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Swing Set

By: sr71plt



He was just posed there, his feet on the ground, half sitting in the seat swing in the overgrown abandoned playground at the back of the elementary school. I had walked over here on a whim to cool down from the sharp retort I had unexpectedly made to my mother at the lunch table. This after her third badly cloaked jab on why I hadn't married yet and given her grandchildren. She knew why I hadn't married yet, but she just was ignoring it. Was I going to have to bring a man home and let him fuck me on the table during one of her luncheons for her to accept what was?

Still, it wasn't her fault. My dad had left her for another man, so I could understand why she had thrown up these futile barriers of nonacceptance. It had been years since I'd come home. I made a good living out on the West Coast in those movies Mother would never see. I meant it to be a pleasant visit. But she kept after me. After I'd lost my cool, I had to get out of the house. She'd already told me my elementary school had been closed down for three years and they didn't know what to do with it, and I'd said I might walk over there. So, saying this was the time seemed natural. I'd been working out lightly just before lunch and was in just gym shorts, a T, and sneakers. But it wasn't like the school house was in the ritzy part of town, so I just mumbled something to her about where I was going and left the house in as calm a manner as I could. It wasn't her fault. I knew she wanted grandchildren. And there was what my father did to her. Still . . .

The schoolhouse always had been in endanger of being engulfed in the inevitable kudzu that laid claim to anything that wasn't moving in Arkansas. So, it wasn't a surprise that it looked somewhat like sleeping beauty's castle when I got over there. I had intended to walk all the way around it and then go home and maybe try to talk this issue out with my mother. We just couldn't go on this way. But still, I think only a shock and the obvious of the inevitable would break through her shell, as painful as that would be. But, could I do what had to be done?

I wasn't expecting to see anyone at the school, and so it was a real shock when I saw him there, in the overgrown playground, standing against the only swing that still had a well-worn leather strap seat in it.

He must have wondered if I was some sort of parks official or school watchman, because he was as surprised to see me as I was to see him and looked a little guilty—and he was poised at the swing, obviously having been prepared to try it out, but now unsure of whether he should take flight instead.

He was Hispanic, no doubt one of the transient laborers who came in to work the fields for a couple of weeks at harvest and then moved on. He wore only worn jeans, washed so many times they were nearly white in places and with slits and ravels at the knees and on the hems. He was barefoot and had long, sensuous feet with plump toes, but with every toe in perfect alignment, evidence that he only wore shoes when he had to—or possibly when he could get them. The development of the muscles of his abs, chest, and arms evidenced a man who worked the fields hard and well and carried his full weight of harvest. Honest and hardworking—and straightforward. As well as being naturally dark, he was heavily tanned from having worked out in the open; his face was lean and chiseled and expressive, and, although I assumed he wore his long, black hair in a pony tail when he worked, it was loose and falling straight down to beyond his shoulders now. He had a blue sun-burst tattoo centered on his navel and was wearing a thick gold chain around his neck. But other than that, his only adornment was broad, full lips that were uncertain when he first saw me, but that broadened out into a smile of recognition as I stood, transfixed in that surprising discovery of such a beautiful, sensuous man in such an unlikely place.

He spoke first, cutting through several minutes of wonder and verbal fencing. I had already decided that I would have him if he was even remotely interested in fucking me. I needed relief from two days of tip-toeing around reality in my mother's house.

"Derick Derringer?" he asked, somewhat incredulously.

And that's all it took to set up the coupling, to establish the inevitability of his hot breath on my neck and his brown manhood churning inside me. Derick Derringer was my movie name.

I nodded in agreement.

"I don't believe it," he said, although he clearly did.

And so I provided confirmation simply by pulling my T and shorts off right there and then and flexing to let him see the movement of the gecko tattoo just below and to the right of my navel. My signature tattoo.

Holding his smile, he unbuttoned his jeans and spread them wide and freed a plump brown cock with proportions that matched his long, sensuous feet.

"There's only one swing, but I'm willing to share," he said. "Will you swing with me?"

