LOGAN: Fooled Around and Fell in Lust

[OTKLogan]

Ok, I’ll admit it. I’m a few Lucky’s short of a pack but I’ve always took pride in knowing when I’m being played.

I have a degree from the University of Asphalt. I have a B.S. in B.S. That’s why I get utterly insane when someone pulls something over on me. Because I should see it coming a few thousand miles away. Street sense over logic. It always worked in the past.

But not this time.

It was about ten o’clock on a Wednesday. Hump Day. Why do they call it Hump Day when most people get laid on the weekend? Anyway, it was slow and I was standing at the back bar minding my own business.

“How ya doin’, hon?” the female voice said in a strong Baltimore accent.
I looked at the woman. Definitely, a pro. Not bad looking. She was probably a knockout at Woodstock. But I had to give her credit. She was trying. The Gucci knock-off jacket looked good but then the rest of the ensemble went to shit after that.
She had the face of a much taller woman. Long and thin. Full lips. Too much eye make-up but that was always an occupational hazard. I had some time to kill, so I figured, what the hell.
“I’m doin’ fine, darlin’. Let me buy you a drink.”
Damn, I can be charming when I want to.
She giggled. Like I said, a real pro.
I noticed everything on the woman jiggled but her ballooning breasts. I made contact with the immovable orbs.
“How much they set you back, hon?” I said nodding my head toward her store- bought treasures.
“They’re real, honey.” she said thrusting them toward me with pride.

“Yeah, they’re real and I’m a friggin’ pilot. Look, if we’re going to be friends, we have to be honest with each other. They are mighty fine but, hell baby, I don’t know a lot of things, but I know tits. And they ain’t real.” That Dale Carnegie course was starting to pay off.
The woman became highly insulted. Go figure.
“Oh yeah, and I know an asshole when I see one. So, keep your drink, you sorry son of a bitch.” she turned and hookered away leaving a trail of Paloma Picasso perfume in her wake.
“So, I guess a blow job is out of the question.” I said to with a chuckle.
It was going to be one of those nights.
The crowd started to slink in around eleven-thirty. The music was hot and the drinks were cold. What’s not to love?


Vince Cheverazzi, my back bartender and former bookie, saw her before I did. “Hey, boss, check out the bit of heaven headin’ this way. She could make mercury hard. Have mercy.”
Vince has a way with words.
The ‘bit of heaven’ was walking toward me. I took a quick look back to see if there was anyone else who caught her attention.
“Are you Logan?” she asked in an IRS voice.
“The one and only. How can I help you?” I asked.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” she screamed as the speakers kicked in.
I nodded and motioned for her to follow me.
I lead her into my office. For once, it was clean. I guess I’d better qualify that. It was cleaner than usual.


She was even more beautiful in the office lights. And that ain’t easy.
She was young. Depressing young. The kind of young that make men like me think “If I was only ten years younger…” Ok, twenty years younger.
Her blond hair framed a face sculpted out of sensuality. Her body screamed sex. It was deafening. A cigarette-coated voice floated out of her mouth.
“I have a complaint.” She spat.
“What seems to be the problem?”
“I’m not having fun.” Whining has absolutely no sex-appeal at all.
Yep, she caught me off guard. I was mute for a second but quickly recovered.
“Darlin’, if you can’t have fun in this club then you should take your nun’s habit and get back to the convent before midnight.”
There was that quick Logan wit. Yeah, I know, I’m half right.


“Do you have shit in your ears, old man? I said, I’m not having fun. This is a nightclub. If you believe some of the morons in this city it’s supposed to be the hottest club around. So, what’s up? This place is a fuckin’ morgue.”
So much for the nun analogy.
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. From where I was standing it looked like at least two hundred people were having fun on the dance floor. Unless what I was witnessing was a spastic’s convention.”
“Keep the lame jokes in your pocket, Logan. You run a sorry-ass bar, Mister. The people I talked to said you were ‘the man’. I can see they don’t know shit. Just look at the armpit you call an office. Don’t you have any pride?” she scolded.



