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  1. (X/F, consensual, hand, otk. Fiction) Covid sucks, obviously. The whole godawful mess that it created, on top of, yanno, people dying. But it's had its upsides. Take me, for example. I started driving for a delivery service right after the first lockdown. (I won't name it for legal reasons. Let's just say their name rhymes with “goober feats.” The money was decent, and more importantly, it got me out of the damn house. This would have been enough on its own, but what really sealed the deal for me was the day that one of my regulars, one of my particularly sexy, flirty regulars, wrote “there's a little extra in it for you if you can serve me those burgers Las Vegas Style,” followed by the peach emoji and the purple devil emoji in the “special instructions” field. I had no idea what that meant, and Google was not my friend that night. I thought it might have been something like “animal style,” but the In-And-Out guy just gave me a blank stare...even more than usual. This was a disappointment, because even though I couldn't figure out what “Las Vegas Style” was, I knew all about the peach emoji, and as peach emojis went, hers was, well, at least 4 jalapeno emojis. So I knocked on her door feeling defeated. “Jackie? It's your usual caller. Third time this week!” “Hey, Chris,” she smiled, coming to the door in her pandemic uniform of a t-shirt with some event from 2015 on it and fluffy plaid pajama pants. “How are you tonight?” “I'm good...couldn't get them to make your burger Las Vegas Style, though, sorry about that. They acted like they didn't even know what that was.” Jackie laughed at this. “It's not on their menu,” she said, taking the bag from me and setting it to the side. “Here, I'll show you,” she continued, pulling out her phone. A moment later, she handed it to me, showing a menu for crepes. “Jackie, I know you've been in your apartment for...however long it's been now...but you DO know this is a crepe menu and you ordered burgers, right?” Jackie punched my shoulder playfully. “Read it, silly.” So I did. And there it was right there at the bottom: Las Vegas Style. Any crepe. And a spanking. “You want me to spank you?” I had to say, the idea was not without its merits. Four jalapeno emojis, remember? “Ookay, umm..” “Yeah, I mean, I'm going stir crazy in here. I just...I need my ass beat. Help a girl out?” She punctuated her request with a pout straight out of porn parody. I thought about this. Company policy probably frowned on this, at a bare minimum. I had two other orders in the passenger seat getting colder by the minute. My damn key fob's battery needed to be replaced and I was too far away to lock the car. Was this really worth it, even if it was four jalapenos? Seriously, there was only one sensible choice. “OK, sure. How do we want to do this?” What can I say? Four jalapenos. Four. Jalapenos. When that peach emoji asks you for a spanking, you damn well give that peach emoji a spanking. Without another word, she waved me in and pointed me to her couch, then draped herself across my lap, wiggling her plaid-covered backside invitingly as she smiled back over her shoulder at me. I'm not a rocket surgeon, but I knew what to do. SMACK. My first swat echoed around the apartment. Jackie made a quiet gasping sound, then wiggled all four jalapenos at me again. More smacks. More gasps. More wiggling. This was fun. I gave her a long flurry of swats, covering her entire fuzzy plaid-covered behind, and soon she gave up her first few “owws!” of the spanking. I paused to rub her tight little bottom and felt her relax over my lap. I let my hand rub over her a bit more, enjoying the feel of the fleece almost as much as the curves of her bottom against my hand. I was This. Close. to telling her to sit up, when she looked back over her shoulder, wiggled her ass at me and asked “so, are you gonna pull my pants down or what?” Well, when you put it that way... I slipped my fingers under her waistband and tugged her pj's to just above her mid-thighs. Jackie dutifully lifted her hips to help the process along, and soon enough I was admiring all four jalapenos worth of her nicely pinkened rear. Some people wear their underwear under their pj's. Jackie was not one of them. I had no problem with this as I ran my hand over the warm, soft skin. She let out a soft purr as I traced over the warm spots I'd already made with my palm, then gave me another encouraging wiggle. I gave her what she was angling for, the sharp slap producing a high-pitched “ooh!” and a sly smile over her shoulder. “Oh, you like that,” I asked, for..some reason, rather akin to asking if the sky was blue. “Arch it up for me.” She did as instructed. “Well, far be it from me to keep you from something you enjoy!” And with that, I began spanking her like her ass was on its last day before the expiration date. “Ooh! Oh ohh! Ooh oww!” Her delicious yelps were getting louder and more frequent now. But even as her legs began to kick, she kept her reddening bottom arched for me as I gave her what she asked for. I rained down hard, fast swats, covering every inch from tailbone to her upper thighs. “Owww!! Ohh oh shit owww!” She was yelping and squirming with every swat now as my hand focused on where she'd feel it when she sat. (I'm nothing if not thorough, after all.) Ten swats on the left, ten on the right. Repeat. Repeat again. Yelping. Kicking. One last long round ending with a good solid SMACK across the middle of her now-very-hot ass. She was sniffling, but smiling as I began rubbing her red bottom. As my hands tended to her back and bottom, I felt her relax into my lap. Her breathing calmed, and she purred a contented purr. “Mmm...thank you so much,” she murmurred, and I felt her hug my legs. “Thank YOU, Jackie,” I replied as I pulled her up into a hug. “I think I like Las Vegas Style.” I've made some more of her orders “Las Vegas Style” since. It's a very versatile style that goes with any type of food, although oddly enough we haven't had it with an actual rump roast yet. If only this town had a Cracker Barrel...
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