Sunday, May 06, 2007
One Way To Spend A Friday Night
My friends, the evening that Angela and I spent alone in this big, old house has come and gone. Colette returned Saturday afternoon, stating that she had the most wonderful time spending the night at the home of her friend, Michelle. They apparently spend the time chatting, eating junk food, and watching scary movies. I must admit that I was of a most elevated mood, having spent the evening engaging in my favorite hobby with my favorite wife. And I have a bruised tushie to show for it (although I did not share any of that with Colette).
When I returned to monitoring my little online diary, I was surprised to find an outpouring of curiosity from my loyal readers, wanting me to share the events of that most pleasant night. My comment box was inundated with requests for details. By inundated, I mean that one person asked for me to elaborate.
This put me into something of a quandary. Does that mean that the remaining thousands … er … hundreds … er … seven or eight readers did not care for me to describe more fully how Angela and I spent Friday night? Does it mean that those non-commenters simply assume that I will elaborate? Should I, therefore, choose not to share the details, thus leaving them to your imagination (since, after all, I am imaginary)?
I decided that, to be fair to the kind person who did opt to ask for more, that I would chronicle Friday's events and send them off via email. Unfortunately, I was not able to ascertain the person’s email address from their comment. Thus, as a reward to the gentle commenter, and a gift to the rest of you, I will now let all of you in on how what actually occurred Friday night.
Michelle and her mom picked Colette up a touch after 7 pm. No sooner had the door shut when Angela headed for the bedroom. “Let’s go, buster,” she called to me, grinning.
“But, my love, Colette has barely cleared the driveway. Perhaps we should wait a few minutes just in the off chance that she forgot something and feels the need to return.”
“Don’t worry. I told her if she forgot something, to call us on her cell phone and we’d bring it over.”
“Colette doesn’t have a cell phone.”
“I gave her yours.” Although I will likely not see my phone again until June, and may get a bill for it just slightly smaller than the national debt, I had to admire Angela’s planning.
When I reached the bedroom, Angela was holding a school-type paddle, one that I have fond memories of. She tapped it on her hand, expectantly. I returned her smile, rubbed my hands together in delight, and then turned around, dropped my drawers, and “assumed the position.” Angela wasted no time in heating up my seat.
After my initial warming, I chose a round, ping-pong-style paddle and returned the favor on Angela’s lovely behind.
We retired to the den, sans pants, and cuddled up on the sofa to watch some television. Angela had brought with her a nice, wooden hairbrush and a very heavy Amish wooden spoon. While perusing the rather weak television fare, we took turns crawling over each other’s lap and paddling each other’s buns. I should mention that there was also a considerable amount of rubbing and squeezing of buns. I should, but I won’t.
Around 9:30-ish, with our bottoms nicely glowing, Angela and I got up from the sofa. I went to fetch some refreshments. When I returned, Angela appeared with a couple of leather spanking implements (a strap and a paddle) and a deck of cards. For the next hour or so we played a rousing game of Spank The Middle. It is a simple game, where one player deals two cards face up on the table. The other player tries to guess whether the value of the next card is or is not between the first two. If that player is correct, they get to spank the dealer once for each point that the third is off from the closer of the first two. If the player is incorrect, they get spanked by the dealer. For example, let’s say that the dealer lays down a five and a jack, and the player feels that the next card will be between said five and jack. If the next card is, say, an eight, he would get to give the dealer three swats. If the card is a three, the dealer would spank the player two swats. There are other quaint rules that I shall not go into for the sake of time, such as what happens of the dealer turns up a pair.
At this point, I find myself tiring. Even an imaginary spanko needs his sleep, especially after such a delightful weekend. However, I will be most pleased to resume this commentary on the morrow.
When I returned to monitoring my little online diary, I was surprised to find an outpouring of curiosity from my loyal readers, wanting me to share the events of that most pleasant night. My comment box was inundated with requests for details. By inundated, I mean that one person asked for me to elaborate.
This put me into something of a quandary. Does that mean that the remaining thousands … er … hundreds … er … seven or eight readers did not care for me to describe more fully how Angela and I spent Friday night? Does it mean that those non-commenters simply assume that I will elaborate? Should I, therefore, choose not to share the details, thus leaving them to your imagination (since, after all, I am imaginary)?
I decided that, to be fair to the kind person who did opt to ask for more, that I would chronicle Friday's events and send them off via email. Unfortunately, I was not able to ascertain the person’s email address from their comment. Thus, as a reward to the gentle commenter, and a gift to the rest of you, I will now let all of you in on how what actually occurred Friday night.
Michelle and her mom picked Colette up a touch after 7 pm. No sooner had the door shut when Angela headed for the bedroom. “Let’s go, buster,” she called to me, grinning.
“But, my love, Colette has barely cleared the driveway. Perhaps we should wait a few minutes just in the off chance that she forgot something and feels the need to return.”
“Don’t worry. I told her if she forgot something, to call us on her cell phone and we’d bring it over.”
“Colette doesn’t have a cell phone.”
“I gave her yours.” Although I will likely not see my phone again until June, and may get a bill for it just slightly smaller than the national debt, I had to admire Angela’s planning.
When I reached the bedroom, Angela was holding a school-type paddle, one that I have fond memories of. She tapped it on her hand, expectantly. I returned her smile, rubbed my hands together in delight, and then turned around, dropped my drawers, and “assumed the position.” Angela wasted no time in heating up my seat.
After my initial warming, I chose a round, ping-pong-style paddle and returned the favor on Angela’s lovely behind.
We retired to the den, sans pants, and cuddled up on the sofa to watch some television. Angela had brought with her a nice, wooden hairbrush and a very heavy Amish wooden spoon. While perusing the rather weak television fare, we took turns crawling over each other’s lap and paddling each other’s buns. I should mention that there was also a considerable amount of rubbing and squeezing of buns. I should, but I won’t.
Around 9:30-ish, with our bottoms nicely glowing, Angela and I got up from the sofa. I went to fetch some refreshments. When I returned, Angela appeared with a couple of leather spanking implements (a strap and a paddle) and a deck of cards. For the next hour or so we played a rousing game of Spank The Middle. It is a simple game, where one player deals two cards face up on the table. The other player tries to guess whether the value of the next card is or is not between the first two. If that player is correct, they get to spank the dealer once for each point that the third is off from the closer of the first two. If the player is incorrect, they get spanked by the dealer. For example, let’s say that the dealer lays down a five and a jack, and the player feels that the next card will be between said five and jack. If the next card is, say, an eight, he would get to give the dealer three swats. If the card is a three, the dealer would spank the player two swats. There are other quaint rules that I shall not go into for the sake of time, such as what happens of the dealer turns up a pair.
At this point, I find myself tiring. Even an imaginary spanko needs his sleep, especially after such a delightful weekend. However, I will be most pleased to resume this commentary on the morrow.
Comments:
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So considerate of your daughter to spend the night away from home! The card game sounds like a lot of fun!!
Hugs,
Kallisto
Hugs,
Kallisto
Frank, sounds like a wonderful Friday evening. Cindy and I have just started spanking back and forth in the same session within the past year. It can be loads of fun when we both want a warm achy bottom, and there's not punishment to be dealt out for her!
Dave
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Dave
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