Saturday, May 26, 2007
Frank's Discomfort
I recently had a very unpleasant picture pop into my head. Please allow me to explain.
A short while ago, a fellow spanko blogger related that her young daughter had asked what all of the smacking noise was that was coming from their bedroom one evening. The lady and her husband explained that they were “playing a game” that involved “spanking.” After getting answers to some questions of clarification, the tike seemed satisfied.
Through a good deal of advanced planning and some sheer luck, neither of our daughters has ever barged in on my beautiful wife and myself engaging in marital entertainment. Nor have they ever heard us spanking each other, or at least that is what I assume since they have never inquired as to strange noises coming from the two of us.
I was reflecting on this as I read the item that I related in the opening paragraph. My thoughts wandered back to my youth, and I wondered what I would have done as a tot if I had heard my father spanking my mother, or vice versa. That caused the picture to arrive into my imagination (yes, even imaginary spankos have imaginations) of my parents engaged in a spanking. Not a playful swat on the seat of one’s pants or skirt, but a spanking like Angela and I usually prefer, which involves multiple implements, nakedness, and stimulation of erogenous zones big and small. So I saw, in my mind, my mother, in the nude, bent over and awaiting a good swat from a paddle from my also-nude father, and the playfulness that would likely ensue.
Eww.
Maybe it was that I was raised in the 60’s and 70’s to parents who missed the sexual revolution, but I find the thought of my parents having sex absolutely revolting. Now, I know they had sex at least three times as I have a brother and a sister. And we did, on occasion, with our parents, discuss the various aspects of sexual activity, from the physical to the emotional. My parents were openly fond of each other, frequently exchanging hugs and kisses or holding hands. And, once and a while, I would awake in the middle of the night with an urge to relieve myself and notice their bedroom door closed (it was normally about half-open when they were asleep). When I was old enough, I knew that the door wasn’t closed because they wanted to keep the exterior noise out, but because they wanted to keep the interior noise in.
But the thought of my parents groping, sweating, panting, groaning, etc., is not something I care to dwell on. They are my parents, after all.
As I’m sure by reading this little journal of mine you have ascertained, I am not a prude by any means. Consenting adults, even young ones, can have as much sex as they’d like. I do not object to the fact that my oldest daughter is sexually active, even though the thought of my little girl having sex makes me a little squeamish. Angela and I had sex before we were married, after we were married, and all of the time in between. We have openly discussed our sex lives with other people. We are practically liberated.
But I prefer to pretend that my parents never have sex. I guess I’m just funny that way.
When I related this to my far better half, she did not think that it was terribly awful. “They’re adults,” she responded. “They should have as much sex as they want, and have fun doing it.”
So I asked her to picture her parents engaged in coupling.
“I don’t need to,” she replied. “My parents never have sex.”
I left the discussion at that. I like believing that Angela was either artificially, or perhaps immaculately, conceived.
After all, she is pretty special. No, make that she is rather fantastic.
A short while ago, a fellow spanko blogger related that her young daughter had asked what all of the smacking noise was that was coming from their bedroom one evening. The lady and her husband explained that they were “playing a game” that involved “spanking.” After getting answers to some questions of clarification, the tike seemed satisfied.
Through a good deal of advanced planning and some sheer luck, neither of our daughters has ever barged in on my beautiful wife and myself engaging in marital entertainment. Nor have they ever heard us spanking each other, or at least that is what I assume since they have never inquired as to strange noises coming from the two of us.
I was reflecting on this as I read the item that I related in the opening paragraph. My thoughts wandered back to my youth, and I wondered what I would have done as a tot if I had heard my father spanking my mother, or vice versa. That caused the picture to arrive into my imagination (yes, even imaginary spankos have imaginations) of my parents engaged in a spanking. Not a playful swat on the seat of one’s pants or skirt, but a spanking like Angela and I usually prefer, which involves multiple implements, nakedness, and stimulation of erogenous zones big and small. So I saw, in my mind, my mother, in the nude, bent over and awaiting a good swat from a paddle from my also-nude father, and the playfulness that would likely ensue.
Eww.
Maybe it was that I was raised in the 60’s and 70’s to parents who missed the sexual revolution, but I find the thought of my parents having sex absolutely revolting. Now, I know they had sex at least three times as I have a brother and a sister. And we did, on occasion, with our parents, discuss the various aspects of sexual activity, from the physical to the emotional. My parents were openly fond of each other, frequently exchanging hugs and kisses or holding hands. And, once and a while, I would awake in the middle of the night with an urge to relieve myself and notice their bedroom door closed (it was normally about half-open when they were asleep). When I was old enough, I knew that the door wasn’t closed because they wanted to keep the exterior noise out, but because they wanted to keep the interior noise in.
But the thought of my parents groping, sweating, panting, groaning, etc., is not something I care to dwell on. They are my parents, after all.
As I’m sure by reading this little journal of mine you have ascertained, I am not a prude by any means. Consenting adults, even young ones, can have as much sex as they’d like. I do not object to the fact that my oldest daughter is sexually active, even though the thought of my little girl having sex makes me a little squeamish. Angela and I had sex before we were married, after we were married, and all of the time in between. We have openly discussed our sex lives with other people. We are practically liberated.
But I prefer to pretend that my parents never have sex. I guess I’m just funny that way.
When I related this to my far better half, she did not think that it was terribly awful. “They’re adults,” she responded. “They should have as much sex as they want, and have fun doing it.”
So I asked her to picture her parents engaged in coupling.
“I don’t need to,” she replied. “My parents never have sex.”
I left the discussion at that. I like believing that Angela was either artificially, or perhaps immaculately, conceived.
After all, she is pretty special. No, make that she is rather fantastic.
