Monday, December 31, 2007


The Outcome

Coach E. used her last time out. She huddled her team together and repeated what she’d said before, that is, to stay focused and to play within their offense. They didn’t need a special play because they would get good shots by running their normal sets. And they didn’t need a three-pointer, because there was time to get another possession. Everyone took a swig of water and went back on the floor.

Big State put pressure on the inbound pass, but we got the ball in to Amber, who worked it up the floor. She paused briefly when she passed center court and then passed the ball to Maribel at the foul line. At the same time, Amber broke for the basket. Maribel took one dribble to the left, setting a perfect pick on Amber’s defender. Maribel gave the ball back to Amber who went in for an uncontested layup. Now it was a one-point game.

Big State called time-out to set up their offense. There was still 59 seconds left, so Maribel’s team, barring a disaster, would get the ball back. Coach E. again repeated her call to stay focused, play solid defense, and stay within the offense. Then they went back on the floor, confident that the game was theirs. We had to wait for the other team, a move designed to make them a little more worried.

Coach E. had been right earlier when she said that Big State was tired. They struggled to get the ball inbounds, showed little movement when they had the ball, and were unable to penetrate to get close to the basket. They settled for a long three-pointer which missed badly. Both sides went after the rebound with tremendous effort, but Maribel was the one to rise above the rest and secure the ball. There were thirty seconds left, and we had the ball.

We were out of time-outs, but it didn’t matter. Maribel’s team knew what to do. Amber tossed it in to Maribel and broke again for the basket. This time her defender stayed with her and Maribel held the ball. Amber circled around and back to the front court, and Maribel gave her the ball back. Amber quickly gave it to Maribel again, and again broke for the basket. Again her defender stayed with her, so Maribel dribbled to her right and turned to face the basket. Quickly, two Big State players came to cover her. In addition, another of Maribel’s teammates had set a pick on Amber’s defender. Maribel threw a cross-court pass to Amber who put up a wide-open three pointer.

And missed.

There was another crash for the rebound, but as soon as she threw the pass, Maribel had moved to the center of the lane to establish excellent rebounding position. Maribel is a ferocious rebounder, and again she rose above the rest. She passed the ball back to Amber.

Eight seconds. Amber tossed it right back to Maribel. This was her moment. This time there was no double team. She was one-on-one against an inferior opponent. The building noise was deafening. I was on my feet, screaming. Maribel took two dribbles, faked left, turned into the lane, and fired up her famous fade-away jump shot.

And got hit on the arm.

And missed the shot.

The final buzzer and the referee’s whistle went off at the same time. Maribel look at the ref expectantly, waiting for the foul call. Another thing about Maribel. Her father always told her that truly good basketball players didn’t miss free throws. As a result, Maribel misses about once a week.

Except there was no foul call.

Maribel called to the referee, “I was fouled!” The ref signaled that the game was over. Again Maribel hollered, “I was fouled!” The ref just shook her head and said, “Games over!”

The best way to describe Maribel’s reaction is to say that she became apoplectic. Despite the din of the crowd, I could hear my daughter screaming. She started towards the ref, and I became concerned that she might assault the poor person. I was thinking that perhaps I should try to get to the floor lest she do something that she would regret later. Fortunately, she was intercepted by the coach of the Big State team. He whispered something into Maribel’s ear, and Maribel paused, looked at him, shook his hand, and turned to head for the locker room. After a few steps she stopped, turned around, and went back to congratulate victorious Big State players.

Afterwards, I followed Maribel down the tunnel and into their dressing room. It is not usual for player’s parents, especially the male parents, to be allowed into the locker room of a women’s basketball team, but all of the players know me and don’t mind. They also knew that Maribel would be mad and were probably hoping that I could calm her down before she kicked over another table.

When I reached my daughter, she was hunched over her in front of her locker, with her head in her hands, crying. I sat down next to her and let her cry for a bit.

“You were the best player out there today,” I told her at last. “You lost by 30 to this team last year, and this year you were with them all the way. You have a great team, one that is capable of playing with any Division I team in the country.”

“But, dammit, I was fouled!” shouted Maribel. “It was obvious! I never miss that shot unless I get fouled. And I never miss free throws! We would have won! We should have one!” The tears welled up again.

