Teaching Carol, Chapter 10

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That weekend there was a salsa band playing in the town square late one afternoon. Carol and I hadn’t planned to meet but I was passing by and had stopped to listen for a moment when I spotted her. She was standing near the front of the crowd that formed a semi-circle around the flatbed truck where the band was playing. Within the semi-circle a lot of people were dancing enthusiastically and I could see Carol was watching them. She was wearing sandals, a pair of baggy red shorts that came almost to her knees, a white t-shirt, and an oversized man’s long-sleeved shirt in pink, worn unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. I walked up behind her and without speaking or stopping propelled her out into the throng of dancers. She turned around immediately and smiled as she recognized me. We put our arms around each other’s waists and began dancing together. One thing that I knew made Carol uncomfortable was public behavior on my part that gave any hint of the nature of our sexual relationship—she loved being humiliated but didn’t want anyone else to know because it would be…humiliating. Go figure. So of course I took any opportunity I could find to do things to her in public, such as the incident at the bus stop shelter a few days back, because first it embarrassed her, then it angered her…and then it aroused her. As we danced I noticed that her shirttail hung down nearly to her thighs, concealing my hands, which were still around her waist. Holding her close with my left arm as we continued to dance, I slipped my right hand down inside the back of her shorts and panties and squeezed her right buttock. She stopped dead still and said “Jonathan!” out loud, almost yelling it in her shock. Fortunately the band was playing extremely loudly and anyone who heard her must have thought she was simply calling to someone. I immediately removed my hand from her shorts and put my arm back around her waist as I urged her to continue dancing. almanbahis After a moment she did, looking up to me and hissing, “Cut it out, Jonathan! Not here!” I gave her an innocent look and said, “What, you mean this?” as I began insinuating my fingers under the elastic waistband of her shorts again. She quickly pushed my arm away from her, her expression becoming thunderous. “Stop it!” she whispered harshly, her eyes boring into mine. I held her gaze and grinned as we continued to dance. “Why? Are you afraid someone will find out that you’re…” I leaned forward and down until my nose was nearly touching hers. “…a nasty little girl?” Her face, already red with anger, suddenly flushed more deeply and she looked down and muttered, “Yes…” I raised my hand, still hidden under the back of her shirt, and gave her a smart slap on the behind. Her gaze jerked up to mine. “Hey!” She tried to pull away but I held her to me with my left arm and continued to move her around to the music as if we were dancing. “That’s for being a nasty little girl.” Before she could reply I gave her another open-handed swat on the behind, harder this time. “OW! Jonathan, what’re you…stop it!” It was perfect—she couldn’t tell that the stinging blows she was receiving were completely hidden from the dancers around us. She must have thought everyone was watching me spank her while we danced. Her lips were compressed with anger and when she spoke it was through clenched teeth: “I said, not here !” I said, “All right then, come on,” and, grabbing her by the arm led her out of the crowd of dancers and onto the sidewalk behind the flatbed truck. She struggled to free herself from my grip as I dragged her along—but not hard enough to draw attention to herself. From the sidewalk I led her into the network of alleys between and behind the buildings there. I didn’t take her far—only taking a couple of turns—and we wound up near the end of a blind alley that was almanbahis yeni giriş almost as close to where the band was as we had been before—except now there were brick buildings all around us. We weren’t completely concealed, of course; anyone walking through the alley connected to the one in which we were standing had only to look in our direction. Which was why I’d chosen it. When we finally stopped in that windowless alley she said nothing, just looked as if she wanted to spit in my face. I turned her around so that her back was to the alley’s entrance—that way she would be unable to tell if anyone was passing by—and the sun was in her face. I stood in front of her, close, then grabbed her wrists and roughly placed her hands around my waist, holding them there until I felt her lace her fingers together and stop struggling. I reached around her and tucked the back of her shirt into the waistband of her shorts so there was nothing to obstruct my approach to her behind. Then I took her chin in one hand and tilted her face up until her eyes met mine. I held her gaze, angry as it was. I loved that she was furious with me but unable to tear her eyes away. And when I raised my hand and gave her a much harder swat on the behind than any of the previous ones it was fascinating to see how her pupils dilated. Aside from a sudden huff of breath as the blow struck her she said nothing. But she was getting angrier, I could tell, and when she tried to remove her arms from around my waist I had to forcefully put them back. Even then she continued to stare into my eyes. Now she knew what she was in for. Or so she thought. I made her stand there like that, arms locked around my waist, gaze fixed on mine, while I delivered nine more slaps to her behind, sometimes left-handed, sometimes right but each one hard enough to echo through the alley. And each one jerking her loins against mine. She must have been determined to stay silent because, almanbahis giriş aside from an inadvertent grunt after each blow—Unh!”—she made no sound. When, after the final blow, I disengaged her hands from behind my back she must have thought that we were done. At least until I pulled the tail of her pink shirt free of her waistband, then lifted the shirt from her shoulders and let it slide off her arms to the ground behind her. Her gaze was furious as I placed her hands on top of her head, then reached down and gently eased the elastic waistband of her shorts down over the curve of her buttocks, then slowly lowered them until I could let them fall around her ankles. She still said nothing, even though I could tell she was dying to. I pulled off her white t-shirt and then lowered her arms just long enough to remove her bra, dropping both items of clothing to the ground beside her before returning her hands to the top of her head—leaving her standing before me wearing only her sandals and panties. Her panties had obviously been inspired by The Little Mermaid —they were ocean blue with bright yellow trim and decorated with Ariel and her friends in full color and were extremely cute. I walked around her a few times admiring them, much to her embarrassment—which only increased, I’m sure, when I suddenly knelt in front of her and addressed her there with my lips and tongue. She gasped—“Ahh!”—as I worked my tongue between her legs, but she kept her hands on top of her head…although I did glance up more than once to catch her looking anxiously over her shoulder. When the crotch of her panties was good and wet from our combined juices and she was standing with her head back, panting with her tongue out, I stopped what I was doing and stood. Her eyes, which had been closed, flew open as I put my hands on her waist and pulled her against me. And when I gave her a sudden open-handed swat on her already tender behind, now protected only by the thin fabric of her panties, she cried out before she could stop herself. I made her kiss me with her tongue in my mouth and mine in hers while I gave her nine more, pausing occasionally to caress her behind while I pressed her against me.

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