And I walked right into him, between his spread legs, still encased in the tight jeans. I reached down for him and he for me and we kissed, first tentatively, and then deeply. I went down on my knees and sucked him to massive, throbbing readiness, as he perched on the leather seat strap and moved slowly back and forward, moving his cock deep into my throat or to either side of my inner cheeks and then rocking back to where the tip almost cleared the pressure of my lips. Rocking back and forth, using the swing as a sling.

It wasn't long, though, before he was shuddering and murmuring for me, pleading for me to let him fuck me. He needn't have asked. He held sway over me from the moment I saw the flexing of his chest and arm muscles in the first minute I had entered the playground.

Luckily, I never left a house without a condom or two and a tube of lube. I went back to my shorts and retrieved these. I used the lube on me as I walked back and I handed him the condom and the tube. He only took the condom, which he palmed.

First we swing, he said. Having gotten my assent, he was all control now—and that was fine with me. He gestured for me to mount his lap, and I did so, facing him, my legs straddling his hips in the strap seat, and he pushed off.

We soared back and forth, swinging higher and higher, his cock sliding across my puckering hole in the crevice between my butt cheeks and mine rubbing up and down on his belly, using the center of that tattooed sun as its target. I clung to him with my arms around his heaving chest as he swung us higher and higher, increasing the friction, making me tremble, me feeling him tremble too. Both of us sighing and moaning in anticipation of what was to come.

Then he brought us to a stop, and pushed my shoulders down to his ankles. I watched up the length of my body as he fumbled with the condom and the lube and, dropping the spent packet and wrinkled tube to the side of the swing in the dirt, he held my torso in close with powerful thighs and calves and took my hips in his hands and pulled me, slowly, painfully, fillingly, gloriously onto his cock. My lips were on his plump brown nipple and as I felt his cock at my rim, I tongued up to that gold chain around his neck and, taking the hard, smooth links in my mouth, sucked hard, suppressing the scream of first possession, awed and glorified by a thickness and stretching that rivaled anything I experienced on the movie set—loving that first moment of being invaded, taken. The start of the fuck.

Moving me up and down on the plunging tool with a vise grip on my hips, he fucked me until I was writhing about and crying out and groaning and grunting. At length, he put his hands below my shoulder blades and pulled me back up close into his chest.

He pulled my ankles up until they were entwined in the ropes of the swing high over my head, and he began to swing us again. Higher and higher. Each arc of the swing pulling my ass canal down to the root of his cock; each upswing sliding him toward my entrance.

Back, forth, Up, back, In, out. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Deeper inside; fuller thickness. Whimpers and cries; moans and groans. Not all of those mine. Twitching and lurching. Fuck, fuck fuck. Deep, deep, deep. A scream of passion in unison, and I came up his belly as the head of the condom filled out deep inside me.

He brought us to a stop, the calloused heels of his feet dug in the dirt and knees flexed. My legs came down and wrapped themselves around his waist, and I continued to slowly move against him, not wanting it to stop. Lost in the fuck of the swing. Feeling him diminish, but wanting him still, deep, deep inside me.

He murmured something into my ear that I didn't understand—I think in Spanish. He was as transported to another world as I was.

I murmured back. He didn't understand me either. But he asked for a repeat.

"What are you doing for lunch tomorrow?" I asked.

He moved his head away from mine and gave me a questioning look. I was still moving my ass against him, rippling my canal muscles, keeping him hard inside me, making him engorge again, bringing him back to lustful strength.

"Have you ever fucked on a dining room table?" I asked.

He laughed, buried his lips and teeth into the hollow of my neck, and responded to the tune my passage walls were playing on his captured manhood by swinging us heavenward once more. 

Swing Shift



"Fuck you up the ass, bitch!" I screamed with my finger covering the boom mike just as Melissa strolled into our shared cubicle. Swing shift's newest temporary employee was fifteen minutes late, as usual. Two weeks ago, to the day, she arrived twenty minutes late and announced that I was her trainer.

We were both at the bottom of the tech support food chain, consequently we arrived at work as the twenty-three-year-old assistant vice presidents were heading for the door. Most were techno geeks with the fashion sense of Jethro Bodine and the super ego of Pinocchio. These diminutive tyrants would spend years creating a virtual über-woman but would not invest ten minutes in verbal banter with the opposite sex. Maybe when they're rich...

