not to pump her mouth full of spunk. Instead, it's time to honor her
earlier, unspoken request.
	"Up you get, Maria."
	"Oh, please, let me . . ."
	"Later. Over there. Sit on the barstool."
	She limps over, perches uncomfortably on the edge before sitting
down. I slip the alligator clips off. Her nipples are squashed, deeply
marked.
	"Open wide, soles of your feet together."
	"Like this . . .?"
	"More. Now, stop playing with your tits and grab your pussy."
	As I'm instructing her, I'm clicking on the digital camera, lining
it up. It's what she wants, very badly. And to tell the truth, few if any
women who visit my apartment don't want to do this at some point. Why? A
Quest for Immortality, the ultimate Lover's Gift? The total daring of the
sexually aroused? Because women have filthy exhibitionistic minds and want
to show off their slutty cunts? One or more of the above? Try the opposite,
which works just fine: Why not?
	She's stroking herself. They always do.
	"Take your time, Maria . . ." I say softly. "Make it good, baby . .
. make it very good. Don't hold anything back. Lean back a little . . .
wider, don't be shy . . . fingers in the wet stuff . . . oh, can you smell
that? Delicious! Show me, baby . . . show me inside. Aaah. Pull on your
clit? Just look at it, it's huge! So purple and excited . . . lick your
fingers. Tastes good, hmmm? Now, rub it. Just like you would in bed . . .
don't pretend. You do it every single night, don't you? Yes. Don't lie.
Dreaming of a good fuck, a good spanking. A stiff prick ramming you, hard .
. . well, it's true, isn't it? Are you getting hot? Take your time,
darling, you want to have a big juicy cum . . . the better it is, the more
you're going to like it when I start fucking you . . ."
	She's soon in full flight, oblivious to the show she's putting on,
and I shut up. Women are so beautiful to me when they lose it completely,
and she has. She's bright red in the face, she has tears on her cheeks, her
head's thrown back, neck stretched. She's dribbling from the corners of her
mouth. Her eyes are hooded, wild with lust. She has the soles of her feet
tightly pressed together, ankle tendons straining. She has pulled them up
so her thighs are widely spread, showing her vulva in all its messy pink
and crimson glory to the camera. She has a tightly trimmed, bikini waxed
pubic bush -- she works at a salon, it's free! -- and is exposing herself
as though she's auditioning for a gynecology training video. With one hand,
fingers splayed, she's opening her crack, peeling back her labia. With the
stiff fingertips of the other, she's rubbing herself frantically, pressing
hard on her clitoris and only pausing briefly to wipe her sticky fingers on
her thighs. There's a big milky puddle collecting on the seat under her
ass. Now it's dripping off the edge. Fascinating.
	I watch with satisfaction as she comes, grunting urgently several
times before letting out a huge, hungry moan. Her tremors and shivers take
a while to subside, and she sits rocking from side to side, eyes closed, a
huge grin on her face. I click off the camera, and step close. She opens
her eyes, with that alert, hungry look I particularly like. I put my arms
round her, lift her up a little. She gets the idea, provides some guidance.
I slide my cock into her juicy cunt in one easy motion. She wraps her legs
round me, locking her ankles behind my back, high. The grip of her vaginal
muscles is immensely strong. I put both hands under her ass, and lift her
clear of the stool. She catches her breath. I guess her backside's still
sore. She's quite light, to me. I carry her slowly back to my bedroom,
murmuring in her ear: "You're a very dirty girl, Maria. We must have a long
talk about what kind of discipline you need, mustn't we?"

(to be continued)

Copyright (c) 1997, Mr.Spraycan

[Part of Work In Progress, provisionally "Just Like Don Giovanni's Blues."]

Halleluia, halleluia!!!
MrSpraycan has a full service website: <http://www.sinewave.com/spraycan>
Adults only, and guaranteed to blow your mind . . . A place where you can
get much more of this and other fine erotica.



[ Via EDTec Anon Remail Service: <infos.an@edtec.com> ]

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