Saturday, November 11, 2006
The Third Spanko
For those of you who have followed this blog from the beginning, you will recall I had mentioned that my oldest daughter, Maribel, has inherited a proclivity towards spanking from her parents. Angela and I have concluded that this must be a genetic trait, since 1) we never spanked Maribel when she was young, and 2) we’ve never mentioned to her that we are spankos. Being a family who, besides the spanking, doesn’t have many secrets, we learned of her inclination because she confided it to us.
It was the Christmas break of Maribel’s sophomore year at college, during that lull between Christmas and New Years. Both Angela and I did not have to work during the interval, so we were sitting in the living room in front of a roaring fire watching “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” for the umpteenth time on DVD (we also own two different versions of the movie on VHS as well as a couple copies taped during rare television broadcasts of this classic flick). Maribel wandered into the room and kind of hovered around the edges, seemingly in indecision. After a moment, she made her way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She seemed to contemplate what she wanted for quite a long time, but I paid it no mind as I am not one of those parents who is constantly whining to “close that damn refrigerator or you’ll let out all of the cold! It costs money to run the refrigerator!”
At last she made her selection, closed the fridge, and appeared to head back to her room. Then she paused, turned towards us, started to say something, then thought better of it and turned to leave again. Angela, being more in tune to female indecisiveness than I, put the movie on “pause” and called out to her, “Is there something that you’d like to talk about, hon?”
“Well….” Maribel replied. She thought a second and then came over to us and sat down. “Mom and Dad, I need to talk to you guys.”
Now, for those of you who have teenaged or college-aged daughters, what is the absolute most feared thing that you can hear your daughter utter? (No, it is not “I’m running away to Seattle to work for Microsoft!) While I hadn’t had official confirmation, I strongly suspected that my eldest daughter was sexual active, based on some of the quiet conversations she and Angela had when they knew that I was out of earshot. Angela and I, both having the same fear, blurted out in unison, “Oh my god, you’re pregnant!”
Maribel actually laughed at this. “Oh, pul-ease! No, I’m not pregnant!”
Angela and I both expressed considerable relief. Angela urged Maribel to continue.
“Well,” she started. “Now, you guys might think I’m weird.” I suppressed a chuckle. Wouldn’t it be funny, I thought, if my daughter turned out to be a spanko.
She continued. “You see, me and my boyfriend… well … he’s not hurting me, but, um, this was my idea. It was something that I’ve always wanted to try.”
“You’re not taking drugs, are you, Maribel?” Angela asked, sternly.
“Now, darling,” I said to my wife, “Maribel is and adult, and we’ve always trusted her judgment. I think we should let her finish. Go ahead, Maribel, tell us what you wanted to say.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” she said. “Okay. Well, you see, I guess, um, I kinda … gosh, this is really hard.”
Angela and I remained silent and allowed her to continue her confession.
“Well, I let my boyfriend spank me! And I really liked it!”
If you know what a spit-take is, you’ll be able to visualize my reaction. I somehow never expected to hear that!
“Oh my god!” Maribel exclaimed, “You guys think I’m a sicko!”
When I had regained my wits and wiped off my glasses, I gave my response. “My dear daughter,” I began, “We don’t think you’re sick or weird or anything like that. Some people have certain, er, shall we say, sexual interests. As long as it is consensual, discreet, and as long as you two have an understanding of what your limits are, then if you and your gentleman suitor enjoy spanking, you should feel free experiment. I’m sure your mother feels the same as I do.” Angela, somewhat red of face, nodded her assent.
Maribel naturally was quite relieved. She proceeded to pour out a whole string of questions, but before I could say anything more, Angela got up and guided our daughter into another room where they could share some “girl talk.”
When Angela returned about an hour later, I asked her if she had told Maribel of our spanking proclivities. “Fuck no,” she replied. “What, you want her to think that her parents are weird or something?”
“Well, my darling, for raising your daughter to be a spanko, when we have some quiet time, I’m going to have to give you a good spanking!”
Angela laughed and replied, “My daughter? You’re the father! The oldest daughter always belongs to the father!” Now we were both laughing.
The discussion of the subsequent spankings will have to wait for another day. For some reason, I was terribly relieved that Angela had not shared our preference for the corporal arts with our daughter. It took me a while to figure out why. I eventually decided that there are just some things, things that go on behind closed doors, in the dark, and most likely in the nude, that are best left untold to anyone, let alone ones offspring. I don’t share gory details of my sex life with friends, so I’m certainly not going to tell them to my children. I’d be afraid that knowing their parents had sex would give them nightmares!
I was, perhaps, somewhat more concerned about the fact that it was, by now, pretty obvious to me that Maribel was, indeed, engaging in sexual pleasures with the afore-mentioned boyfriend. One reads too many stories of how high-school and college males unscrupulously, and often dangerously, attempt to convince the young ladies to engage in intercourse with them. However, Maribel is a pretty assertive person, and has demonstrated in the past that she can handle difficult situations. She is not a tiny person, standing about 6 feet tall. And, from my experiences, it is nearly impossible to get Maribel to do anything in which she does not prefer.
