From: hammersmith@aol.com (Adrian Hammersmith)
Subject: Grapefruit
Date: 12 Sep 1994 09:11:04 -0400
This is a fantasy, based largely on real events of the past week, written by my alter-ego, Wolf.
I was running in the park. First time in a while, but I knew if I did not take advantage of the gorgeous Fall day, I'd feel guilty about it all week. Everyone was out. Rollerbladers, cyclists, baby strollers, walkers, everyone.
I felt great. I passed everyone, even bicycles, going up hills. Swans in the pond near Church Street Gate. I passed the little knoll where my friend Ismael and I sat just yesterday. He's gay and he is the only one ('til now) I've ever told about my thing with spanking. Last week I'd told him about the Rob 'n' Brad stories and he wanted to see them. Yesterday I printed them out and gave them to him. He loved them. I even got him to explain what "breeders" were.
I swooped up the far hill and checked my watch. A new personal best for the park! I felt pretty happy though tired, and swung out the Corona Ave. exit. Crossing the street, 20 meters in front of me, heading up to the park to run, was a young goddess.
White running top and pale lilac satin running shorts. Struggling a bit up the hill to the park. Blond... James Blond. Single braided pony tail part way down her back. Gorgeous tan skin. Very pink cheeks, high cheek bones, brilliant smile. Smiling even as she panted up the hill.
Predatory instincts on full alert by this point. If she were 5'10" I wouldn't have given her a second look; a model, inaccessible, knows how beautiful she is. My goddess was different. 5'3" maybe; I could have picked her up and carried her in my arms. Which I very much wanted to. Her smile was self-deprecatory, like she knew she shouldn't be panting so much for just starting out. I thought of her as Helga.
I turned and nonchalantly checked her out as she passed by. Yes, in that nonchalant way we men have thinking no one notices we do it. Except that we always notice when other men do it... Oh well, I didn't care this time.
Tired as I was, I decided maybe I could use another lap of the park. She wasn't going very fast so I knew it would be no problem to stay about 50 feet behind and admire the view. Her wonderful small round bottom swaying from side to side. The way the lower cheeks peeked out more and more as the shorts rode up a little bit.
The last thing I was going to do was to run alongside and try to introduce myself or make some comment. Tough enough for women to run by themselves in a city like this, safe though it is compared to other cities. And anyway, I was getting more exercise.
She went for another lap and I'd decided I'd had enough, so I wistfully headed out and home, with some very pleasant memories and a smile of my own on my face. I stretched and hit the shower. Shampooed with Body Shop Frequent Wash Grapefruit, a favorite of runners for two reasons. One is, hey, we frequently wash our hair of course, and two is, yummm, grapefruit! Just what I want and crave after a run.
So after a while I headed for a fruit and veggie stand to get some grapefruit. And there she was. Buying grapefruit. What an opportunity.
"Ah, save some for me! They should reserve these for runners, you know." She gave a little cautious smile, avoiding eye contact in an adorable combination of shyness and big-city smarts. "Well, I run too, so I'm entitled" she said.
It wasn't the stuff of great literature but it got out that we'd both run in the morning, both had done two laps, I was happier with my time than she was, etc. Turned out she knew me from the Orioles cap I always wear when I run. I couldn't figure out how I'd missed her all those times. Taking a chance, I said so.
She blushed, lighting up those already pink cheeks again. Heaven on earth. I thought of other pink cheeks. Such fair nordic skin. Golden down gracing her soft but muscular legs. I asked her name. Not Helga, not that I was surprised. Catherine. "Can I see you?" I know, great line, but when you get lucky, and already establish several things in common -- running, grapefruit -- you are really beyond lines by then. She didn't know; she'd just broken up with someone, she wanted some space and time. All right, I said, here's my number, and I took the cashier's pen and scribbled it on an old register receipt.
I handed it to her. "OK," she said. "Catherine" I said, and I gave her "the look". I don't blink, my eyes are fixed on her. That's where my name comes from; Ismael gave it to me years ago. It told her I was serious, I was not just playing around here, and frankly, I wanted her.
