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A Firm Hand

By Amelia Chambers

Copyright ©2024

I emerged from the bathroom in my boy-shorts and tank top, teeth freshly brushed, to see Tristan sitting on the edge of the bed, the drawer to his nightstand opened.

It was a silent signal of what he needed. Some evenings, if I wasn’t in the mood, I’d see the nightstand open and just go to my side of the bed, embarking on sleep as usual. But tonight, I was ready to give him what he wanted. Hell, I wanted it too. 

It had been a rough day for both of us; the stress of our overly intellectualized jobs weighing on us more than usual. Dinner was practically silent and the hour after was spent on separate screens. I needed this connection with him, but more than that, I needed the release of this ritual as much as he did. 

I strode over to his side of the bed and stood in front of him. His beautifully tanned face looked up at me with a half-smile that told me that he was ready to play. Chocolate brown eyes raked over my body, imploring me to begin. So I did.

Peeling off my top, I exposed my heavy breasts, nipples already hard in anticipation of what would happen. Locking eyes with him, I shimmied out of my panties and stood in front of him completely bare. Slowly, I began to trace the contours of my body, my fingers lingered in the places I knew he liked. They moved over the  jut of my hips, the underside of my breasts, lightly dancing down to my pussy. I spread my legs to open my lips fully for him, so that he could see me follow the lines of my labia before focusing on my clit.

“I’ve been thinking about Joel while I masturbate,” I said as I rubbed the rapidly swelling bud in easy circles. 

“The barista?” He asked, eyes fixed on the movement of my hands. 

“Yes, the one with the long dreads ,” I confirmed.

Tristan lets out a sigh through his nose. “And?” He prompted.

“I like to imagine that I go to the coffee shop early; before anyone else. That it’s just me and Joel. He tells me how beautiful I look and we start to flirt. He asks me if I want to help make my cappuccino, so I go around the counter to work the espresso. He comes up behind me and begins to kiss my neck and cup my breasts.”

My fingers moved faster, my breathing quickening. I saw Tristan’s cock straining against the constraint of his sweatpants, so I continued. 

“Then his hands are running under my shirt and into leggings, rubbing me, just like I’m rubbing myself. He goes until I come, then pulls my leggings down and fucks me from behind. He ruins me, Tristan. His cock is massive and I can barely breathe he’s so deep.”

I was close, so I closed my eyes and let myself remember the fantasy with greater clarity. 

“He barely fits, but I don’t care. I’m so wet for him that we make it work. People are walking by the shop. They don’t stop us. Joel just keeps fucking me hard behind the counter. I’m screaming his name as he finishes inside me. Joel. Joel. Joel.”

With the last utterance of my crush’s name, I found my own release. As the last wave of my orgasm passed, I opened my eyes. Tristan’s gaze was locked on mine, his jaw set in a hard line. 

“You’re such a fucking slut,” he said. 

I knew what would comes next. I walked over to the bed and laid across his lap. My ass was exposed over his knee. His large hands skimmed the soft skin. I knew he could feel the wet drip of me pressed into the side of his leg, but he didn’t acknowledge it. He just lightly brushed his fingers over me. Then his once-gentle hand came down hard. I anticipated the hit, yet I still took in a sharp breath at his spank.  

“I am,” I replied. The admission was exquisitely freeing. “I want to get fucked by so many men.”

A lighting crack of another spank, harder this time, rang out. The sting lingered.

“But you can’t, can you?” He asked.

“No, I can only have you,” I answered.

Another spank. I moaned this time as the pain throbbed on my ass and echoed in my clit. I began to push myself into Tristan’s leg, hungry for more. 

“You know I’ll have to punish you for this,” Tristan told me.

“I know. I’m so sorry, baby.” I apologized.

“What are you sorry for?” He asked before landing a slap so hard I gasped.

“I’m sorry I touch myself without you,” I answered. 

Another spank. I moaned, wanting another. 

“I’m sorry I want another cock,” I continued.

“You need it, don’t you?” He asked as his hand made hard, glorious contact again. 

“Yes, I do. Please baby, give it to me.”

My plea sent his hand into the nightstand drawer. He pulled out a huge, lifelike dildo. He held it in front of me and asked, “Is this what Joel looked like?”

“Bigger,” I replied. 

“You’ll have to manage,” he said as he ran the tip of the dildo between my ass cheeks. 

“I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” I told him as I pulled my knees up so that he could find my entrance. He did, wet and hot for him, and he slid the thick dildo in slowly. I moaned, deep and guttural, at the intense pressure of it.

“Jesus, you love this, don’t you?” He asked as he slowly moved the toy in me.

“I do,” I gasped as he picked up pace.


“Because I’m such a slut,” I answered with another moan.

“But you’re my slut,” he told me as his free hand found my clit and began to circle me.

“Yes,” I breathlessly replied. “I’m yours.”

“Then I’m going to take what’s mine,” he said.

“Please,” was all I could say.

“Not yet,” he said as he continued to pump the massive toy into me and serviced my clit. “Not until you take all this dick. I know you wish it was Joel’s cock.”

“I do,” I admit as the dildo pumps into me harder and harder.

“Too bad. You’re gonna say my name when you come.”

The pressure in me mounted and collided with the ache of my clit before it snapped. I came hard, following orders and screaming Tristan’s name. 

I laid panting with my head on the bed and ass in the air. I felt the huge toy being gingerly pulled from me. Then Tristan’s legs moved out from under me and I heard his voice behind me saying, “Alright, now it’s my turn,” before I was filled again. 

About Amelia Chambers:

Amelia Chambers writes sensuous, character-driven stories from the Pacific Northwest.

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