Short Erotic Fiction: The Best Ideas

Moms do weird things.

Like eat that Snickers bar in the bathroom, so you don’t have to share it.

You do what you need to do. Everyone has needs.

I just happen to need a spanking.

So what do you do? I can’t very well just lock myself in the bathroom with a wooden spoon. That sound carries.

I don’t want to answer those questions from the children. … Today. When they’re older, maybe they’ll understand. But not today, with their grimy little fingers and poster paint and sticky Legos.

But I could feel the need for a spanking like an ember deep in my belly. I ached for it. It was nearly all I could think about — being bent over, forced to take it. Wiping my mind clean of all the pesky, annoying thoughts that have accumulated there.

Letting the pain overwhelm my senses.

I licked my lips, taking a sip of my coffee while leaning against the kitchen counter. From the other room, the children’s shrieks echoed over the drone of cartoon programming. My husband’s bass voice anchored the noise.

I loved my husband, but he wasn’t into anything kinky. That was okay, really. We still had good sex, even if there wasn’t whips and chains involved.

I shivered. I needed that spanking.

But how?

I tried to think of a place that was private. Certainly not anywhere in the house. The car, maybe, but I didn’t want to explain to a nice police officer what I was doing, either.

Then I thought of my office, empty and dark, because it was a Saturday.

The thought grew bones in my mind.

It wasn’t far. I had a key.

The excuse to leave practically invented itself.

I opened the drawer and looked at the wooden spoons. Breathing hard, I picked up the biggest, heaviest one and slipped it into my purse, before anyone could notice.

I felt giddy, tingly, as I walked into the den where the children and my husband were watching TV. “Hey, I just got a call from my boss. I need to go into the office for about an hour to finish something up. I’ll pick up pizza on my way home, okay?”

“Yay, pizza!” the littlest one yelled.

“Yeah, no problem, babe,” my husband said. He ruffled the oldest’s hair. “We’ll be okay here, won’t we?”

“I need juice!” the middle child whined.

“I want juice, too!” the little one chimed in.

My husband unfolded himself from the couch, grabbing their empty cups. He kissed me. “Go do what you need to do. I love you.”

His lips were warm and comforting, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I love you, too. You’re a good husband.”

The oldest jumped onto his back, and the two smaller ones grabbed onto his legs. He made Godzilla noises, dragging all three children into the kitchen as they giggled gleefully.

“Bye!” I said, laughing.

My fingers shook as I unlocked the door to the office. The space was dark and quiet, and I reveled in it, letting the silence sink into my bones. Muscle memory brought me to my desk, and I drank in the calm.

I closed my eyes, a fantasy blossoming in my mind.

Being bent over my desk. Hands on my ass.

I took the big spoon out of my purse, and bent over to rest my elbows on my desk. My breath quickened, and I felt lewd and sexy.

I imagined being told to pull my jeans down.

You’ve been a naughty girl, haven’t you?

My cunt pulsed. I unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them down to my thighs, blushing.

You need a good spanking?

I pulled my panties down, too. The air felt cool against my overheated sex.

I took the spoon and rubbed it against my bare ass. After a test tap, I brought it down, hard, onto my unprotected skin.

Delicious, stinging pain bloomed across my ass, and I moaned.

Yes. Fuck, yes.

I spanked myself again, harder.

Fuck, it felt so good.

Again and again, I smacked my ass, until my skin felt like it was on fire. I was breathing hard, lost in that intoxicating sensation, and I reached in between my legs to quell the mirrored ache in my pussy.

“Martina?”

I knew that voice. My blood ran cold.

Panicking, I whirled around, putting a hand over my bare cunt. Which was stupid, I know, since he had already seen everything.

“Brian! What are you doing here?”

Another stupid question, but my brain wasn’t working yet.

My coworker looked at me and cocked his head to the side. “I could ask you the same question.”

I blushed and stared at the ground. The silence of the office, which had been calming just a few minutes ago, was now oppressive.