A lot of baggage for a look to carry, I realize. But the look doesn't work unless all those feelings really exist in side me, the look funnels and focuses them and then transports the message unequivocably.
My eyes remained locked on her face. I could see her breath catch a little, then a little smile. She touched my hand briefly, turned and left. Without even buying any grapefruit.
I took a walk, stupidly lugging around 6 grapefruit in a flimsy plastic bag, but I didn't want to go up to my apartment yet. My apartment where I lived alone, which would have felt excruciatingly empty for me, as it has since my divorce. I wanted to be out and around people then.
Eventually I'd had enough of the grapefruit pulling my arms out of their sockets and went home. There was a message waiting for me. It could have been anyone but I held my breath, just hoping. It was Catherine, thank God, I thought as I heard her message, it was Catherine. She did want to see me, she just didn't want to be pressured in person, she wanted some time to think, could I call her. 30 seconds later I had her on the phone. It was much easier to talk to her that way. We talked for an hour, neither of us wanting to hang up the phone.
We had dinner the next night. In one of those outside courtyard gardens in the middle of blocks behind small but great restaurants. It was cool but we didn't notice. We finished off a bottle of red wine. I just could not get enough of her face. Especially in the light of the candle in the middle of the table.
That weekend we went running together. My place was closer so I asked if she wanted to shower there and then get something to eat. She gave me a long look and said OK. I let her go first, giving her a large old cotton robe of mine. I resisted the urge to join her. Maybe she expected I would, I couldn't tell.
I stretched and waited. She reappeared after 5 minutes, looking like a vision. Her wet hair tousled, looking adorable in my robe. She padded out, smiling as she went by me into the bedroom. I headed for the bathroom.
When I got out, the bedroom door was open. She was sitting on the bed, still in the robe. Then I realized, she had nothing to wear except her sweaty running clothes. How stupid of me, I thought. Then thought again. She knew that when she agreed to come up here. I went into the bedroom, saying I just realized she...
"Shhhh" she said. "It's OK." And she stood up, and the robe fell open. And she smiled.
I groaned, and took her in my arms. I held her damp warm body against me. I kissed her neck, I kissed her cheek, then we kissed. The world ended. Or it began, I don't know which, but if I couldn't get enough of her face in the restaurant the other night, I knew I could never get enough of that kiss. Then I did what I had wanted to do the first moment I saw her. I picked her up, we kissed, I carried her to the bed, laid her down. She shrugged out of the bathrobe. I dropped mine and scrambled up next to her.
My hands were everywhere on her body. Hers were mainly around my neck, on my back, rubbing my thighs. Her body was paler than I expected, where it wasn't exposed when she went running. Her breasts were, well, like grapefruit. Small grapefruit. I told her so, and she liked that. Gave me a delightful little smirk but her eyes were laughing.
I devoured her with my mouth and tongue, everywhere. I guess passion does that but also the clean smell and taste of a woman just out of the shower. I loved her bottom, as I knew I would. I kissed and licked and bit it. She was on her stomach, my hands were under her, on her breasts. I ran my tongue down between her bottom cheeks. Bless me if she didn't open her legs then. I couldn't help but give a little laugh of pleasure and surprise, and gently licked and probed her little pink asshole with my tongue. Then down the inside of her thighs, the backs of her knees... my hands were busy too between her legs. She was moaning and squirming, her head against the comforter, turned to the side, her eyes screwed tightly shut, her mouth open. The afternoon sun came in dappled through the tree outside my window.
She turned over and sat up and came after me. We kissed, her hands on my penis, hard and hot and ready for her. She gripped it with one fist and stroked it lightly with the palm of her hand, back and forth on the head. I thought I was going to go crazy with pleasure. All this time we were kissing violently. She broke away and kissed my chest, pushing me backwards on the bed. She licked down my stomach, then suddenly took me in her mouth. Her very hot little mouth. With very tight soft lips.
