Smita’s Smitten Boy-Bitch


“How do you like my wife’s cunt, boy?” Patrick growled in Ben’s ear, giving his left buttock a fifth spank. His hips thrust forward, with nowhere for the shockwave to go other than into Smita since Ben’s cock was still buried in her pussy, being milked of the last drops of his young seed.“Answer!” SMACK! “Did you enjoy fucking my wife?”To Ben’s great credit, his first thought was of the older woman beneath him rather than of himself — and not just of the jiggle of her brown breasts with each impact. When he looked at her, though, he met an expression not of fear but of amusement. She mouthed a word at him, and when he just seemed confused, she rolled her eyes and did it again. This time he caught it. “Rincewind.”Of course! he realised, as adrenaline chased away his post-climax mind-fog, bringing back the memory of the conversation in the car on the way to her house. She told me not to be like Rincewind the cowardly wizard and run away. “Trust me,” she had told him. Wait, did she know Patrick was here?“Yes!” he squeaked finally. Then instincts from high school kicked in, and he added, “Sir,” just as another slap landed on his right arse cheek.The bed shifted as a weight greater than either Smita or himself got on behind him. A clothed shin pressed into his calf, pinning it to the mattress, and the cotton of a shirt brushed his back as her husband pulled him up further, his scalp burning, and he got his first look at him in the flesh. An angry slab of gammon with glasses was his first uncharitable impression of the pink-faced, jowly man glaring at him. The stench of cigarette smoke was stronger on him than his wife, and unless there was a drastic difference in age, he had reached his fifties in far less graceful fashion than she had.“‘Sir’, is it? So polite, now that you’ve sullied her pussy with your sperm. Always the same with the desperate boys that she brings home — you’re in too much of a hurry to get yourselves off, you forget to use a condom.”He then addressed his wife.“Afternoon, love. Did you have a good week?” It was like he flicked a switch to enter loving-husband mode when he spoke to Smita — as if finding her in bed with other men was an everyday occurrence.“Oh, you know, the usual. You’re home early.”“Conference got cut short. It was either see the sights of Swindon or come home.”Absurdly in light of his predicament, Ben found himself enjoying güvenilir bahis the slight Midlands’ lilt to his gravelly voice — not full Brummie, but still with the musicality of that accent. SMACK! He was brought back to reality, but something inside him was still stopping him from trying to break free.“Have you told this one the rules?” Patrick asked, waggling Ben’s head by his handful of hair.“Not yet. Ben, would you like to play a little game?”“W-what sort of game?” Ben’s internet habits were far too vanilla to guess, although at least his earlier guilt started to evaporate as he began to realise the extent that they must have planned this scenario together.“A fun one. For adults. I know you’ll enjoy it.”“Um, okay?”“You started well by calling Patrick ‘Sir’ — only address him like that. And don’t call me ‘Smita’ when we’re playing, or even ‘Professor Wilkins’. From now on, I want you to call me ‘Miss’. Just like you would have done with a teacher at school. Is that understood?”“Yes.” Her husband gave his arse another slap. “I mean, yes, Miss.”“Better. Now, if you ever want the game to stop, just say ‘Rincewind’, and we’ll stop playing, understand?”“Yes, Miss.”“It’s more fun without stopping, though. Like I said in the car, you might find things out about yourself that you never knew.”“Right, Miss.” He waited, expecting further instructions. When none came, he asked, “Um, Miss? Do I need to know anything else about the game?”“Only that you must do everything we say. Everything.” She gave him a stern look that reminded him more of high school than University, but he nodded anyway.“Oh, I mean, yes, Miss,” he added hastily when her eyebrows went up.“Good!” She beamed. “Patrick, you may continue.”“With pleasure. I’m not even going to use your name, boy. You’ll just be ‘boy’ in this house, understand?”“Yes, Sir.”“First, apologise to my wife,” he said, pushing Ben’s head towards Smita. She was smirking up at him triumphantly as if she knew he would keep playing all along.“S-sorry,” Ben stuttered, hoping that would be enough. SMACK! Apparently not.“Sorry for what, boy?” Good question — surely I did what she asked?“Sorry for cumming inside you, Miss,” he tried. Nothing he had ever watched online had prepared him for this situation; he felt like he was in free fall, but something prevented him from pulling his parachute cord.