WARNING: You must be at least 18 years of age to read this story. The following story may describe consensual or non-consensual spanking or other BDSM activity involving one or more adult women and/or teenaged girls. The story may also describe consensual or non-consensual sexual activity between adults, between minor persons, or between minors and adults, and will be clearly tagged as appropriate. Please observe the tags to determine whether or not you want to read the story. Do not read the story if the tags indicate subject matter that you will find offensive. DISCLAIMER: This is a work of FICTION. The characters in this story are the product of the author's imagination, and do not represent any actual person, living or dead. Any similarities to actual persons are purely coincidental. The author does not necessarily condone, encourage or participate in the types of activities described within this story. Please be aware of the difference between fantasy and reality when reading this work of FICTION. COPYRIGHT & PERMISSION: This story is Copyright 2002 by T-Luv. This story may not be reproduced elsewhere without permission of the author. All permitted reproductions must include the unaltered WARNING, DISCLAIMER and COPYRIGHT & PERMISSION notices.
(For the uninitiated, the "Red Bull" drink mentioned in the story is a potent "energy drink", packed with caffeine, guarana, taurine, large amounts of B-Vitamins, etc. Very tart, the flavor alone is enough to wake you up. It wakes you up, and keeps you awake.) Serendipitous A short one by T-Luv (M/f [though maybe F/m? Hmmm...], spanking, consensual, Light) "Dudes! You are not going to believe what happened to me last night!" Seth pushed his shaggy hair back out of his face and plugged one end of his cable into his bass and the other end into his amp. He was the last to arrive at rehearsal. Jason was in the corner trying to tune his guitar, which was always hard to do when Marc wouldn't quit banging on his drums for more than ten seconds at a time. Caleb, the singer, having no instrument to set up, was nursing a bottle of imported beer in another corner. "Like, what, dude? Get in a fight at the bar?" Marc knew good and well that Seth had never been in a fight in his life. "I wish I was twenty-one already," Jason added. "No, dudes! I went to the Spectrum last night. I got tired of the same old shit on the jukeboxes in every bar in town. You know, all that fuckin' ancient '70s shit," Seth said. "So I thought, like, I'd cruise out to the underage club and chill there, and listen to some good music that isn't a fuckin' hundred years old!" "Yeah, and you can check out the jailbait, too!" Caleb, also twenty-one like Seth, was a natural-born smartass. "Bite me, Caleb," Seth shot back, "You'd do the same thing!" "Okay, okay, don't bite my fuckin' head off..." Caleb grumbled. "Dude, you gonna let me tell you what happened?" "Yeah, shut up, dickcheese!" Marc threw a poorly-aimed drumstick in the singer's direction, succeeding only in knocking Caleb's beer over, spilling it and prompting a string of curses from Caleb. "ANYway," Seth said, loudly, "Shut up, dudes. You're not gonna believe this!" Deciding he finally had his bandmates attention, Seth began to relate the previous night's events. "Okay, so I get to the Spectrum..." "The RECtum!" Caleb said." "Quit jerking off and pay attention, shit-for-brains!" Seth was growing impatient with his friends. "Okay, so I get to the Spectrum about ten and, like, the house is rockin'. Of course, nothin' but fifteen-year-olds everywhere you look." "You'd nail one if you had the chance!" Jason chimed in. "Duh! No shit, dude, if I wanted to sit my ass in jail! Now shut up!" "All right, already!" "So the music's good, and I'm just kickin' it, chuggin' Red Bull, cuz there ain't no beer there. I've got a pretty good buzz goin' off the Red Bull. Don't feel like dancing, so I'm just watchin'. Anyway, like I said, the music's cool, the hotties are everywhere, but I gotta just look, don't touch, if ya know what I mean. So after a couple hours, I'm gettin' bored. About midnight, I'm ready to make like a baby and head out. But then this chick walks in... ********** She was the most amazingly beautiful thing Seth had ever seen. About five-foot-two, small tits, long legs, short red hair. An open, black leather jacket that exposed a lacy black bra and flat, bare tummy. A ridiculously short, tight, black miniskirt, black, thigh-high stockings and spike heeled boots. One ring in her nose, one in an eyebrow, too many to count in her ears and no doubt a stud through her tongue. Her makeup was elaborate but tasteful, and somehow the leather collar around her neck didn't look out of place. She made her way directly to the drink counter, cutting straight across the crowded dance floor, unconcerned with the indignant looks from the frenzied dancers who were stumbling to move out of her way. Seth watched her order and receive two cans of Red Bull, and immediately drain both cans in mere seconds. He watched her turn and survey the room before making her way to the exact center of the dance floor. Some unknown force impelled everyone on the floor to give her space. Spellbound, Seth watched her dance alone. It was as if nobody dared approach her, or challenge her claim to the largest territory on the crowded dance floor. She spoke to no one, didn't give anyone more than a cursory glance as she gyrated in time with the throbbing beat blasting from the gargantuan speakers that encircled the dance floor. There was something raw and primal about the way she seemed to become one with the music. Lights sparkled and flashed, striking colored flames that flared briefly and then died on her reflective silver jewelry and studs. Her jacket offered tantalizing glimpses of black lace and pale flesh. And she danced with herself, seemingly unaware of anything but herself and the music. She was high, but Seth could tell it was not a drug that drove her, but the very essence of her being that was cut with the music and inhaled through her ears to fuel her beyond the normal plane of consciousness commonly found in a place like this. She whirled and leaped, a dervish and a ballerina, combining animal savagery with grace and artistry. Beauty and the beast