Her hand caressed me, her mouth stroked me, her tongue teased me. Providence was giving me the full tour today, as I could see her haunches sticking up in the air from behind, in my dresser mirror. And if I ever got bored of that view, there was the sight of her blond hair spilling over my abdomen and thighs, and her head, bobbing up and down, and her face, popping up now and then, the most wonderful playful look on it, like a kid in a candy store.
After a while she sat astride me. Look, the first time you ever fuck someone that first moment when you are inside is magical and special, she was very wet and this was electric. I could tell it would be magical every time. We took it very slow.
This went on for hours. We'd lay exhausted in each other's arms and then one of us would decide he or she wanted more. The other one never said no. We had each other every way we could. Finally her stomach really growled, and we decided to go for some dinner. But she didn't have any of her own clothes, so we had to rig something up with an old sweatshirt of mine and some shorts. They looked adorably baggy on her, and we knew we couldn't go anywhere fancy like that, so we got some takeout, and went up on the roof of my building.
We were alone, the sun had long set but there was enough light. And then she told me she knew Ismael. And that she knew something else as well.
"You know Ismael?" I said. What else did she know, I wondered...
"I met him in the park", she said. "In June. I'd been hit by a bicycle while running and he was there." Probably right by the knoll where he hangs out, I thought. "He helped me up and made sure I was OK. My second time around he was still there, reading..."
"By the boathouse, right?"
"Yeah, exactly. So I went over and said Hi and thanks again, and we talked and I did my stretches. He's a great guy."
I agreed, of course, and then the bombshell:
"Wolf, um, he's told me a lot about you."
Very cryptic but I felt something in her hesitation. "Uh, oh" I said, smiling, trying to make a joke out of it. "What's on your mind, Catharine?"
"Well, it isn't his fault. One day we were just talking and, well, you know how he is, very free in talking about sex..." She blushed, very prettily.
I laughed. "That's Ismael. Very refreshing actually. Maybe we should call him Grapefruit."
She laughed too, and said she agreed completely. Said she felt like she could talk to him about anything and how she had just opened up one day and told him her secret fantasies.
I told her this sounded very familiar, I had done the same thing with him. Kind of like a therapist, in a way, or confessional. It had felt so good to talk out loud to someone totally nonjudgmental about your own intense sexuality, what your secret fantasies were all about.
Catharine said: "Wolf, I've known about you for awhile. I mean, oh, this is hard to tell you, but I've been watching you for awhile." I was startled, and my face showed it, and started to ask her why, but she stopped me. "Let me explain.
"Um, look, Ismael told me about his fantasies and all about the ones his friends had and, well, my own didn't seem any farther out than those. Plus he's gay and wasn't interested in me that way. And he is just so easy to talk to, especially when you're so relaxed after a run, and just laying there in the grass, on a warm summer day...
"So I told him my fantasies. I was blushing like crazy. I couldn't look him in the face when I told him. He was really smiling like mad, saying "awwww" and stuff. And then he told me, he had a friend, a straight friend, who had exactly the same fantasies as me. Only not exactly the same, complementary. He joked about it and said, maybe he should fix the two of us up."
Now I felt myself blushing. She had to mean spanking. She had to.
"You mean, you want to be spanked. And, you know I want to spank."
"Uh-huh." She still couldn't look at me directly, off into the distance at the skyline instead.
"Oh, Catherine... I can't believe this. It's too good to be true, I..."
She gave me a funny look right then and shifted to deflect the hug I was moving over to give her. "Wait, Wolf. I'm not sure about this. We have to talk first. I mean, I have fantasized about being spanked nearly all my life. And ever since Ismael told me about you, and pointed you out to me, and then I started running behind you -- yes, you came to the park pretty much the same time every day and I could fall in behind you with no trouble -- well, I've been really attracted to you and also knowing you would spank me too... but now..."
She smiled, a little sadly. "Now, what, Cath?"
"Now it is moving from fantasy to reality. It's not just the pleasure part of it, it could really hurt! I know, I know, spankings are supposed to..."
