Sunday, August 26, 2007
Vacation Distraction
At the conclusion of my last entry, I mentioned that I was sure Angela was planning more devious activities during the week that our children were away visiting their grandparents in Florida. As you will see in the upcoming paragraphs, I was correct.
Most of Wednesday went fairly routinely. I was planning on taking the following two days off from work so that Angela and I could take a day trip or two, so I had a fair number of items to deal with before the end of the day. Angela had some errands to run, so she was not present from mid-morning until late afternoon. When she returned, I helped her bring in some bags of her purchases from the car, at which point she announced that she was going to “get out of these icky clothes” once she had finished putting her purchases away. I mentioned that I had another dreaded conference call, and then I would probably be finished for the day.
Angela seemed to be taking a long time, but I didn’t give it much thought until my conference call began. At that time, Angela appeared in my office, still wearing her “icky clothes.” I was going to mention that she hadn’t changed them, but the call had already begun and, unfortunately, my office phone does not have a “mute” button (a careless omission on my part). As it was a hot day, Angela had brought me a tall glass of iced oolong tea as well as one for herself. She then sat down and made herself comfortable on the small sofa that I keep in my office for when I need to do some “major thinking” (translation” take a nap).
The call went on uneventfully for a few minutes. I heard Angela get up and move towards the door. I thought that she had perhaps gotten bored would be off to find something more productive to do. I was wrong. Or perhaps I was not. In either event, she stopped at the door, turned around, and began to slowly and artfully disrobe. First her shirt. Then her pants. Then a stretch and a fake yawn. Then her bra. Then a small pirouette for my benefit. Finally her panties, which she left in a pile at the doorway. Angela than proceeded languorously to the sofa and began to masturbate.
To say that this proved to be a distraction would be an understatement. Since Angela can sometimes be rather vocal in the throes of passion, I became concerned that her moans and cries might be overheard by those on the other end of my phone line. I tried to silently urge her to cease, or at least postpone her enjoyment until the call had concluded, but she simply ignored me. She did keep the volume of her moans to something fairly low, loud enough so that they could be heard by me but likely not by the others on the phone. To keep me on edge, though, she would amplify her pleasure a tad a few times.
When the call ended, I quickly disconnected and turned to her. I was not pleased. “Get up!” I ordered. She gave me that “innocent” look that she used when she knew that she’d annoyed me but wanted to pretend she hadn’t done anything at all. I pulled from my desk a small but sturdy paddle that I keep there for “emergencies” such as this. I seated myself on the sofa, pulled her across my lap, and proceeded to give her bare hide a good, hard tanning.
Angela wiggled and squealed during her paddling. After a good two or three minutes, I let her up, at which time she pretended to be taken aback. Naturally, I knew better. While she stood there rubbing her backside, I briefly lectured her on her risky and recalcitrant behavior. She stuck out her lower lip and pouted, then gave me her best fake apology.
I told her that I didn’t think she’d learned her lesson, and ordered her back to the sofa, this time on her hands and knees. “Now,” I told her, “get back to what you were doing.”
“Huh?” she responded.
“Get back to what you were doing while I was on the phone, dammit!”
Realization hit her, and she smiled. Then she reached a hand down between her legs and resumed her self-stimulation.
I resumed spanking her, slowly and fairly hard, whilst she pleasured herself. When she began to respond more loudly, I increased the intensity of the swats. I made sure to cover her entire bottom with crisp whacks, making sure the sides of her arse as well as the curve where her bottom meets her thighs were all properly reddened. As she neared orgasm, I sped up so that the swats were hard and rapid-fire, until she collapsed, moaning loudly, in the throes of ecstasy.
“You’re a bad man,” she told me when she had recovered her breath.
“Well, you’re a bad woman,” I responded, “and you only got what you deserved.”
“Not yet,” she said with a wide grin, and she started quickly working to remove my clothing. When that was accomplished, she resumed kneeling on the sofa, at which time I proceeded to give her what else she deserved, or something like that.