I had to shake my head. What was this woman’s problem?
“You know, I might not be the pen with the most ink, but when I designed this club I came up with an amazing invention. It’s called a door. And if you aren’t having fun, all you have to do is walk through either one of them at the front of the club. Just don’t let it hit you where the good Lord split you.”
She smiled and walked toward me. My back was against the wall. I wasn’t sure where she was taking this but I knew it was getting a tad weird.
“Listen, shit-for-brains, I want action. I came a long way and I’m not leaving till I get what I came for. If you can’t give it to me, then fuck you.” And with those words, she threw the glass of scotch in my face.
The shock of the action and the splash of the drink and ice caught me off guard. I tried to wipe the liquid out of my eyes. She stood in front of me laughing with her hands on her hips.
“Are you out of your mind? What in the hell are you thinking?” I said as the scotch was dripping from my face.
“I’m thinking you’re a fucking wimp. And I’m wasting my time here. See you later, loser.” She turned to walk out of the office and deliberately knocked over my lamp. It hit the floor and shattered into about a thousand shards of glass.
I had enough.
“You’re not going anywhere.” I took her by the arm and in one motion I sat on the desk and swung her over my knee.
“You want action, I’ll give you action, little girl.”
“Hey. What are you doing? Let me up.”

“When I’m good and ready, dear. You don’t come in my office and insult my club, throw my whiskey in my face and then start to destroy my office. That doesn’t fly in this air space. Now stay still and take your medicine or I’ll blister these cheeks till sitting is a mere memory.”
And so it went. To her credit she tried to be brave. But after thirty seconds and five well-placed scorchers, it was quite evident I was making an impression on our critic.
“Ow, no, stop. What are you doing? This is against the law. This is assault.” Her arms were flailing. Because of the angle she couldn’t put her feet on the floor or balance herself by bracing her hands against anything. All in all, she was helpless.
“No, darlin’…” I said as I lifted her skirt and revealed white satin panties. “…this is assault.”


My palm flattened those sweet cheeks a good fifty times before I stopped and rested. Her bottom was delicious. Her lower cheeks were stained red. She continued to try and gain some semblance of equilibrium but to absolutely no avail.
After another volley of fifty, yes, I do count, I pulled her closer toward me. I tightened my grip as I grabbed the top of her panties and yanked them down hard.
Whew! What a sight. Two full, round, red cheeks shook as they were exposed to the light.
“Please, Logan, not on my bare bottom. It hurts already. It really does. Please?”

At that moment, somehow I went deaf. And began to give that poor little foul-mouth girl the spanking of her life. I put my shoulder into every one of those smacks. I was happy I invested in a good sound system or the customers would have heard the wailing of this bad girl.
Her legs began to crisscross. Her thighs parted and tried to lift off my lap. It was then that I realized this woman wasn’t exactly hating what was happening.
I stopped but the stinging and rhythm of the spanking kept her legs scissoring back and forth. Her right leg worked its way across my thigh so my knee was between her legs. I could feel her pelvis pressing hard against me.
I lifted her up and looked down. And there it was. A hot, wet pocket of sex in full bloom. Her thighs were coated with slick sex-nectar.
I began to rub her blazing bottom. Softly. Slowly. “Ooooooh, Logan, I’m sorry. I was bad. I know it. Don’t spank me anymore. Please. Mmmmmmmmmm. Yes.” She moaned as she squirmed erotically.
Uh-oh.
My thumb drifted between her thigh and I found her soaked excitement. Her body now relaxed and lay limp over my knee. She aided my search by allowing me to touch the second hottest area of her body.
“Yes, Logan…please…ooooooh, please…..”
Houston, we have lift-off.
I found what I was looking for and tweaked, and probed, and pressed the hard, throbbing button. She squirmed almost as much as she did during the spanking.
With a quick turn I managed to slide her upper body onto the top of the desk. She grabbed either side, bracing her body for the invasion.
Ah, leverage. Her back arched. This made her even more vulnerable.
I could feel her body begin to swell. My thumb teased the tight space between her cheeks. With little resistance it entered unchallenged.
“Logan, there, deeper, please.” Her moans were low and primal.
Soon both of my hands were working overtime. Her legs crossed trapping my hands that were deep inside her. I slowly put more pressure on the tight, sweet bottom. My fingers were allowed access as they slid deeper and deeper. And as each knuckle slowly filled and stretched her, she erupted into a Shangri-La that had the entire room shaking.
“Logan, please, I want you there. Please.” She screamed.
She turned her head and looked deep into my eyes. Her face was a mask of hunger, lust, and passion.
And in a low, soft growl, she said: “I want you…there.”
She arranged herself over my desk. Offering her most intimate of charms to me. I made sure what we were about to do would was safe and then I anointed the tight destination and eased myself slowly till I felt she was comfortable.
I inhaled as I felt a small vise squeeze and release.
“Are you ok, darlin’?” I whispered.
“Mmmmm, yes sir.” She said as she accepted more of my attention.
. Her bottom pressed back with calculated deliberation. I could feel the warmth I had put into her bottom as her hot cheeks met my stomach.
Our rhythm was hypnotic. Two as one. Long, deep, slow thrusts. To the hilt. Then equally slow withdrawals. And we repeated this until we both collapsed in animalistic abandon.
I have no idea how long we lay there. If I smoked, I would have inhaled a carton. This was Nirvana. The feeling, not the rock band.
We both pulled ourselves together in an afterglow of silence and bewilderment. Then she said:
“Thanks, Logan. You lived up to your reputation.”
My pants were at half-mast when I said: “Run that by me again.”