"Have you ever been spanked?" I wanted to hear all about this of course.
"When I was little. Not since I was maybe 7 or 8. When I was in high school, in Wisconsin, I had a crush on my physics teacher. He was tall and thin and had silver hair and looked very commanding. I got a 'C' in his course because I couldn't pay any attention to what he was saying. All I could do was imagine him spanking me. I had such elaborate fantasies, of him telling me to stay after class after a bad test grade, of having to go to his house at night for a 'conference', to going to him and confessing how little I studied and asking for his help with my discipline to study... Oh God, I can't believe I'm telling you all this!!"
This time my hug attempt was successful. She was pretty embarassed by it all but I just held her and stroked her hair. Gave her little sucking kisses on the earlobe, it was like a little dried apricot, it tasted so good...
I told her about my fantasies. They are pretty much the same as my alter ego's, though I'm much less stuffy about the sexual part. Teacher-student, yeah, I could get into this one! [That reminds me, my alter ego has had poor Emily waiting in her room for over a week! She's probably died of starvation, fear, or boredom by now.]
"Catherine, it's OK," I said. "Take your time with this. It is a lot very quickly with us. Get to know me better, feel more comfortable with me. We have all the time in the world."
She looked up at me, tears in her eyes, a very happy look on her face. I held her from behind, watched the twilight dance in her hair.
We fell asleep up there, on the roof. It eventually grew so cool it was uncomfortable and Catharine stirred. "Brrrrr, let's get downstairs," she said.
I said I hoped she could spend the night, just talk, sleep, be together, but she wanted to get back to her place as she had to be at work early the next morning. So I walked her home. We kissed and hugged and even laugh-cried a little bit at her door. I patted her rump a few times during our last embrace and she bit her lower lip in mock outrage at me. I loved her.
I finally fell asleep. I called her the next evening and left a message, and she didn't return it. It bothered me but I didn't pursue it. A few days later, on Wednesday, I called again, left a message again. No call. I was getting a little worried. I called Ismael.
"Look, Wolf, I really am sorry I told her about you. But I know your type. And you can't be sorry about how it turned out, can you."
I chuckled. "OK, Ish, but I am a little worried that I haven't heard from her all week. Last weekend was pretty intense. This seems strange to me. I really just wondered if you'd seen her and if she's OK."
"Don't be a mother hen, Wolf. Yes, I've seen her." I was instantly jealous of him. "She's fine. She has some things to work out, that's all. And I don't want to be an intermediary here, but I'll say just one more thing, 'cause you shouldn't worry needlessly. She adores you. So there."
"Thanks, Ish. For everything. I'll come by the park someday soon."
Well, that changed my mood from night to day! But still, why hadn't she called? What was she working out? Another relationship? Wouldn't be too surprising if she had one or more already. She was such a sweet kid. And I'm not the only male with eyes in these parts...
Friday afternoon I got home from work and there was a message from her. Just to call her after 6. My heart was racing as I punched in her number...
"Catherine, how are you? Is everything all right?"
"Wolf, I'm really sorry. It was rotten of me not to even call back this week. It's been a rough week at work, but, well... that wasn't the real reason. I've been thinking a lot, maybe that's all I'm thinking about -- about this spanking thing. You know, it reminds me of that high school year -- I've been worthless at work all week. But I've needed some time just to think about it, whether I want it in reality."
I said, maybe a little testily, that I had told her she should take her time with that, but she should have at least returned my call if only to say she was OK and still wanted to see me...
"Oh, Wolf, you're right, it was really insensitive. I am really really sorry. Look, the reason I called is to see, um, if you're free tonight. I know it is short notice and I'll understand if..."
I cut her off. "Catharine, of course I'm free for you. Even if I did have plans I'd change them. I want to see you. Very much."
She said to stop by about 8 at her place. I showered, dressed semi-casually, pullover sweater, beat up brown leather jacket, cords. A good hair day even.
It was a crisp autumn night and the half moon blazed away like a searchlight. I decided to walk, so I left at 7. Got there about 5 til 8.