Our town has a minor league baseball team, so when we had recovered, we attended that night’s game, and grabbed a late dinner. There were more spankings and … ahem … other stuff before we retired for the night, to build up strength for our visit to The Big City the next day. Not surprisingly, we both slept well. And why not. It had been another fantastic day, and the next promised to be fantastic as well.
Most of Wednesday went fairly routinely. I was planning on taking the following two days off from work so that Angela and I could take a day trip or two, so I had a fair number of items to deal with before the end of the day. Angela had some errands to run, so she was not present from mid-morning until late afternoon. When she returned, I helped her bring in some bags of her purchases from the car, at which point she announced that she was going to “get out of these icky clothes” once she had finished putting her purchases away. I mentioned that I had another dreaded conference call, and then I would probably be finished for the day.
Angela seemed to be taking a long time, but I didn’t give it much thought until my conference call began. At that time, Angela appeared in my office, still wearing her “icky clothes.” I was going to mention that she hadn’t changed them, but the call had already begun and, unfortunately, my office phone does not have a “mute” button (a careless omission on my part). As it was a hot day, Angela had brought me a tall glass of iced oolong tea as well as one for herself. She then sat down and made herself comfortable on the small sofa that I keep in my office for when I need to do some “major thinking” (translation” take a nap).
The call went on uneventfully for a few minutes. I heard Angela get up and move towards the door. I thought that she had perhaps gotten bored would be off to find something more productive to do. I was wrong. Or perhaps I was not. In either event, she stopped at the door, turned around, and began to slowly and artfully disrobe. First her shirt. Then her pants. Then a stretch and a fake yawn. Then her bra. Then a small pirouette for my benefit. Finally her panties, which she left in a pile at the doorway. Angela than proceeded languorously to the sofa and began to masturbate.
To say that this proved to be a distraction would be an understatement. Since Angela can sometimes be rather vocal in the throes of passion, I became concerned that her moans and cries might be overheard by those on the other end of my phone line. I tried to silently urge her to cease, or at least postpone her enjoyment until the call had concluded, but she simply ignored me. She did keep the volume of her moans to something fairly low, loud enough so that they could be heard by me but likely not by the others on the phone. To keep me on edge, though, she would amplify her pleasure a tad a few times.
When the call ended, I quickly disconnected and turned to her. I was not pleased. “Get up!” I ordered. She gave me that “innocent” look that she used when she knew that she’d annoyed me but wanted to pretend she hadn’t done anything at all. I pulled from my desk a small but sturdy paddle that I keep there for “emergencies” such as this. I seated myself on the sofa, pulled her across my lap, and proceeded to give her bare hide a good, hard tanning.
Angela wiggled and squealed during her paddling. After a good two or three minutes, I let her up, at which time she pretended to be taken aback. Naturally, I knew better. While she stood there rubbing her backside, I briefly lectured her on her risky and recalcitrant behavior. She stuck out her lower lip and pouted, then gave me her best fake apology.
I told her that I didn’t think she’d learned her lesson, and ordered her back to the sofa, this time on her hands and knees. “Now,” I told her, “get back to what you were doing.”
“Huh?” she responded.
“Get back to what you were doing while I was on the phone, dammit!”
Realization hit her, and she smiled. Then she reached a hand down between her legs and resumed her self-stimulation.
I resumed spanking her, slowly and fairly hard, whilst she pleasured herself. When she began to respond more loudly, I increased the intensity of the swats. I made sure to cover her entire bottom with crisp whacks, making sure the sides of her arse as well as the curve where her bottom meets her thighs were all properly reddened. As she neared orgasm, I sped up so that the swats were hard and rapid-fire, until she collapsed, moaning loudly, in the throes of ecstasy.
“You’re a bad man,” she told me when she had recovered her breath.
