She was so beautiful. The moonlight was caressing her pale cheek and glistening off her soft blonde hair that was tucked behind her ear. I loved to watch her sleep. I traced my fingers down her cheek, gently. How did I end up with such a beautiful girl?
I'd be lying if I said that the first thing I noticed about her was her sharp intelligence or gentle sense of humor. I am a bit embarrassed to admit that the first thing I noticed about her was her shapely ass. I am also ashamed to admit that I thought Lily would be nothing more than a quick lay or a rebound relationship.
We met at a gay club in the city called Sparky's. Most of Sparky's clientèle were young gay men who just came out of the closet, "bears," or leather-types. Every Thursday is lesbian night, and most of the attendees on lesbian night were college-aged bi girls looking to experiment with any willing partner. I had ended a relationship the weekend before, and a couple of my friends had dragged me out because I was eating too much Haagen Daas and watching Desert Hearts over and over. It took nearly all of my strength to put on something halfway decent and to leave my apartment.
I don't regret it. I believe that it was the best decision of my life, besides getting my MSW. I spent the first half hour or so pouting and wishing that I had been at home on my couch. I was on my second drink when I noticed Lily. She was out on the dance floor, slow dancing with some woman. I don't remember what she looks like because I was fairly intently focused on Lily's ass. Lily has a nice body. I have no complaints. Her ass, however, is spectacular.
I think it was my first lesbian relationship back in high school that gave me a taste for beautiful asses. While my friends were kissing and having fumbling sex with boys, I was learning to spank my girlfriend to orgasm after orgasm. She awakened my dominant desires the first time she meekly asked for a spanking. My parents were out and we were making out in front of the television. After a particularly long kiss, she looked up at me with her large brown eyes. Her face was red, and she looked nervous.
"Julia?"
"Katie?"
"I need to ask you something. Please don't think I'm a freak."
"I don't think you're a freak."
"Will you-," she said, stumbling a bit on her words, "sp-, spank me?"
At first, I wasn't sure if I had heard her right, but my body did. I tingled just hearing the word "spank." At that moment, I remembered savoring the spanking scenes that I had read in some books and how I had obsessively looked up the word "spank" in the dictionary, just for a little thrill. Of course, when I was twelve, I had no idea what any of that meant. My parents had been fairly strict, and I got my share of spankings for naughty behavior. However, there was something different about my first girlfriend's request and my innocent early interests in dominance. As my childhood spankings caused disconnection and a relationship mostly based on fear with my parents, spanking my girlfriend brought us closer together.
I eagerly agreed to her request, and the look of relief that came over her face was priceless. She lay trustingly across my lap, and I rubbed her back and bottom until she was settled. I was a bit nervous. I loved her, and I only wanted to cause her the type of pain that would give her pleasure. I started out with pats, and I got little response. After a few moments, I increased the force. My palm thumped against the seat of her jeans. She was another one with a nice ass. Not as nice as Lily's. She did have a lovely curve, which I tried to accentuate by lifting my right knee a bit. Her bottom was raised at an easier angle, but I wasn't sure how long I would be able to hold my right knee up. She seemed to understand what I was doing because she arched her back to help me. After spanking her over her jeans, I had an urge to pull them down and spank her over her panties. I kept at spanking her over her jeans because I wasn't sure if I should ask.
"Julia?"
"Yes?" I said, nervously.
"Can I do something?"
"Sure," I said, and she lifted her hips and unbuttoned her jeans. I eagerly helped her push them down to her knees. I smiled when I saw her panties. We had spend most of our time groping at each other in the dark, so I had never really had a good look at them. She had a penchant for little girl panties. The pair she was wearing that day had small drawings of Winnie-the-Pooh characters all over them. I gave her bottom a playful squeeze and started spanking her again. She began to squirm under my striking hand, and although I was nervous, I kept at it. I prayed that she would tell me if it was too much for her. I was worried that I would have no other way to tell.
She moaned and gasped a bit, writhing over my lap. I adored her squirming. Without thinking, I slipped my fingers under the elastic of her panties and pushed them down over her hips. She lifted her hips a bit to help me. I rubbed her bottom, which was now glowing pink, and started sending hard, solid smacks all over her bottom. She began to grind into my thigh, groaning and gasping. She begged me to spank her harder, and I obliged. As her bottom turned crimson under my hand, she moaned loudly. I had no idea that she climaxed until she suddenly went limp across my lap.
"Okay?" I said, panicking a bit.
"Oh, yeah," she said, rolling over onto her back as she still lay across my lap. She put my hand between her legs, and she was drenched. I put my face between her legs and licked her sweet juices. She moaned loudly and squirmed when my tongue caressed her clit. With a few flicks of my tongue, she had another, milder orgasm.
These spanking sessions, followed by massive amounts of oral sex, became as regular as my parents' dinner and movie nights. In fact, while my parents were eating their standard meat-and-potatoes meal, followed by their standard, non-offensive Hollywood flick, I was at home, spanking my girlfriend to orgasm after orgasm. They had no idea what I was up to. They only knew that I was always in an excellent mood on Sunday mornings.