“Perhaps,” I responded. “But in a game like this, in their building, with referees from their conference, at the end of the game, you’re never going to get that call.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Maribel admitted.

“Now go hear what your coach has to say and shower up. We’ve been invited to the Big City for New Years, and you can come if your coach lets you. By the way, what did the Big State coach say to you at the end of the game?”

“He said that he made a big mistake not recruiting me when I was in high school, and that I was the best player he’s seen this year.” I gained a new respect for the Big State coach that day.

Overall, Maribel had 27 points, 13 rebounds, 6 assists, and five blocked shots. She shot 10 for 15 from the field and 7 of 7 from the free throw line. She was monstrous. And she made her teammates better by passing the ball off when the defense collapsed on her, and by setting picks to get them open shots. There were even some reporters who wanted to talk to Maribel after the game, although she declined.

As Maribel came out of the dressing room a while later, Bernie, Angela, Colette, and I were there to meet her. We all offered her our congratulations on how well she played, and our condolences on the unfortunate outcome. She accepted them quietly. Maribel was clearly still upset at missing the final shot.

Then Bernie, who knows a thing or two about basketball players, said to Maribel, “You know, if you tried that last move on me instead of some freshman, it would have never gotten to the basket, and I wouldn’t have needed to foul.”

Maribel whirled on her with a grin. “Oh, yeah?” she responded. “You’re so old, you’d never be able to reach my arm because you can’t jump!”

“You think so?” replied Bernie. “Well, why don’t we go back there and see about that!”

So we turned around and headed back to the gym. The security guard at the door recognized Maribel and was more than happy to let her back in. He even got a basketball for us. We spent the next hour and a half playing one of our famous Spanko-family two-on-two games, with Colette as the referee. This time, I got to be on the team with Maribel, which, for me, is truly fantastic. After getting her aggressions out on the court, Maribel was back to her old, friendly self.

So now we’re waiting for the ball to drop on the Big City. I understand that our host will be serving a big, steak dinner, and there will be plenty of beer and wine, both of which he makes himself. It will be a unique New Years’ experience.

So here’s wishing that all of my readers have a Fantastic Spanking New Year! Leave your old ghosts in the past, and get yourself a fresh start. And, by all means, whether your preference is to give or receive, go find a spanking to participate in, and make it the best spanking of the New Year!

By the way, Maribel did make that shot over Bernie. And now Bernie will never hear the end of it.

Sunday, December 30, 2007


Frank Reports On The Big Game

The Spanko family will be spending the New Year in the Big City. After Maribel and her basketball mates played Big State University, her coach was kind enough to give them a few days off, so we decided to take a break and see how the Big City celebrates New Years Eve. It helps that I befriended a well-off alumni of Big State U. at Saturday’s game, who happens to live in the Big City, and he was so impressed with Maribel’s play that he invited us to spend New Years with him and to stay at his house. It also turns out that his wife was also a college basketball player, and that his wife knows Bernie, albeit casually, and had played against her back in the day. The wife was also favorably impressed with Maribel’s game, and so was happy to have us for the long weekend.

Ah, yes, I did promise to give the result of the big game. And a Spanko never goes back on a promise.

It was an excellent game, played at a very high level throughout. Maribel’s team came out aggressive and led by six points at halftime, 40 to 34. However, in the second half, Big State began to wear down their opponents, relying on their superior size. Still, Maribel’s team continued to be active on defense, generating several turnovers that led to easy baskets. Despite this, Maribel’s team trailed by six points going into the last ten minutes.

Our seats were close enough to Maribel’s bench so that we could overhear the coaches talking to their players. I had noticed that the offense, which tried to execute most plays through Maribel earlier in the game, had gotten away from that in the second half, and I mentioned that to Bernie. A couple of minutes later, Bernie excused herself and got up. I thought she was making her way to the facilities, but instead she headed towards the floor. I saw her beckon one of Maribel’s assistant coaches and say something in her ear. Then Bernie returned to her seat.

“What did you say to the coach?” I asked her.

“You’ll see … I hope,” Bernie responded.