“Well, you’re a bad woman,” I responded, “and you only got what you deserved.”
“Not yet,” she said with a wide grin, and she started quickly working to remove my clothing. When that was accomplished, she resumed kneeling on the sofa, at which time I proceeded to give her what else she deserved, or something like that.
Our town has a minor league baseball team, so when we had recovered, we attended that night’s game, and grabbed a late dinner. There were more spankings and … ahem … other stuff before we retired for the night, to build up strength for our visit to The Big City the next day. Not surprisingly, we both slept well. And why not. It had been another fantastic day, and the next promised to be fantastic as well.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
More Tales From Vacation
Please enjoy as I continue to describe events during the vacation that Angela and I recently enjoyed. For those of you who are just tuning in, our vacation consisted of sending our two daughters, Maribel and Colette, to visit their grandparents in Florida, thus having the house to ourselves so that we could do any spanking thing we wished.
Monday, Angela paddled me before breakfast, caned me before lunch, and gave me a fabulous strapping after dinner. The strapping was her way of saying thanks to me for making a fabulous dinner (spaghetti marinara with fresh tomatoes, peppers and zucchini grown in our garden). In return, she laid over my lap most of the evening so that I could spank her with a hairbrush while we watched baseball. There was more paddling before bedtime so that we could take our slumber with toasty red bottoms.
Tuesday was more of the same. In the late morning I was scheduled to attend a conference call. Angela came in a few minutes before the call and had me remove my pants. She had brought with her a decorative toilet plunger. This one has a clear, plastic handle and fancy little nubs at the end. She took a tube of lubricant and applied it to the handle, then had me get down on my knees. After delivering about two dozen swats with a hairbrush to my backside, she inserted the handle of the plunger into my rectal region and placed the other end on the floor. Then she had me slide myself up and down the handle whilst I was on the phone. It was wonderfully naughty.
That evening we had dinner at a fine little local restaurant, then viewed a screening of that cinematic classic, The Simpson’s Movie. Afterward, we picked up some ice cream, got naked, and sat snuggling on the couch, enjoying our dessert. It was nearing midnight, so I announced that I was going to make my way to the bedroom and invited her to join me, hint, hint. She indicated that she would, but wanted to take care of something first. I was intrigued.
Perhaps a quarter of an hour later, she called for me to take a look at something with her. When I came out, she had wrapped herself in a blanket, and said that she wanted me to look at the moon and stars with her. It sounded romantic, so I grabbed a robe and followed.
We live on a 2 and one half acre lot. On two sides, there is an upscale housing development, and on the other is a church with a fairly large tract of land and parking lot. About half of our property that is not covered by house, garage, or shed is wooded. The remainder is what passes for lawn, so that, when they were younger, the girls could have considerable room to play, or dad could organize a football game. We walked to the middle of the lawn and sat down. Abruptly, Angela rose and asked me to wait while she disappeared into the woods. When she returned, she asked if I “heard that?” I indicated that I had not heard anything.
“Good!” she replied. Apparently, she had gone to the end of our property and clapped her hands. Since I did not hear her clap, she surmised, then, if she were to spank me right there in the yard, it was likely that no one who lived in the vicinity would be able to hear that. She shed the blanket, revealing what she was wearing underneath, which was nothing, and also that she was carrying a wooden hairbrush. She spread the blanket out, then sat down and ordered me to lose my robe and lay across her lap.
The spanking that she gave me was long and luscious. I did not care whether or not anyone could hear, and I actually found the thought of someone spying on us to be exciting. When my spanking was concluded, I rolled off of Angela’s lap and she rolled onto me, where we were able to engage in some sexual enjoyment.
Despite retiring late, I arose early the next morning, my bottom still warm and tingly. I made breakfast, then woke my darling wife so she could enjoy it with me. Afterwards, Angela announced that she was going to take a nice, long, hot bath. Before she did so, however, I found the hairbrush and paddled her fine bottom for “engaging in such risky behavior” the previous evening. I knew that she enjoyed a nice, hot bottom with her nice, hot bath.