I think that was when I really started noticing asses. I would innocuously assess the need and spankability of each girl in my school. My girlfriend and I made a game of it. After a few drinks and some personal lamenting at the bar, I started to assess the spankability of Lily's perfect ass. My recent breakup was nearly forgotten for a moment.
I stayed in the same spot at the bar, keeping my eye on Lily for most of the night. She looked right at me once or twice, but I couldn't be sure if she actually was looking right at me. Perhaps the alcohol was clouding my perception. In the haze of the alcohol, I had quite a fantasy about taking that blonde pixie-elf across my lap and spanking her bottom to a nice shade of red right at the bar. My friends had been right; watching that pixie-elf flirt and wiggle around the dance floor was worth skipping the Haagen Daas for the night.
I knew I was plastered when I saw Lily get off the dance floor and walk toward me. I looked at my beer bottle just to ensure its lack of hallucinogenic drugs.
"Since you've been watching me all night, I thought I should at least ask your name," the pixie-elf said. She had to have been a mirage because I had never heard a voice so sweet, innocent, and unassuming in all my life. I poked her.
"You can't be real," I said, slurring my words slightly.
"Oh, I assure you that I'm quite real. I have bills with my name on them to prove it," she said. "I'm Lily." She offered her hand, and I shook it clumsily.
"I'm drunk," I said.
"You know, I never would have noticed," she said, in a teasing, smart aleck voice that made me want to spank her all the more. "What's your name?"
"Julia," I said, but I think it came out sounding like "Julio" (where the J is pronounced as an H.) I don't know how she understood what I was saying.
"Julia," she said. "That's a pretty name."
"Lily's a flower," I said, stupidly.
"Yes, indeed," she said.
"You've got a great ass," I said. Damn alcohol.
"Thank you," she said, shyly. Thankfully, she didn't throw a drink in my face. I think luck was on my side. She didn't even have a drink... until I bought her one.
Under the influence of alcohol, I invited her back to my apartment. I truly needed to feel the touch of a woman that night. She assented, even though I had said,
"Wanna come back to my apartment and get laid?"
So it wasn't the proudest moment of my life, but it was a shining moment for Lily because she had yet to throw a drink in my face. If she were going to throw a drink in my face at all, it would have been at that moment. She admitted to me after we started dating exclusively that she was only looking to get laid that night, also. For a long time, she felt that she had taken advantage of me while I was drunk.
By the time we had reached my apartment, the haze of alcohol began to clear and my inhibitions were back in place. I think if I had still been drunk, we would have gotten into spanking that night, rather than a month after we started dating exclusively. I did tentatively give her a few slaps on the sides of her thighs while I was giving her oral sex, and she seemed to enjoy it very much.
The next morning, when I woke up with the pixie-elf in my bed, I cried. I was convinced that I was this horrible womanizer, and all of the mean things my ex-girlfriend said about me were true. Her reaction to my tears and my worries were the real reason why I ended up in a committed relationship with her. She held me while I spilled the entire story about my recent break-up, all the drinking I had done, how I stared lustfully at her all night, and how I was only looking for a one-night stand, and I should have told her that to begin with. All she said was,
"So you're human. I'm not going to hold that against you."
And then she made me breakfast.
We talked about where to take it from that morning, and I had no idea what I wanted. I felt I couldn't ask her to stay with me during my ice cream and angst lesbian film binge. I didn't want her to leave, either. Her presence was comforting. I also didn't want to pull the corny, "let's be friends" line that hardly ever worked after a night of sex.
She somehow sensed this struggle and invited me to the art museum with her for the afternoon. The museum trip turned to dinner turned to a movie turned to another night in my bed. After a calm day and a night of non-substance induced sex, I knew what I wanted. I wanted the pixie-elf, for the rest of our lives. It may sound strange, but it is only as strange as all those old married couples who claim that they knew their significant other was the right person for them the moment they met. Granted, it took me two hot monkey love sessions and two fabulous, nearly gourmet breakfasts to come to this realization. I also knew I couldn't tell her right away, even though I sensed she was feeling as I was.
We chose at the moment, to date casually. Of course, after about a week, we both decided to drop all the bullshit and just date exclusively. We talked about it for a long time, and we knew that was where our relationship was headed, anyway. A month later, we were looking at apartments together. Our friends teased us and called us "U-Haul Lesbians." Some of my friends thought that Lily was my rebound relationship, but after five years and one baby, we had proven that our relationship was for keeps.
I brushed a blonde curl behind my pixie-elf's ear, and her eyes fluttered open.
"What's wrong?" she said.
"Nothing," I said. "I was just thinking about how we met."
"Part of me wishes you had spanked me in the middle of the bar the night you met me," she said, with a tired smile.
I tickled her a bit. "If we could call the babysitter for Friday night and I could take you back to that bar," I teased.
"Or maybe you could just spank me on Friday night," she said, snuggling against me.
"Or maybe I could just spank you right now," I said, patting her round bottom.