Pinch

The husband said:”I’m going to play with Sandra a while.”
“OK, have fun.” His wife was seated on the couch next to me, on my left. I had one arm  around her shoulder  My bourbon was in my other hand in a plastic cup. I took a couple of sips.  The ice was melting fast in the heat of this Jersey apartment.
As the husband ambled off to begin his tryst in the back bedroom, his wife snuggled closer, leaning into me.  The rest of the party continued around us, people clustered in the periphery of the living room.  Waiting it seemed for something to happen, for this “play event” to get playful.  he rooms were a little too brightly lit for my taste, which might have accounted for the slight air of reserve. but I was going with it.  The wife had just spent half an hour straddling a spanking bench near the apartment’s entrance.  I had watched while her husband hit and caned her,  her plaid skirt pulled up to reveal her white panties and flushed red cheeks.  At one point he asked if wanted to take a few hits and I stepped over and methodically spanked her, rubbing the heat into her ass after each swat.  I didn’t want to take over or anything, so after a short while I motioned for him to resume and I stepped back into the crowd to freshen up my drink.
Shortly after that she and I were next to each other on the couch.  She turned her face up to mine and we began to kiss; I bit at her tongue  and she moaned a little.  I reached down to her legs and stroked the skin of her thigh.  Her hair was silky around my face.  She still had the schoolgirl’s outfit on, in keeping with the party’s theme and while our kiss deepened, I gripped her right leg and slung it over my left.  I lightly rubbed the inside of her thigh, and she slid forward slowly, her legs falling apart, the short skirt riding up.  I pulled back a bit from the kiss and gripped the back of her head with my hand: hard, with authority.  Our mouths separated, and her eyes looked quizzically into mine.  I smiled, and slid my hand along her jawline.  Gently I brought my thumb to her lips and traced their line with my nail.  Her eyes widened and then she sucked my thumb into her mouth.   With my other hand  I slapped  at the inside of her thigh.  She jerked a little and then,  closing her eyes and moaning  around my thumb she slid lower in the couch, abandoning her self to the sensation.  I closed my eyes as well and began to work the exposed area of her thigh, alternating between loud, stinging spanks, and drawn out pinches.  I wished I had some clips to run along there.  They were in my bag, in the other room,  but I didn’t want to break the mood: my fingers would have to do and so I ground her flesh between my thumb and forefinger.  Every time I released a pinch I followed it up with with a series of slaps.  Her left leg began to creep over to meet her right trying to get away from the pain.  “Keep them open” I growled, making my point by hitting her square on the crotch.  She gasped a little and then sucked eagerly at my thumb.  I continued to swat her pussy through her panties, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to give her a rhythm to react to.
We were making a certain amount of noise now and as I looked around the room I noticed a number of people with their eyes fixed on the wife, her legs thrown wide, skirt around her waist, lips eagerly slurping at my thumb.  She was putting on a show, which I liked.  Across the room a luscious brunette grinned at me.  I smiled back and began to spank the wife’s thigh harder.  I thought about her being unable to close her legs the next day, or feeling the bruises while her husband fucked her.  I raked my nails lightly across her reddened inner thigh.  The change in sensation made her shudder.  She arched her back and I slapped her pussy again.  She was rising to meet my hits and I switched again; going back to a series of short mean pinches ever closer to her cunt.
It was still early in the evening, and I knew she didn’t want to cum, so I slowed down, my slaps turning into pats, those running together until I was once again stroking and rubbing her leg.  I used my thumb to turn her face towards mine and kissed her nose.  Her eyes opened.  “That was good,” she said, looking down “Just enough, you know, it takes a lot to mark me.”  Little marks from the pinches dotted the bright flush that covered the inside of her thigh.  I took a slug of drink and fed it too her with my tongue.  A short while later she had rearranged herself and we were talking about jobs and finances and submerging ourselves into the bubbling banter of the party.

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