After she ran her bath, I took a quick shower and started working. It was difficult to concentrate, however, because I knew that she was planning more spanking activities for the day. I could still feel the effects of the previous two days, but I was curious as my wife has a devious mind. Of course, my mind is pretty devious, too, so I was planning some activities of my own. Indeed, it was turning out to be a fantastic vacation, and it was to get better.
Monday, Angela paddled me before breakfast, caned me before lunch, and gave me a fabulous strapping after dinner. The strapping was her way of saying thanks to me for making a fabulous dinner (spaghetti marinara with fresh tomatoes, peppers and zucchini grown in our garden). In return, she laid over my lap most of the evening so that I could spank her with a hairbrush while we watched baseball. There was more paddling before bedtime so that we could take our slumber with toasty red bottoms.
Tuesday was more of the same. In the late morning I was scheduled to attend a conference call. Angela came in a few minutes before the call and had me remove my pants. She had brought with her a decorative toilet plunger. This one has a clear, plastic handle and fancy little nubs at the end. She took a tube of lubricant and applied it to the handle, then had me get down on my knees. After delivering about two dozen swats with a hairbrush to my backside, she inserted the handle of the plunger into my rectal region and placed the other end on the floor. Then she had me slide myself up and down the handle whilst I was on the phone. It was wonderfully naughty.
That evening we had dinner at a fine little local restaurant, then viewed a screening of that cinematic classic, The Simpson’s Movie. Afterward, we picked up some ice cream, got naked, and sat snuggling on the couch, enjoying our dessert. It was nearing midnight, so I announced that I was going to make my way to the bedroom and invited her to join me, hint, hint. She indicated that she would, but wanted to take care of something first. I was intrigued.
Perhaps a quarter of an hour later, she called for me to take a look at something with her. When I came out, she had wrapped herself in a blanket, and said that she wanted me to look at the moon and stars with her. It sounded romantic, so I grabbed a robe and followed.
We live on a 2 and one half acre lot. On two sides, there is an upscale housing development, and on the other is a church with a fairly large tract of land and parking lot. About half of our property that is not covered by house, garage, or shed is wooded. The remainder is what passes for lawn, so that, when they were younger, the girls could have considerable room to play, or dad could organize a football game. We walked to the middle of the lawn and sat down. Abruptly, Angela rose and asked me to wait while she disappeared into the woods. When she returned, she asked if I “heard that?” I indicated that I had not heard anything.
“Good!” she replied. Apparently, she had gone to the end of our property and clapped her hands. Since I did not hear her clap, she surmised, then, if she were to spank me right there in the yard, it was likely that no one who lived in the vicinity would be able to hear that. She shed the blanket, revealing what she was wearing underneath, which was nothing, and also that she was carrying a wooden hairbrush. She spread the blanket out, then sat down and ordered me to lose my robe and lay across her lap.
The spanking that she gave me was long and luscious. I did not care whether or not anyone could hear, and I actually found the thought of someone spying on us to be exciting. When my spanking was concluded, I rolled off of Angela’s lap and she rolled onto me, where we were able to engage in some sexual enjoyment.Despite retiring late, I arose early the next morning, my bottom still warm and tingly. I made breakfast, then woke my darling wife so she could enjoy it with me. Afterwards, Angela announced that she was going to take a nice, long, hot bath. Before she did so, however, I found the hairbrush and paddled her fine bottom for “engaging in such risky behavior” the previous evening. I knew that she enjoyed a nice, hot bottom with her nice, hot bath.