Still, I continue to work through the fact that my oldest daughter is a spanko. I do not think it is a bad thing. Although I may one day, for now, I’m not quite sure if it is fantastic.
It was the Christmas break of Maribel’s sophomore year at college, during that lull between Christmas and New Years. Both Angela and I did not have to work during the interval, so we were sitting in the living room in front of a roaring fire watching “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” for the umpteenth time on DVD (we also own two different versions of the movie on VHS as well as a couple copies taped during rare television broadcasts of this classic flick). Maribel wandered into the room and kind of hovered around the edges, seemingly in indecision. After a moment, she made her way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She seemed to contemplate what she wanted for quite a long time, but I paid it no mind as I am not one of those parents who is constantly whining to “close that damn refrigerator or you’ll let out all of the cold! It costs money to run the refrigerator!”
At last she made her selection, closed the fridge, and appeared to head back to her room. Then she paused, turned towards us, started to say something, then thought better of it and turned to leave again. Angela, being more in tune to female indecisiveness than I, put the movie on “pause” and called out to her, “Is there something that you’d like to talk about, hon?”
“Well….” Maribel replied. She thought a second and then came over to us and sat down. “Mom and Dad, I need to talk to you guys.”
Now, for those of you who have teenaged or college-aged daughters, what is the absolute most feared thing that you can hear your daughter utter? (No, it is not “I’m running away to Seattle to work for Microsoft!) While I hadn’t had official confirmation, I strongly suspected that my eldest daughter was sexual active, based on some of the quiet conversations she and Angela had when they knew that I was out of earshot. Angela and I, both having the same fear, blurted out in unison, “Oh my god, you’re pregnant!”
Maribel actually laughed at this. “Oh, pul-ease! No, I’m not pregnant!”
Angela and I both expressed considerable relief. Angela urged Maribel to continue.
“Well,” she started. “Now, you guys might think I’m weird.” I suppressed a chuckle. Wouldn’t it be funny, I thought, if my daughter turned out to be a spanko.
She continued. “You see, me and my boyfriend… well … he’s not hurting me, but, um, this was my idea. It was something that I’ve always wanted to try.”
“You’re not taking drugs, are you, Maribel?” Angela asked, sternly.
“Now, darling,” I said to my wife, “Maribel is and adult, and we’ve always trusted her judgment. I think we should let her finish. Go ahead, Maribel, tell us what you wanted to say.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” she said. “Okay. Well, you see, I guess, um, I kinda … gosh, this is really hard.”
Angela and I remained silent and allowed her to continue her confession.
“Well, I let my boyfriend spank me! And I really liked it!”
If you know what a spit-take is, you’ll be able to visualize my reaction. I somehow never expected to hear that!
“Oh my god!” Maribel exclaimed, “You guys think I’m a sicko!”
When I had regained my wits and wiped off my glasses, I gave my response. “My dear daughter,” I began, “We don’t think you’re sick or weird or anything like that. Some people have certain, er, shall we say, sexual interests. As long as it is consensual, discreet, and as long as you two have an understanding of what your limits are, then if you and your gentleman suitor enjoy spanking, you should feel free experiment. I’m sure your mother feels the same as I do.” Angela, somewhat red of face, nodded her assent.
Maribel naturally was quite relieved. She proceeded to pour out a whole string of questions, but before I could say anything more, Angela got up and guided our daughter into another room where they could share some “girl talk.”
When Angela returned about an hour later, I asked her if she had told Maribel of our spanking proclivities. “Fuck no,” she replied. “What, you want her to think that her parents are weird or something?”
“Well, my darling, for raising your daughter to be a spanko, when we have some quiet time, I’m going to have to give you a good spanking!”
Angela laughed and replied, “My daughter? You’re the father! The oldest daughter always belongs to the father!” Now we were both laughing.
The discussion of the subsequent spankings will have to wait for another day. For some reason, I was terribly relieved that Angela had not shared our preference for the corporal arts with our daughter. It took me a while to figure out why. I eventually decided that there are just some things, things that go on behind closed doors, in the dark, and most likely in the nude, that are best left untold to anyone, let alone ones offspring. I don’t share gory details of my sex life with friends, so I’m certainly not going to tell them to my children. I’d be afraid that knowing their parents had sex would give them nightmares!
I was, perhaps, somewhat more concerned about the fact that it was, by now, pretty obvious to me that Maribel was, indeed, engaging in sexual pleasures with the afore-mentioned boyfriend. One reads too many stories of how high-school and college males unscrupulously, and often dangerously, attempt to convince the young ladies to engage in intercourse with them. However, Maribel is a pretty assertive person, and has demonstrated in the past that she can handle difficult situations. She is not a tiny person, standing about 6 feet tall. And, from my experiences, it is nearly impossible to get Maribel to do anything in which she does not prefer.
Still, I continue to work through the fact that my oldest daughter is a spanko. I do not think it is a bad thing. Although I may one day, for now, I’m not quite sure if it is fantastic.
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OUr daughter is a teen now and Yet it might feel a little strange I wouldn't be suprised. I just recently found out that my own mom loved being spanked to a certian degree. Bravo for you to encourage your daughter to explore her sexual self.
Hugs and thanks for posting
LISA
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Hugs and thanks for posting
LISA
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