The temp's eyebrows rose as she put a pained smile on her face at my outburst.

"The customer is always right," she deadpanned as she draped her pink sweater over the back of her chair. We were forced to share a single cubicle because the "day shifters" hated everyone who didn't look like Buddha in polyester or who didn't believe "War Games" was the best film ever made. Because of this, only one cubicle — at the end of a long row of cubicles — was available for us "swing shifters."

The day shift wieners forced Melissa, a five-foot-nine-inch red-headed bombshell who was so hot rain evaporated before it touched her skin, and myself to the outer circles of Dante's Inferno. The geeksters looked down their nose, and over their black horn-rimmed glasses, at my English Lit Masters' degree and wondered aloud, how could the former captain of the college lacrosse team be such an egghead? 

That particular evening I was wrestling with another fifty-year-old female office manager who blamed our software package for losing her files fifteen minutes before quitting time. Most of the these women had probably kicked the plug out of the wall causing their remote control vibrators to switch gears seconds before they reached an orgasm and they were pissed at the world of high technology because of it.

"No ma'am, you can recover the file if you..." I looked towards Melissa and mouthed "your late."

Melissa shrugged and turned away.

"...yes ma'am. I'll let you talk to my supervisor, Melissa. Hang on a sec." I spun around in the chair. "I'm sorry, Melissa. I can't make her happy. Can you..?"

She had already plugged in and was apologizing for my poor performance. The 110 volt-vibrator lady was informed that I was new and not very bright. Melissa suggested that I might have a promising career in politics if I could learn to wear a tie properly.

I forced a smile and nodded a half-hearted thanks at Melissa. The day had started like this. My girlfriend broke up with me because I wasn't willing to pack a hundred dollars worth of cocaine a day into her pretty little nose. Then a job interview, earlier that day, had ended poorly when a twenty-one-year-old human resources specialist said my forms were filled out incorrectly and that I "...couldn't follow instructions."

"Melissa, when you're late I get backed up with calls..." Before I finished she had picked up the next call and was ignoring me. It was just another day at the office working with Melissa.

Melissa stood out in a crowd: amidst a crowd of naked Playboy Bunnies, Melissa stood out. She had long auburn hair, slim tapered legs and high set breasts that moved like a ship at sea when she walked. In reality, it didn't matter what the rest of her body did; running, walking or beating a sociopathic marsupial with a sand wedge, her breasts seemed to be rolling on the waves like a sailboat cutting through a balmy sea. She was gorgeous and, unfortunately, she knew it all too well.

"I have to leave early tonight. Tony is picking me up."

I had watched this Tony guy come to pick her up in his 500 series Beemer several times. He was some slick lawyer-looking poof with expensive tastes in suits, cars and, undoubtedly, women.

"Well, you were late and..."

"Thanks. You're a love." She aimed a small "air kiss" sound in my compass direction and continued chatting with someone in Russia.

"Da... nyet." Laughter.

I, on the other hand, looked like I had been run through the dryer with a hand full of baseballs. A thin scar across my chin, where I stopped a hockey puck that would've been a certain goal, was my most prominent feature. A twice broken nose and some smaller dings rounded out the mix.

I had gone to college on a football scholarship but when the scouts failed to offer me pro contracts — and pro dollars — the wellspring of interested women dried up quickly. I finished my MS while playing lacrosse and water polo, neither of which were exactly chick magnet activities. Tall and strong, as I am, these are not the prerequisites most hot women put at the top of their lists of "things that guys I'm going to fuck, need to have."

Running my hand through my unruly blond mop I turned to take the next call. As things slowed down I caught pieces of a conversation between her and Tony. Their date was off. He was sucking some big-shot's dick at an exclusive club that didn't even allow women in the parking lot.

"So you'll be here 'til closing?" I asked after she hung up.

Tears streamed down her face. "How can I work when I feel like this?"

Something inside me snapped. "God damn it! I feel like that every night but I still work." My fists were clinched. "What the fuck is your major malfunction?"