“Is that it? You treat my güvenilir bahis siteleri wife like a piece of cuntmeat, and all you apologise for is cumming inside her?” Patrick turned to his wife. “What do you think, Smita? You’re his tutor; what is an appropriate punishment for seducing your professor and screwing her in her marital bed?”“Ooh, well, when you put it like that, love, he is very naughty!” The severity of her tone was only slightly undermined by the way she was playing with her dark nipples as she said it. “I think you started as we should continue — with a good spanking. God knows I’ve wanted to give one to some of my students over the years!”“What do you say, boy? Do you deserve a spanking?”Ben stared open-mouthed at the older couple. Previous conversations with Smita flashed through his head — those little murmured confessions of desire and hidden fantasies she had elicited from him in quiet moments in class, making him feel so daring to whisper them while classmates were bent over their books, even though they were always ostensibly connected to whatever text they were studying. Spanking had never come up in those conversations, but maybe Smita had read something in him he didn’t know about himself. He rubbed his already sore backside. Those initial smacks had hurt once the shock had passed, but there had been a bit of a rush too.Maybe I should give it a try.“How much of a spank?” he asked nervously.“Oh, I think ten would be a good start,” Smita said.“On each side,” Patrick added, grinning maliciously.“From each of us,” Smita continued, trying to keep her severe teacher-face on. Ben swallowed, then nodded and shuffled back as Patrick released his leg, his dick sliding out to trail spunk over the sheets. “I think you have made rather a mess,” she added, pointing at the gloop dangling from his crotch and then dipping two fingers into her cunt and withdrawing them to look at the gooey strands of bodily fluids that had adhered to them. “I can feel more leaking out. Be a good boy and lick it up for me, would you?”Ben could only gape. Cream pies always looked hot in porn when horny and alone in his room, but post-orgasm with a softening cock and spanked arse, licking up one he had created was much less appealing. He contemplated her tangled bush glistening with his saliva, her pussy juice and his precum, wondering where or if he iddaa siteleri should start. In the centre, below her still swollen clit, gelatinous lumps of semen quivered on the dark brown folds of her labia, still parted from their recently departed visitor as if waiting to embrace its return into their deep pink depths. A trickle of off-white gloop left the bottom of the opening and ran down between her buttocks. While he watched, gathering his courage, she clenched, and the inside flared, pushing out a miniature slow-motion cream mudslide that oozed over her dark star down to the bed.SMACK! Hesitancy interrupted. Shit! I forgot about the spanks already!“That one doesn’t count, by the way,” Patrick told him, then pushed his head down between his wife’s legs. “Look at the mess you’ve made of my wife’s pussy, boy. I don’t get to fuck many other pussies like she gets to fuck other cocks, so clean it up!”Ben extended his tongue and inhaled. Bad idea — that filled his nostrils not just with her musk but with the sickly sweet smell of his own spunk. He gagged and almost used his safeword. Almost. But once again, something stopped him. Then the first of his allotted strikes landed on target, making him yelp.“One!” Patrick announced. “Get licking — I’m starting again if I can see any of your jizz on her when my turn’s over.”Wincing as the next spank hit his right buttock, yet determined to impress Smita, he started licking her thighs, tasting her skin, the salt of their combined sweat obscuring any hint of precum smeared there. He switched to the other side and worked inwards as soon as spank number three landed. Stickiness rubbed off on his cheeks, but he ignored it. More flavours mingled with the salt the closer he got to her slit. Spank four helped overcome his reluctance at sucking the first glob of congealed spunk from her hairs.By the time the count had reached seven, he was licking her clit again, pushing past his revulsion at tasting his own ejaculate with the help of her first moan. Patrick shoved his face down when she did, and his tongue slipped inside. Viscous semen coated it as he lapped and sucked at her, barely noticing the following two smacks. Smita bucked, grinding into his face, and her husband, reading the signs, paused his spanking to push him down harder, their combined cum plastering his chin. When she came again, a flood of liquid squirted out, flushing out more coagulating clumps of his earlier climax with it.“Good boy,” Smita gasped. “Maybe we should hire you as a maid.”“So far, he’s just made more mess,” Patrick said and, with an extra hard SMACK, resumed the punishment.

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