Thursday, November 30, 2006
The Gin Game, or Why I'm Not A Con Spanko
At the time that these events allegedly occurred, Angela and I had been together for several months, although not yet engaged. We were still exploring the spanking part of our relationship. We knew that we were both interested in the fine art of spanking, both giving and receiving, but we were still trying to find out the limit. Our spankings had increased moderately in length and intensity, and we had experimented with a couple of implements, but, otherwise, we were moving forward at quite a cautious pace.
It was a Saturday evening in the fall. We had spent the day watching football and playing basketball. Angela’s friend and roommate, Bernie, had gone out for the evening with her girlfriend, so we were lazing around the house that Angela and Bernie were renting. We decided that, to pass the time, we would play the card game commonly known as Gin Rummy.
During my younger days, it was something of a weekend tradition in my house that my Grandfather would visit (my Grandmother had passed away at this point) on Sunday. We would enjoy a nice dinner and some conversation, and them my dad, Grandfather, brother, and I would retire to a rousing game of Gin. So I always considered myself a somewhat advanced player. Angela had professed to little more to a passing familiarity with the game, so we thought it might be fun if I showed her some of the finer points.
I won the first few hands fairly easily, although Angela was rather proficient for a relative novice. When she was comfortable with the play, we decided to keep score. As an aside, I suggested that we put a small, non-monetary wager on the game, such as a back-rub or a homemade meal. Angela found the idea to be acceptable, but then she suggested that the stakes be in the form of a spanking. Naturally, I heartily agreed.
Angela played well, but my experience still led me to victory. So I took Angela over my lap and gave her a nice, firm spanking with my hand over her sweat pants. It wasn’t my hardest spanking, but I still used considerable vigor, and she wiggled and squealed pleasantly.
Upon dismounting my lap, Angela insisted on a rematch. I agreed, but suggested that we increase the stakes. The loser’s spanking would be on the bare bottom.
Again I was victorious, although it was a very close game, going down to the last hand. I briefly considered allowing her to win that hand, but my competitiveness overcame my desire to be spanked. Angela’s sweats came down to her ankles and I bent her over the table. Then I proceeded to thoroughly warm her fine fanny from stem to stern. If she came up from the table, I’d hit her harder. When I concluded, her bottom was quite red, but I could tell by her giggling that she had not found the experience unpleasant.
I inquired of Angela if she cared to continue playing. Somewhat surprisingly, she agreed. And she added that we would play for the same stakes. Indeed, since I had yet to lose, Angela suggested, that, should I fail to win, that my spanking could be over my pants so as to be somewhat less than what she would endure if she were to lose again. I had no problem with this plan.
The game was again a close one. We were nearing the end and the score was nearly tied. It would take one hand, two at the most, to determine the victor. As I was shuffling and preparing to deal the next hand, Angela had another thought.
“Why don’t we raise the stakes?” she suggested. I was interested, so Angela scurried off and quickly returned with a fine, wooden hair brush. The very sight of this classic implement set my loins atwitter. I began to imagine her terrific tushy over my lap with me holding the hairbrush. I would rub her already-tender buttocks with the flat of the brush and tease her by telling her how she had earned such a good spanking. Then I would hold forth and whack her buns to my hearts content. Naturally, I agreed to add the hairbrush to the game. In retrospect, this was the first bad decision I made that evening.
Hugs and thanks for the new spanking games.
~Todd & Suzy
Too bad you'll never know the real feeling of a woman's firm supple bare bottom under your imaginary hand. (deep sigh) But please don't stop sharing your fantasy world. It's ALMOST (smiles) as much fun as the real thing!
It was part one.
More to come.
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