"Can we talk about this after work? Maybe over a drink?" she sniffed. I was stunned. She had never asked me to empty the garbage much less have something as passé as a drink with her.

At the bar, she confided that Tony was a wanker. But he paid her Visa bill no matter how outrageous it might be, she continued, though she could never love someone who didn't care about her as a person.

Great, I thought. So, now I get to be your girlfriend and listen to you piss and moan about Tony paying your obscene Visa bill month in and month out... what an inconsiderate asshole this guy must be.

I spoke briefly to her about my troubles with the Hoover money/coke vacuum but, by now, she was more interested the 11 o'clock stock report on the television hanging over the bar.

"Would you walk me home?" she whined.

Gee, what could be more entertaining? I nodded my head.

She fumbled with the key while she continued to cry. I grabbed it from her hand and pushed on the door which swung open easily. It was already unlocked and partially open.

"Can you check to make sure he's not here?"

I was thinking, If he is, can I stomp on his trachea? I made a cursory walk through.

"Okay, you're on your own."

"What's wrong with you?" I looked over my shoulder to see if she was addressing me with that question. "Why'd you let your girlfriend use you for so long?"

"Well, I guess I thought..."

"You don't think. That's your problem." Her tears gave way to anger.

"Huh?" This was taking a surreal turn.

"What would you do if she were right here in front of you? Right now?"

I hesitated. "Where is this going?"

"Sometimes..." She sighed before she continued quietly. "Girls behave badly because they need someone to take charge of their life. Someone who'll show them that... they care. Like a father figure..." I shrugged my shoulders. Wetness welled up in her eyes again. "Tony doesn't do that for me," she sniffed.

I had no earthly idea what she was getting at. "Okay... so?" 

Melissa stood in the doorway and let her stare burn through me. Shaking her head she started in on me again with ire. "Oh, you deserve everything she gave you! What a putz you are."

"Shut the fuck up," I complained. "We're not friends and you don't know anything about me."

Nodding, she continued sarcastically. "Oh, I think I do. You loser... every woman will use you like a fucking tampon..."

"Shut... up!"

"... and drop you in the trash when they're done..." I moved towards the door. She stepping in front of me blocking my exit. "...and you'll tell your mama that it was..." I pushed her to one side to leave but she pushed back, hard. "... all their fault!" Putting on a mocking voice she continued. "I don't have the balls, mommy..."

For the first time in my life I was rough with a female. I did not hit her, instead I shoved her out of my way: hard. Harder than I needed to, really. The poison from Melissa's tirade stung me and I reacted poorly.

"Please, don't go," were the last words I heard from her as I stormed out the door.

The next day she arrived twenty-two minutes late. Handling a call, I looked directly at my watch but she ignored me.

"I'm sorry about what happened last night," I said after I finished the call.

"No. I'm sorry. I thought you were something different." Her voice had an edge to it. "I thought the man who got all those scars would show up."

"I got those scars from rough games." Her look was unmistakable. I set my jaw. "After work little lady." A flicker of fear shot through her eyes. We didn't speak the rest of the evening.

Arriving in front of her apartment she fumbled with the key, again.

"Open it." My voice sounded stern: even to me. There was no more fumbling and the door flew open.

"Sit down over there." I pointed to the couch. I didn't know what to do next so I went into her bedroom and turned on the computer. Snooping around as the computer loaded up I spotted handcuffs, alligator clips, leather paraphernalia and a wide razor strop hanging in her closet. I needed to consult the internet experts for further instructions.

"Get in here!" I barked.

Melissa walked in with her hands clasped in front of her staring at the carpet. "Stand over there, at the end of the bed." I didn't want her to see what I was viewing while I set about becoming... the site was called "Daddy's Home." Her gaze drifted up towards mine.

"Don't you eyeball me, pet. Do you mind if I call you pet?" I asked sardonically. She returned her gaze to the floor and she shook her head slightly.