After she ran her bath, I took a quick shower and started working. It was difficult to concentrate, however, because I knew that she was planning more spanking activities for the day. I could still feel the effects of the previous two days, but I was curious as my wife has a devious mind. Of course, my mind is pretty devious, too, so I was planning some activities of my own. Indeed, it was turning out to be a fantastic vacation, and it was to get better.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Frank Apologizes For The Delay
Firstly, I think that a word of explanation is in order. I had originally wished to relay the results of my “vacation” with Angela during the previous week. However, when I made my weekly trek to my place of work on Monday, I was informed that one of our customers had a crisis (translation: someone had fucked up big time) and that I was being sent there to “see what I could do” (translation: to save our asses before we were told to take a hike). It is a one-hour plane flight to where this customer is located, however since we live in a medium-small metropolis, the next flight from the local airport was not until 5 pm, and they wanted me there that day. I could have taken a flight from The Big City airport, but that was at least a 2 ½ hour drive, and that airport is notorious for delays. So I opted for the six-hour drive directly to the customer. A rental car was quickly summoned for me, and, after stopping at home to pack a bag and tell Angela where I was headed, I hit the expressways.
The rest of the week is a blur. The customer was very angry. The project was a mess. The project team there was completely discombobulated. And I was still in vacation mode. Every evening after working, the customer insisted that I join them at their favorite tavern for lots of beer and greasy bar food. By Wednesday, I was asleep on my feet, which at least allowed me to beg off of the post-work routine.
Indeed, the only problem was one of understanding. The on-site team did not know what was really required of them, despite being there for over a year, and the customer was not very good at communicating their needs. I simply went back to the original project requirements, determined the progress towards each, listed what still needed to be accomplished, and made sure that each side understood what was expected of them. When I left on Friday, everyone was happy.
Excepting for me. I was exhausted. And I still had to drive home.
And, of course, when I returned home, Angela promptly marched me out to the guest house and spanked me with a belt for “leaving her home for a whole week with two restless kids who start school next week.” Sigh. My beautiful wife just knows to how to take care of her man.
So now, once I complete this missive, I shall take a much-deserved nap. Bernie and her wife are here, and they brought hamburgers, chicken breasts, and fresh corn, the last of the season, God bless them. After the evening repast, perhaps I shall return to my journaling, regaling you with more tales of my Week Of Spanking.
Or perhaps I shall persuade Angela to join me for some privacy in the guest house.
Either one sound fantastic to me.
The rest of the week is a blur. The customer was very angry. The project was a mess. The project team there was completely discombobulated. And I was still in vacation mode. Every evening after working, the customer insisted that I join them at their favorite tavern for lots of beer and greasy bar food. By Wednesday, I was asleep on my feet, which at least allowed me to beg off of the post-work routine.
Indeed, the only problem was one of understanding. The on-site team did not know what was really required of them, despite being there for over a year, and the customer was not very good at communicating their needs. I simply went back to the original project requirements, determined the progress towards each, listed what still needed to be accomplished, and made sure that each side understood what was expected of them. When I left on Friday, everyone was happy.
Excepting for me. I was exhausted. And I still had to drive home.
And, of course, when I returned home, Angela promptly marched me out to the guest house and spanked me with a belt for “leaving her home for a whole week with two restless kids who start school next week.” Sigh. My beautiful wife just knows to how to take care of her man.
So now, once I complete this missive, I shall take a much-deserved nap. Bernie and her wife are here, and they brought hamburgers, chicken breasts, and fresh corn, the last of the season, God bless them. After the evening repast, perhaps I shall return to my journaling, regaling you with more tales of my Week Of Spanking.
Or perhaps I shall persuade Angela to join me for some privacy in the guest house.
Either one sound fantastic to me.
Friday, August 17, 2007
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
While the date on this post may say Friday, I am writing this on Sunday. Angela and I have just picked up our illustrious offspring from the airport, as they are returning from sunny Florida after visiting their grandparents (Angela’s parents) as well as Disney World. I’m sure that Disney World will never be the same.
However, I shall save stories relayed by my daughters for another day. The purpose of this missive, and perhaps the next couple, is to describe the activities that Angela and I partook while the girls were away.