She laughed as she brushed her hair with one hand and rubbed the swells of her bottom with the other.
“Someone, who shall go nameless, told me you gave one helluva spanking. And knew your way around a woman’s bottom like no other man she’d known. Believe me, this woman would know. So, I thought, I’d see if it was true. And, baby, it’s all that and a bag of chips.”
“You mean all of that stuff about ‘action’ was a put-on?” I stupidly asked.
“Come on, Logan, you didn’t expect me to come in here and say, ‘Hey Mister, wanna spank by butt and take me like a punk in prison?’ do you?”
She had a good point. But I have to admit that would have been novel.


“I’m sorry, Logan. But it was worth it. I’ve never had a spanking like that in my life and I’ve had my share. Started thinking about it when I was four. Can’t say why that is. My parents never laid a finger on me. But every time I’d see a cartoon or TV show that had a strong man spanking a girl I would have to change my panties.”
“So you have the “gene”. I said with a chuckle.
“Like nobody’s business. I think about it everyday. And when I find someone like you, Logan. I treasure ever slap. Damn, you’re good.”
“Oh, I bet you say that to all the tops.” I blushed.
There was an awkward silence that filled the room. She excused herself and used my bathroom. I used that time to think of another event in my life that was as strange and fulfilling as this one. I drew a blank.
This woman was beautiful and loved spanking. And she came her to see me. God bless America.


Speaking of God, I made a mental note to add a C-note in the collection plate this week at Sunday mass.
The door swung open and there was beauty incarnate.
“Thanks again, Logan. I’ll never forget tonight. Ever.”
“Whoa, where are you going? Stay for a drink. We’ll go to breakfast.” I was stammering like Porky friggin’ Pig.
“Not tonight, gotta go catch a plane.” She said walking to the door. I watched her cheeks rumba under her skirt.
“Plane? Are you here visiting friends? Business?”
A smile exploded on her face.
“Nope. I flew in just to see you. I’ve got to get back to Seattle.”
The door flew open and she quickly walked away.
“Seattle? Wait. Just to see me?”


By the time I could get back into the club she was swallowed up by a human ocean.
I pigeoned my head above the crowd to find her. She was gone.
I went back to my office. I took a deep breath and tried to collect as much of her spirit as I could. The chair caught me as I slumped down. Drained. Spent. I contemplated what had just happened and came to this conclusion.
I fell in lust and lost. And when that happens all the street smarts in the world won’t do you a bit of good.
Story of my life.
Go figure.