"Peel," I said brusquely. "I want you newborn naked." She hesitated. "Hurry up!" I clapped my hands to make my point clearer. With her eyes downcast she reached back to unzip her red dress and she slipped it off her shoulders. It fell to her feet in a pile. A hand lingered on her shoulder as though she was afraid to continue. Suddenly, she seemed to have the affect of a preteen girl: frightened and unsure of herself. I sat back in the chair and smiled. This was working. One finger slipped under her bra strap.

"God damn it! Hurry up!" She jumped at my outburst and tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. The straps fell free from her shoulders and she reached behind her back to undo the clasp. Her arms tucked against her sides held the bra in place as the clasp let go.

"Put you arms up!" I ordered. Real tears were rolling down her cheeks, now. Slowly, her arms moved away from her body. Her breasts fell gently as her bra landed at her feet. They were as luxurious as advertised. Her rich pink nipples pointed slightly upward and there was a single arc from the top of her tits curving in a smooth long line to where they met her ribcage. The aureole wrinkled in the cool of the bedroom causing her nipples to stand stiffly away from her regal looking breasts. My cock strained against the fabric my pants.

"Come over here," I said as I pointed to a spot no more than six inches in front of my chair. Shuffling to where I pointed she kept her eyes downward. "Kneel," I barked. She dropped quickly and sat on her heels.

"Wait a minute... didn't I tell you I wanted you new-born naked?" I asked knowing the answer already.

"I..." she started.

"Don't talk back, pet," I started loudly and finished quietly. "I don't want to hurt you but you have to mind me." She nodded. I slapped her face gently with my open palm. "This will be painful if you don't do what I say. Do you understand, pet?" I was condescending now and she nodded slowly.

"Stand up and turn around." She jumped up and, shuffling her feet, turned slowly.

"Stop." Her back was to me.

"Push your panties all the way to the floor." Her finger worked inside the front waist band and slowly slid outward to her hips. Melissa pushed her silk panties down past her knees and finally onto the floor. As she rose I ordered her to stop, halfway.

"I want to see what you have for me. Spread your pretty ass cheeks, pet, so I can see your sweet little pussy." Her entire body turned crimson at my order. I could see she was completely flushed with embarrassment and I was beginning to get the hang of this.

"Come on... show me your pussy." Her hands spread her cheeks little by little until burnt-red pubic hair and pink pussy lips were in full glorious view.

"I wanna to see inside," I taunted. There was a slight hesitation and I slapped her ass cheek with just my fingers. She jumped and spread herself open to my gaze. I chuckled now. A clitoris stood away from the protective hood, demanding my attention. Her sexual arousal was obvious.

"Stay just like that," I cooed as I rose and walked to the closet. The handcuffs looked good to start with. I cuffed her hands behind her back and pushed her down to her knees.

I undid my fly quickly. Too quickly. Damn, slow down, I reminded myself.

"I think when we're in this room you'll call me..." I glanced at the web site on the computer's screen. "Daddy. Can you do that, pet?" Nodding silently, she stared directly at the outline of my cock as it pushed against my cotton boxers. "Do you like cock, my pet?" I cooed. A nod.

"Good, what I have will entertain you." I held her pretty little jaw in my hand while I eased my hips towards her waiting mouth. "Use just your mouth," I coaxed, not wanting to let go of her face. My erection was raging but I wanted her to work for it. Struggling for several moments she finally freed my stiff organ and slipped it into her mouth without a sound.

"Hum for me, pet." Her head bobbed slightly as she set herself to swallowing my flesh. Then she began to hum softly. It was heaven. I looked down at her svelte body and couldn't believe that my cock was going to be buried in that sweet little red triangle between her thighs. A dusting of freckles on her shoulders drifted into slow curves that ran over the small rills of her ribcage before it took a turn and ran smoothly to her hips. Even sitting on her feet, her hips were slim and without a trace of imperfection. This lady had the curves you'd expect to find on a calculus final exam.

I pulled my cock out of her warm wet maw and pushed my balls to her face. "Now do my balls, pet." She sucked them in gently and I could feel her tongue searching over my skin. Whoops. I jumped back. That might lead to an early retirement. Not yet, I thought.

"Stand up." With her hands cuffed behind her back she struggled to get to her feet. I stood by and watched unconcerned.

