My best friend, Eleanor, had set me up on a blind date with one of her coworkers.

“I’d date him myself,” she told me, “but our office has a strict policy against office romance.”

“What’s he like?” I wanted to know.

She started to describe him physically — blue eyes, black hair, athletic build. But I didn’t care about that as much as his personality. I’d dated a whole slew of attractive guys who were looking only for arm candy. I craved substance. Someone I could talk to, tell my fantasies to…

“You’ll like him,” she promised. “He’s your type.”

“What type is that?” I asked.

“The spanking type,” she said without hesitation, a smirk forming on her lips.

During a confessional cocktail hour, I’d once told her I loved to be spanked. I’d had one margarita too many, and I’d crooned that the handsome bartender could spank me anytime. Eleanor had been intrigued. “Spank?” she’d asked. “Not fuck.”

“Both,” I said. “One first, followed by the other.”

Apparently, she’d figured out Jake was into the same thing, so when he became single, she’d put my number in his hands.

We simply had to see if we were compatible. I found myself jittery with nerves when he walked into the café for our date. He found me immediately and introduced himself. His handshake was firm, his gaze was strong.

“Ruby.”

“My favorite color.”

Instant. Sparks. Warm desire spread through me. What had she said about him? That he was strict. No, that was the office policy. The strict part. But he exuded a certain stern personality. His hair was combed back, slick and straight. His gaze moved over me, hard and fast. He was undressing me without his hands, without his words. I felt as if I was completely naked in his presence.

“Here, let’s sit,” he said jovially.

I was going to have to get control of myself. I’d never felt such an instantaneous attraction to another person before. His eyes — fuck me — his eyes were so piercing, so probing. She’d said “blue,” but she hadn’t fully described their power. When he told me he’d been looking forward to our date, I babbled back that I had, too. Babbled. Truly, like a brook. My words flowing freely. I shook my head and tried to regain some sense of decorum. We were in public, and I was ready to fold myself over his lap, lift my skirt, ask him to…

“Drink?” he said. It took me a minute to realize he was offering me a beverage. The waiter was standing beside our table. I must have looked lost. Jake said, “We’ll need a minute to decide,” and off the waiter went.

Feeling impatient and reckless, I dove right in and said, “Eleanor told me you were my type.”

He nodded and then responded, “She told me the same thing about you.”

“So do we really need to do this?” I waved my hand back and forth. Why waste time with small talk when we were both eager to get to the main event.

“He answered my silent plea, jamming his cock inside my hot cunt.”

He shook his head. “I don’t if you don’t.”

And that’s how we ended up back at his place, with me over his knees and him stroking my ass through my skirt.

“Eleanor said you like being spanked.”

I hummed a dreamy-sounding reply, and then we were off. He spanked me with finesse, asking me questions, and then punctuating my responses with smacks of his hand against my ass.

“Do you usually let men spank you on the first date?” he asked, punctuating each word with a spank.

I shook my head. He didn’t like that.

“When I ask you a question, I expect to hear a response.”

I should have guessed as much.

“No,” I answered. “Not usually.”

“Just every so often.”

“Actually, this is a first for me.”

“What makes me so special?”

I was incredibly relieved not to be looking directly at him as I said, “Your eyes.”

“My eyes?”

“Your eyes told me what it would feel like to have you spank me.”

He continued punishing me then. I guessed I’d given the right answer, or a right answer. But then I had to ask him a question of my own. “Do you usually spank girls on a first date?”

“This is a first for me, too.”

“What makes me so special?” I asked.

“My climax hit me hard, making me cry out. My orgasmic song inspired him.”

“The way you looked at me with that yearning written all over your face.” He briefly stilled his hand and added, “I’ll learn how much you like, how hard you can take it. But for now, you tell me when you’re at the boiling point.”

He proceeded to heat my ass seriously, warming both cheeks and smacking the backs of my thighs. When I was primed, I told him so.

“Fuck me,” I begged him. “Fuck me now!”

He’d punished me to perfection — and he fucked me just as good. Helping me stand, he then positioned me on the couch. I knelt on the cushions, clutching the furniture and thrusting my smarting ass back at him to encourage him to slam into me. He answered my silent plea, jamming his cock inside my hot cunt and fucking me madly. Each time he thrust into me, the slap of his pelvis against my well-spanked rear reawakened the burn and made my pussy drip. Those sensations, coupled with my hand sneaking down to rub my clit, had me coming in no time.

My climax hit me fast and hard, making me cry out rapturously. My orgasmic song inspired him to pound me harder. Through my happy haze, I could hear his labored breathing and felt the erratic jerks of his body as he plundered my pussy. My spasming cunt milked the cream right out of him, and with a groan, he emptied into me and collapsed against my sweaty back.

Without a doubt, it was my best blind date ever!

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