“Are you… spanking yourself?” he asked. “…At the office?” His tone was incredulous, and I guess I couldn’t blame him.

I cursed myself for having this stupid idea.

I promised myself that I would never have any ideas, ever again.

There was no point in lying. “Yes,” I said. I wondered if he was going to tell our boss.

Tears stung my eyes. I would probably lose my job over this stupid, stupid idea.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Why?” Brian asked.

A tear slid down my cheek. “I don’t know… Well, I just needed it, I guess.”

I promised myself I would never need anything else, ever again.

He took a step closer to me. “You did?”

I nodded, feeling so stupid.

He put his hand on my shoulder, and I looked up at him with wide, unbelieving eyes. He pushed a little, making me turn away from him.

Oh, God. This was worse. So much worse.

My breath caught as I felt his fingers tease along the hot skin of my ass. I moaned, without thinking.

I shouldn’t be doing this. This is wrong. This is my coworker, for God’s sake!

“Wait, Brian. Wait,” I said, breathless.

His fingers stopped. “What am I waiting for?” His voice was a little deeper, now. “I come in on a Saturday, hoping to get some work done, and I find you spanking your own ass at your desk.” He leaned in close to my ear. “What am I supposed to do, Martina?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered.

“You don’t know.” His tone was patronizing. “You know, I should call our boss and tell him about your… inappropriate behavior today.”

I bit my lip. “Please, don’t.”

“Then what should I do?”

His breath traced along the back of my neck, and I shivered.

I heard him take a long, deep breath. “I’ve watched your ass sashay around the office for years. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to bend you over and give you long, hard spanking.” He paused. “And then I come in one day, and find this.”

I blinked.

Really?

“What should I do, Martina? Tell me.”

My whole body tingled, and my cunt pulsed.

I couldn’t believe what I was about to say.

“Bend me over, and give me a spanking.”

I moaned as I felt his hand on my back, gently pushing me forward until my chest rested on my desk.

His fingers traced over my ass, and swiped between my legs. “You’re wet,” he said. His palm slapped against my cheek, and then the other. “You really like this?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice breathy.

I heard him growl from behind me, before a volley of blows rained down on me. By the time he was done, I was squirming and crying.

And absolutely dripping with need.

He picked up the spoon.

“No, please,” I begged.

“No? Or please?” He rubbed the spoon against my inflamed skin.

I blushed. This was unbelievably humiliating. “…Please, Brian.”

The spoon slammed into me, the pain of it lost in my haze of desire. “Yes,” I said. “Yes, yes, please. Please, spank me! Hard, make it hard…”

He brought the spoon down in quick, hard strokes. Each blow melted into the next, and I found myself arching my back to meet them. I knew I was getting closer and closer to orgasm, without even touching my pussy. I could feel that knot inside me, clenching in need.

He didn’t stop until I was a sobbing mess.

“Spread your legs.”

I paused, a moment of lucidity in the chaos. Was he going to fuck me?

As if reading my mind, he answered. “I know you’re married, I’m not going to fuck you. I want to watch you bring yourself off, for me. Show me what a dirty little spanking slut you are.”

I blushed harder and spread my legs. I heard him take a step backward, as if he were angling for a better view.

If I had thought that getting spanked by my coworker was humiliating, showing him my soaked, needy sex was so much worse.

And yet, when I reached between my legs, that aching, hot embarrassment liquefied my core, and within minutes, I was screaming, spilling my desire down my legs.

“Fuck, you are beautiful, Martina.” He grunted, and I felt another hot spray over my swollen ass cheeks.

His cum. He came all over me.

I moaned, thinking about his cum on my ass. When I heard his zipper, my blush deepened, creeping down my chest. I felt like a deviant whore, and my cunt pulsed again.

“I want you to cum once more for me,” he said, though his voice was receding, as if he were walking away. “Cum for me, and think about what you’re going to offer me on Monday to keep your little secret.”

I mewled in embarrassment.

“Have a nice weekend, Martina.”

Photo by Tim Schmidbauer on Unsplash