In brief, there were spankings. Lots of spankings.
Oh, yes, we visited some nice restaurants, saw a couple of movies, went to a baseball game, and took a day trip to The Big City.
But mostly, there were spankings.
As I alluded to last week, when we returned from depositing the girls at the airport a week ago, Angela had me strip and wait in a corner of our bedroom with my hands behind my head while she “prepared.” This never fails to get a reaction from a certain part of my anatomy with a mind of its own. After a proper amount of time, Angela came in and ordered me to the middle of the room, where she bent me over and proceed to paddle my ass quite nicely. I had to make a considerable effort to stay still, remain in position, and not put my hands over my poor, sizzling backside. It was exquisite.
Angela sent me back to the corner and came over to grab two handfuls my of hot bottom. After some kneading and rubbing, she decided that I needed time to “recover,” so left me to contemplate the walls for a bit. Perhaps fifteen minutes later, she returned. This time she ordered me face down on the bed. She took up the paddle and again treated me to a nice, long spanking, followed by more rubbing, this time roaming her hands to other areas besides my heated tushie. I was then, one again, exiled to the corner. It was at this point that I noticed that Angela had shed herself of most of her clothing, save for one of her extra-large t-shirts that hangs almost to her knees. She looks especially cute when thusly attired, of which she is well aware.
When Angela again returned, she brought a nice, heavy hairbrush. She piled pillows in the middle of the bed and had me lay over them so that my ass pointed towards the ceiling. Angela then took great pains to work over the parts of my fanny that had not been properly punished by the paddle. This, not surprisingly, gave me great pains, and I mean that in a good way.
Being a modest person, I shall not go into details of what followed the spanking. Suffice to say, she did things with her mouth that I did not think she knew how to do, and I’ve known her for almost twenty-five years. After leaving me totally exhausted and satisfied on the bed, Angela retired to the kitchen to prepare a quick evening meal. When I regained my strength, I made for the computer so that I could begin to chronicle the evenings events for my loyal readers.
There was more of the same after dinner. This time I was paddled in the living room, slowly, with a “lecture” after each swat. She told me how “bad” I was (for not think of sending the girls to Florida first), how irresponsible I was (for allowing the weather to be “so damn hot), and how I’d better learn quickly (to know when she needed a spanking). She made sure that I knew how “angry” she was by putting almost all of her considerable strength behind each swat.
When my butt was sufficiently brutalized, Angela made herself comfortable on the sofa whilst I fetched my belt. I gave her a nice little thrashing, just enough to spread an attractive shade of crimson across her nates. Afterwards, we put a movie into the DVD player and took turns laying on the others lap and rubbing our nice, warm cheeks. We eventually progressed beyond bun-rubbing, but good taste prevents me from elaborating.
The best part of the whole evening was knowing that this was just the beginning on a fantastic spanking week. I shall chronicle the highlights in subsequent entries here. Now, however, I think that I hear Angela rummaging through our collecting of spanking toys, trying to determine which one to next apply to my rear end. I believe that will go help her choose.
However, I shall save stories relayed by my daughters for another day. The purpose of this missive, and perhaps the next couple, is to describe the activities that Angela and I partook while the girls were away.
In brief, there were spankings. Lots of spankings.
Oh, yes, we visited some nice restaurants, saw a couple of movies, went to a baseball game, and took a day trip to The Big City.
But mostly, there were spankings.
As I alluded to last week, when we returned from depositing the girls at the airport a week ago, Angela had me strip and wait in a corner of our bedroom with my hands behind my head while she “prepared.” This never fails to get a reaction from a certain part of my anatomy with a mind of its own. After a proper amount of time, Angela came in and ordered me to the middle of the room, where she bent me over and proceed to paddle my ass quite nicely. I had to make a considerable effort to stay still, remain in position, and not put my hands over my poor, sizzling backside. It was exquisite.