in spandex and leather. Sweat matting and darkening her hair and a flush reddening her cheeks, neck and upper chest and contrasting sharply with the porcelain of her flexing belly. Taut, hard muscles mixed with soft, smooth skin. Her diminutive frame was larger than life, incongruously but naturally overshadowing everything else. Aware of a cool wetness on his hand, Seth discovered the fingers of his right hand clenched tightly, crushing the thin aluminum can in his hand and forcing the remaining Red Bull out of the can to spill across his skin and onto the table. He relaxed his grip and looked up, astonished to find her standing in front of him. Her bright green eyes burned into his for a brief eternity, and then, without a word she turned and walked away. As if hypnotized and compelled by a Siren, Seth stood and, forgetting his jacket at the table followed her out of the club. Though they had never met, she led him unerringly to his own car, parked in a darkened corner of the lot. She stood next to the driver-side door, and waited, her eyes compelling Seth to quickly unlock the door. He held it open and she purposefully flipped the driver's seat forward and gracefully climbed into the back seat, bending at the waist and causing her skirt to ride up and widen the gap between the hem and her stockings. As if under command, Seth followed, pulling the car door closed behind him. Before he could speak (had he been able to speak), her lips were on his. Her tongue plunged deep, probing, prodding his own inert tongue into wakefulness. Their tongues wrestled as if there was some coveted prize awaiting the winner of the contest. His hand offered no resistance when she took it and guided it to her breasts. As he released the clasp his fingers found between her small, hard breasts, he felt her hand move to his crotch and felt himself responding to her manual command. His member was gratefully freed from its denim prison, escaping into the getaway car that was her hand. Their tongues tirelessly pushed and twisted, dancing to a rhythm only the two of them could feel. Seth wasn't even aware of when her mouth left his. He gradually realized that she was now much lower, kneeling on the floorboard, her petite body hardly cramped in the narrow space behind the front seat. Hot and wet, her mouth worshipped his cock, which was harder and more prominent than he remembered. Yet the small mouth effortlessly accepted it, and the mysterious girl's nose was tickled by his patch of curly hair. Still graceful even in her awkward position, her green eyes seemed glow as they never left his face. Seth could not look away. He lost track of the time, and had no idea how long she was down there. He was aware only of the pleasure, and then her lips were on his again for a moment before they were at his ear. Her tongue flicked into his ear briefly and he heard her whisper, "It's my birthday." Her voice was husky, deep and breathy, belying her tiny size. Then she was face-down across his thighs, offering her skirt-covered bottom up to him. "Spank me." Not knowing why, and never having done anything like it before, he spanked her. He was under command, compelled, with no question or even option of refusing. Up and down his hand went, smacking sharply against the thin, tightly-stretched fabric of her skirt, feeling the firm, soft bottom hidden beneath that seemed to arch up to meet the downstroke of his hand. He knew somehow that it was her eighteenth birthday, but he spanked her far beyond eighteen. At some point he had tugged her skirt up to find her bare and natural beneath. And still he spanked, unconsciously maintaining a pace that coincided with the tempo of the song she had danced to. On and on and on, far beyond any count that he would have seen as reasonable had he truly been in control of actions. But all he could do was spank and spank and spank, watching her small, pale, round bottom growing redder and redder and redder under his hand. Seth's hand drifted between her legs of its own volition, finding her sex burning hot and incredibly wet. And then she was straddling him, impaled upon his manhood. She rode him the same way she had danced, with every last iota of her energy and her soul driving her up and down, up and down. Her astounding tightness enveloped Seth, forcing his cock to grow harder and stronger. With every descent she took him fully into herself. She pushed her breasts into his face, offering the erect nipples, demanding that he pleasure her there, as she was pleasuring herself below. Seth knew, even as he nibbled and suckled at her untouched breasts that it was all for her. She was giving herself a birthday present, giving herself this experience with him. Seth knew that he had been commanded. She was his queen. He could not object, would not, even if he had been able. It was pleasurable for him, more so than anything he had ever experienced in his relatively young life. And yet it was only her pleasure that mattered. He wanted nothing but to please her. He exploded deep inside of her, just as her climax caused her already tight pussy to clench him even tighter, squeezing him, wringing every last bit out of him, leaving him completely drained even as her scream of ecstasy filled his ears and his being. When Seth opened his eyes, she was gone. He fastened his jeans and desperately scanned the now empty parking lot. But he knew he wouldn't see her. Had she even been real? Her face, her body, burned in his memory, unforgettable. He knew she had been there, that it had all really happened. And yet... ********** "...no idea who she was!" There was a moment of silence, three pairs of eyes staring at Seth. Incredulous. "Dude," Caleb said, breaking the silence, "you are SO full of shit!" "No doubt," Jason added, laughing. "I'll bet what really happened is you went to the bar and passed out drunk in your car!" "Whatever," Marc said, clobbering his drums in a brief solo that ended with a raucous crash of cymbals. "C'mon, let's jam!" The rehearsal was like any other, and none of the other three young men noticed the new flavor in Seth's bass playing. Something subtle; a touch of barely restrained animal energy tempered with just a hint of classical gracefulness. -end-
Review This Story || Email Author: T-Luv