I knocked on her door. Right then I remembered, I hadn't gotten any wine or flowers or anything. Forgot all about it. Didn't matter, as it turned out.
No answer. Well, maybe an answer. I thought I heard her voice from inside. "Catherine?" I said loudly.
"I said it's open" she yelled from somewhere. "Come on in."
I opened the door and stepped inside. Lights were low. Curtains were pulled. And Catharine was standing there, near the back of the room, outside her bedroom door. Her hair was done in her runner's pigtail. But that wasn't what I noticed right away.
She was dressed like a schoolgirl. I know, not that unusual these days. Except I'd never seen her like this. White blouse, buttoned all the way up, short sleeves, white and red plaid skirt to mid thigh, short white ankle socks, black loafers. Her hands clasped in front of her. She couldn't look at me. "Hi, Wolf" she said quietly. She was so embarrassed. Then I saw them.
The tawse and hairbrush on the coffee table.
Somehow, I knew what to do at that moment. She had gone to great lengths to set up the atmosphere and the situation. If I'd said "Catherine, what's this" or went to hug her or anything, it would be ruined. It was a very tense moment. All I could think of was to be her physics teacher.
"Catherine, you know why I told you to come by my house tonight, don't you?"
Her eyes went wide, her mouth opened. I could see her breathing quicken. She had realized I'd understood!
"Yes, sir..." Her voice had a delicious quaver in it.
"I've been talking with the other teachers and you are getting A's in all your other classes. Even trigonometry. So what is this with you in my class? You are never prepared, you don't seem to be paying any attention."
"Oh, Mr. Harrington..." Must be the teacher's name, it wasn't mine. "I don't know, I just can't concentrate. I am really sorry. I'll try to do better."
"I think you need to have more discipline in your study habits, Catherine. I have had students like you before. They mean well but they don't have the self- discipline to focus and do the work. Physics is difficult and you have to stay on top of it. It looks to me as though you don't have the self-discipline, so someone is going to have to discipline you instead."
Oh, what wide eyes! "Yess, .. sir.. I suppose you're right... I do need to have more discipline."
Here it comes, I thought. "Catherine, do you see what is on the coffee table?"
She gulped. "y-yes, sir."
"I am going to teach you a lesson, young lady. I am going to show you that there are consequences for your inattention. And to give you something to think about next time you aren't paying attention and get a grade like you did this last test. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, sir, sorry..."
I pulled a kitchen table chair out into the middle of the living room floor. "Come over here right now, Catharine" I commanded.
She shuffled over, head down, hands still clasped in front of her. I had her stand facing the back of the chair.
"Now Catherine, I know this is going to be embarassing and painful for you, but it has to be so that you will do anything to avoid being back here for more of the same. I want you to lift your skirt up, and take down your panties."
"Oh, Sir!" she said. "No, please, sir, not on the bare -- in front of you! I can't -- it.. it's too embarassing!!"
"Catherine, get you panties down this minute or else I will do it for you, and you will get twice the punishment you were going to get!"
She groaned, turned her back to me. She lifted the plaid skirt from behind with both hands, exposing wonderful white cotton panties, full cut. She put her thumbs inside the waistband on both sides, then hesitated. She turned her head sideways to implore me. "Please sir, don't make me take them down!"
"I am going to count to five and each number I get will mean 10 with the hairbrush after your strapping, Catherine. One, two..."
Mmmm, she let me get to three, then with a groan pushed down her panties to her lower thighs. They bunched there prettily. In doing so her skirt fell back down, and she made no move to pull it back up.
"Lift your skirt and bend over the chair, Catherine!" Meekly, she did so, and stayed there, bend over, holding her skirt high with her hands behind her. What a sight, what a cute, pert bottom, clenching, pushed out behind her.
I went over to her and bent her farther over, told her to hold onto the chair seat. I pushed her skirt up high on her back so it would stay there. I picked up the strap from the coffee table.
"Pleeease, sir, not too hard, pleaase!!" came the muffled entreaty from near the chair seat.