Angela sent me back to the corner and came over to grab two handfuls my of hot bottom. After some kneading and rubbing, she decided that I needed time to “recover,” so left me to contemplate the walls for a bit. Perhaps fifteen minutes later, she returned. This time she ordered me face down on the bed. She took up the paddle and again treated me to a nice, long spanking, followed by more rubbing, this time roaming her hands to other areas besides my heated tushie. I was then, one again, exiled to the corner. It was at this point that I noticed that Angela had shed herself of most of her clothing, save for one of her extra-large t-shirts that hangs almost to her knees. She looks especially cute when thusly attired, of which she is well aware.
When Angela again returned, she brought a nice, heavy hairbrush. She piled pillows in the middle of the bed and had me lay over them so that my ass pointed towards the ceiling. Angela then took great pains to work over the parts of my fanny that had not been properly punished by the paddle. This, not surprisingly, gave me great pains, and I mean that in a good way.
Being a modest person, I shall not go into details of what followed the spanking. Suffice to say, she did things with her mouth that I did not think she knew how to do, and I’ve known her for almost twenty-five years. After leaving me totally exhausted and satisfied on the bed, Angela retired to the kitchen to prepare a quick evening meal. When I regained my strength, I made for the computer so that I could begin to chronicle the evenings events for my loyal readers.
There was more of the same after dinner. This time I was paddled in the living room, slowly, with a “lecture” after each swat. She told me how “bad” I was (for not think of sending the girls to Florida first), how irresponsible I was (for allowing the weather to be “so damn hot), and how I’d better learn quickly (to know when she needed a spanking). She made sure that I knew how “angry” she was by putting almost all of her considerable strength behind each swat.
When my butt was sufficiently brutalized, Angela made herself comfortable on the sofa whilst I fetched my belt. I gave her a nice little thrashing, just enough to spread an attractive shade of crimson across her nates. Afterwards, we put a movie into the DVD player and took turns laying on the others lap and rubbing our nice, warm cheeks. We eventually progressed beyond bun-rubbing, but good taste prevents me from elaborating.
The best part of the whole evening was knowing that this was just the beginning on a fantastic spanking week. I shall chronicle the highlights in subsequent entries here. Now, however, I think that I hear Angela rummaging through our collecting of spanking toys, trying to determine which one to next apply to my rear end. I believe that will go help her choose.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
The Perfect Vacation For All
The legendary comic, Henny Youngman, once said, “I just flew in from Las Vegas … and, boy, are my arms tired!”
Well, I’ve just flown my two daughters to Florida, which has given me a sore butt!
Perhaps I should elaborate.
In my last post, I mentioned that my darling wife, Angela, was planning a vacation for the family. It turns out that Angela’s parents, who live in Florida, wanted to spend some time with Maribel and Colette. It also turns out that Maribel and Colette wanted to go to Disney World. Finally, it seems that Angela’s parents, who live in Florida (did I mention that already), were more than happy to take my daughters to Disney World. Seeing as Angela is recently unemployed, they offered to pay for the whole trip. Of course, Angela wouldn’t hear of such a thing. So she’s bought plane tickets to Florida for the girls, and her parents, who live in Florida (this is important, you know), will pay for the rest.
Now, since the temperature has been in the low to mid hundreds much of the summer, I was in no mood to go south during the hottest month of the year. Furthermore, there is no way that Angela, with her “fucked up back” (her doctor’s term, not mine), could spend four hours in an airplane, in addition to the extra eight spent sitting on the tarmac whilst the airlines figured out how a thunderstorm in Dubuque could disrupt their schedule. What this means is that, while our daughters will be lazing on the beach and blitzing Disney World with their grandparents, who live in Florida, Angela and I will have the house, which is a long way from Florida, to ourselves for an entire week. To a couple of spankos, I’m sure you know what that means.
That’s correct. Bliss.