"You've been late and you should be punished," I paused. "Yes?" A nod. Tears welled up in her green eyes again. "I don't want to punish you but you have to behave." I pinched her pubic hair between my thumb and index finger, leading her to the bed by this delicate leash. I pushed her forward, where she fell face first on the bed spread. Her ass cheeks were white as cream. Pulling her hips higher I got her to rest on her knees with her face in buried in the bedding. With my right hand planted firmly in the small of her back, being a south paw, I slapped her ass hard.

SLAP!

A perfect imprint of my hand raised up in angry red borders quickly. She jumped and I thought I heard a moan.

The razor strop beckoned from the closet and pulling it from its hook. I felt the heft of it. I spread her knees with me foot and let loose with the cruel piece of leather.

SWOP!

A screech came from my pet's throat. I leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Are you going to be late, anymore?" Her head rocked back and forth across the bed. "You bet you're not," I said loudly.

SWOP!

Her body bucked and I saw two wide red marks glaring at me from her pretty slim ass.

"I don't want to do this."

SWOP!

"... but you have to learn discipline..." Her body twisted and I could hear her sobs plainly.

SWOP!

Flattening her body on the bed she begged me to stop.

"Please, Daddy! I'll do whatever you want." She was breathless now. 

SWOP!

"Aih!" she screamed.

"Move your hands," I barked as she had spread her handcuffed fingers and palms to absorb as much of the shock as she dared. "Move 'em!" I shouted. Slowly, she complied and I saw her entire body tense in preparation for the next blow.

SWOP!

She thrashed around in the bedding like a shark in mud puddle. I dropped the razor strop on the floor and stepping close behind her I pulled her hips up off the bed again.

"Please, Daddy! No more! Please, I'm begging you!" She was almost hysterical.

"Shhh. Now I'll show you how much I care." I spoke quietly into her ear as she sobbed. I knelt behind and with one sure move plunged my cock all the way to the bottom of her pretty pink pussy. She screamed, again.

"Your ass feels hot, pet," I cooed. "Do you know why?" She nodded. "Tell me."

Turning her head slightly she managed to squeak in a voice like a little girl's, "Because I was late, Daddy..."

"What else?" I asked cruelly.

She hesitated.

SLAP!

I used my hand this time on her red-streaked bottom.

Melissa's screamed into the wad of comforter she was now chewing on.

"Oh God, Daddy! I was snotty to you and..."

I was no longer listening to her litany of faults as I pulled my cock out of her slick sex to the very tip and then slammed forward again pitching her onto her stomach. I couldn't wait any longer. For a brief period I must have went a little crazy because I had never slapped my balls so hard on any woman's ass in my life. They were actually sore the next day from my ride on sweet Melissa.

Pounding away at her pussy savagely she continued to scream into the bedding until I saw her entire body quake. The muscles on her back strained against her skin and I could see, in clear detail, each one. Her ass cheeks, now red and swollen, went tight as a drum and her feet and head came off the bed as she let loose with a loud hiss, like a steam engine finally coming to rest in the station. She bucked several more times as I pushed my pubic bone against her flexed ass and shot my spunk deep inside her. When I pushed forward a second time her body had gone limp and I felt the firm resistance of her cervix as it rolled under the head of my cock. This caused her body to buck again as it drove her to another orgasm.

I collapsed onto her back and tried to catch my breath. In silence, I undid the hand cuffs while she lay passively on the bed, angry red welts still obvious on her smooth ass cheeks. I didn't know what to do next. That part wasn't covered on the web site. At last, she sat up on the edge of the bed and looked to my shrinking cock.

"Daddy, let me clean you up." She spoke softly as she slipped my cock back into her mouth, playing a rough game of tag with her tongue. My body jerked as I tangled my fingers in her lovely red-hair. Then she began to hum softly.

I was whistling as I strolled into the office 30 minutes late the next day. Melissa sat talking to a user in Latvia. I looked her in the eye and she demurely glanced away.

With a slight smile on her lips she whispered to the client.

"Can I call you back in ten minutes? My boss just walked in..."