I took aim, snapped the tawse across the fullness of her lower bottom. SWAPP! She sucked in her breath through her teeth, "ahhhh!" on the exhale.
SMACK! SWAP! WHAP! THWIP!
"Ow. OW! No, ple -- OWW! "
I gave her 15. Her bottom was livid red and the strap marks were swelling across her bottom, puffy and angry looking. A few on her upper thighs. She moved on the 12th, causing her to get the last three. She was stamping her feet and howling by then. Tears ran down her face, I saw, as she turned her head to plead with me for no more, and to say she would work harder in the future...
I had her stay in position, holding the seat -- the chair's not her's -- as I set down the tawse and sat on the sofa. I admired the view for a few minutes, scolding her more on how immature she had been behaving and how this was the consequence.
And I told her I wasn't through with her quite yet...
I told her to stand up and come over to the couch. She got up, gingerly, rubbing her punished behind. I told her sternly to stop that and get over to me at once.
She saw the hairbrush in my hand. "No, please, sir, you've punished me enough! No more, oh no more, please!"
"Catherine, you have almost learned your lesson. Your bottom stings and burns but I know, and you do too if you look deep inside yourself, that you haven't learned your lesson completely yet. I am going to make sure you don't have to come back here any time soon. What you just got with the strap might last, oh, a week or two, but you'd be back here pretty soon, I'd guess. Isn't that right?"
She took a moment, hung her head, and nodded. "I guess you're right, Mr. Harrington. Only please, it is going to hurt so much. My father uses the hairbrush on me at home, I know!"
"Obviously not enough, Catherine. When was the last time?" She confessed it had been many years. "Time you got reacquainted. You're going to get a long hard hairbrushing, young lady."
I took her by the elbow and pulled her across my lap. Her upper body rested on the sofa and her knees were on the floor, it was a low couch. Her flaming bottom was bent tightly and stuck out in the most wonderful way behind her.
I raised the brush, and smacked her hard on the lower right buttock. She yelled immediately and put her right hand back in an instinctive attempt to protect herself. I pinned it easily in the small of her back, on top of her raised skirt. Three quick smacks to her upper left thigh and a warning not to try to avoid her punishment again.
I used the brush for a hellish 90 seconds. It awakened all the fires of the strapping, leaving circular red marks all over her bottom. I set the brush down. Catherine was laying limply over my lap, bawling.
"I think you are almost there, Catherine" I said quietly, and rubbed her neck, stroked her hair. I patted her upturned, swollen bottom with my right hand, making her gasp. "I am going to give you a spanking now, with just my hand. I think when it is over you will be a changed young woman. Don't you think?"
"Yess, sir... I know I will... thank you sir..." She was so adorable, I really had died and gone to heaven.
I started spanking her softly. Not that hard but she felt it on her sore bottom, that's for sure. She started squirming on my lap, rubbing her crotch against the corduroy on my right thigh. I started spanking harder, faster. She moved back and forth, twisting, little yips and yelps coming from her mouth, her face turned sideways, so I could see it, resting on the couch.
I spanked harder, now very hard, she was groaning, moaning, moving more frantically on my leg. I held her tight around the waist. Then I moved my left hand to stroke her hair and face. She sucked on one of my fingers...
Suddenly she stiffened and let out a long low moan. She buried her head in her arms on the couch. I spanked her, hard, all the way through her orgasm, then more lightly, then she quieted, and I stopped, and rubbed her bottom, rubbed her thighs... she was dripping wet.
I picked her up, crushed her to me. Her sodden face pillowed into my shoulder. I stroked her thighs with my right hand as she sat on my lap. Then she pushed back, looked at me and grinned, still crying. It was the most emotional moment of my life. We just hugged and squeezed each other for minutes on end.
Then she reached down and unzipped me, freed my straining member. She got down on floor on her knees and tugged off the corduroys, then got right back up on the couch and sat on me, impaling herself, and we fucked slowly, in one way or another, the rest of the night.
the end