We took the girls to the airport. Since Maribel is of age, and since non-passengers are no longer allowed past security in case we are carrying explosive credit cards, we dropped them off at the terminal. We offered to stay with them while they checked in, but Maribel, who has some experience traveling with her basketball team, said that she could handle everything. This probably meant that she wanted to have a beer in the airport tavern, which she will likely decline once she finds out that it costs ten bucks for a beer in an airport. So we gave them both hugs and kisses and wished them bon voyage.
As we left the airport, Angela and I chatted casually about mundane things. About halfway home, however, Angela abruptly changed tone.
“All right, young man,” she began. I love it when she calls me young man. It means that some spanking delight was upcoming. “When we get home, you are to go directly to the bedroom, remove all of your clothing, and stand in the corner with your hands behind your head.” She then proceeded to tell me everything that she had planned for me that afternoon.
Hence I sit here, clad only in a t-shirt, and with a wonderfully sore butt, as I write this. I believe that my butt will be sore quite a bit this week, which is perfectly acceptable with me. I have some plans of my own for Angela’s pretty posterior. While I love my daughters with all my soul, the spanko part of my is glad that they will be away for a stretch. Angela and I will be able to spend a lovely week engaged in our favorite hobby. Which is, of course, fantastic spanking.
Well, I’ve just flown my two daughters to Florida, which has given me a sore butt!
Perhaps I should elaborate.
In my last post, I mentioned that my darling wife, Angela, was planning a vacation for the family. It turns out that Angela’s parents, who live in Florida, wanted to spend some time with Maribel and Colette. It also turns out that Maribel and Colette wanted to go to Disney World. Finally, it seems that Angela’s parents, who live in Florida (did I mention that already), were more than happy to take my daughters to Disney World. Seeing as Angela is recently unemployed, they offered to pay for the whole trip. Of course, Angela wouldn’t hear of such a thing. So she’s bought plane tickets to Florida for the girls, and her parents, who live in Florida (this is important, you know), will pay for the rest.
Now, since the temperature has been in the low to mid hundreds much of the summer, I was in no mood to go south during the hottest month of the year. Furthermore, there is no way that Angela, with her “fucked up back” (her doctor’s term, not mine), could spend four hours in an airplane, in addition to the extra eight spent sitting on the tarmac whilst the airlines figured out how a thunderstorm in Dubuque could disrupt their schedule. What this means is that, while our daughters will be lazing on the beach and blitzing Disney World with their grandparents, who live in Florida, Angela and I will have the house, which is a long way from Florida, to ourselves for an entire week. To a couple of spankos, I’m sure you know what that means.
That’s correct. Bliss.
We took the girls to the airport. Since Maribel is of age, and since non-passengers are no longer allowed past security in case we are carrying explosive credit cards, we dropped them off at the terminal. We offered to stay with them while they checked in, but Maribel, who has some experience traveling with her basketball team, said that she could handle everything. This probably meant that she wanted to have a beer in the airport tavern, which she will likely decline once she finds out that it costs ten bucks for a beer in an airport. So we gave them both hugs and kisses and wished them bon voyage.
As we left the airport, Angela and I chatted casually about mundane things. About halfway home, however, Angela abruptly changed tone.
“All right, young man,” she began. I love it when she calls me young man. It means that some spanking delight was upcoming. “When we get home, you are to go directly to the bedroom, remove all of your clothing, and stand in the corner with your hands behind your head.” She then proceeded to tell me everything that she had planned for me that afternoon.
Hence I sit here, clad only in a t-shirt, and with a wonderfully sore butt, as I write this. I believe that my butt will be sore quite a bit this week, which is perfectly acceptable with me. I have some plans of my own for Angela’s pretty posterior. While I love my daughters with all my soul, the spanko part of my is glad that they will be away for a stretch. Angela and I will be able to spend a lovely week engaged in our favorite hobby. Which is, of course, fantastic spanking.