At the next time out, Maribel’s coach, whose name is Evelyn Cranston (but everyone calls her Coach E.), told her team, “Ladies, you need to get back to what we worked on in practice. Run everything through Maribel. Maribel, they can’t stop you unless they double team you, and you know what to do if they do!”

Indeed Maribel did. For the next six minutes, Maribel either scored or assisted on every basket her team scored. If they cut her off from going to the basket, she scored over her opponent with her classic fade-away jump shot that her father taught her. If they played her to shoot, she drove to the basket. If they brought the double-team, she passed to teammates for easy jump shots, several of which were three-pointers. Her team re-took the lead.

And then Maribel got elbowed in the face. She briefly fell to the floor, but was up and ready to go quickly. Unfortunately, the elbow had opened a small cut underneath her left eye, and the rules say that you cannot play until you get open wounds covered up. She went to the bench for two minutes, during which time Big State scored seven straight points to take a four point lead, 74 to 70.

Coach E. called time-out with two minutes left and huddled with her team again. “Okay, ladies,” she shouted over the din in the arena, “they just went on a run, but they’re gassed! Look at their bench. They’re sucking wind like we’re playing on the moon. If we keep playing our game, we WILL win this game!” Even I was inspired.

Coach E. continued. “I’m not going to call any plays. Just run our offense. Amber (Amber Mason, the teams excellent senior point guard) and Maribel know what to do. Stay aggressive and this game is ours!”

Coach E. is a wise woman. Maribel was back in and rested, and she and her team went out re-energized. They worked the ball in to Maribel, who looked left, didn’t see a double team coming, spun the other way, rose up and shot. Swish. Two point game.

Big State went back the other way. They tried to get the ball inside, but Maribel foiled that. With the shot clock running out, one of the Big State players risked a drive to the basket. Maribel stepped in her way and knocked her shot away. However, she also hit her opponents arm. Foul. Two shots.

Maribel was angry. She did not think she had committed the foul. From my vantage point, however, it did look like Maribel made contact with the other player’s arm. Coach E. yelled for Maribel to stay focused.

The Big State player missed one of the two free throws, leaving it a three point game. There were seventy-five second left in the game.

Alas, the hour is late, and sleep is calling me. We have a busy day tomorrow, but I promise I shall report the conclusion of this game, since you are all certainly dying to know, and I wouldn’t want to be responsible for anyone dying. I will give you one bit of foreshadowing: It was a fantastic finish.

But, then again, you already knew that.

Friday, December 28, 2007


An Update Of Sorts

Today’s entry is being written as I sit here on a sore butt. Colette is spending the night at the house of a friend, so Angela took the opportunity to give her right arm, and some of our trusty paddles, a good work-out. She used the smaller ones as I laid across her lap, and the larger ones as I laid across the back of an armchair.

Tomorrow we need to get an early start. We have to pick up Colette and Bernie, and then we will be making our way to the Big State University. As you may recall, Maribel and her college team basketball will be taking on Big State tomorrow, and the game starts at noon. Big State has a popular women’s basketball program, and they’ve been promoting this game by giving out lots of free tickets to girls’ high school teams throughout the state. However, Maribel’s school’s athletic director was wise enough to secure excellent tickets for the parents of the players, so we will be quite close to the action. As you may recall, Bernie and I have a bet on the game, as she feels that Big State is too … well … big for Maribel’s team to beat. I disagree. We have a spanking riding on the outcome.

Speaking of spanking, something that we do often on this little piece of the internet, in my last post I had mentioned that I was expecting a Christmas spanking. Alas, that did not quite work out. After Colette and Maribel had left so see a movie, Angela and I donned some comfy clothing and cuddled up on the sofa to relax and listen to some music. It had been a long and tiring day. I laid back, and Angela laid with me, putting her head on my arm.

The next thing we knew, Colette was coming through the back door, returning from the movie. Angela and I had fallen fast asleep on the sofa. Now that Colette was home, there would be no Christmas spankings. To make matters worse, we had to regain our wits quickly, as neither of us were wearing pants.

The next day, Maribel left to return to basketball practice. After lunch, Colette received a phone call. Apparently, one of her friends was going shopping with her mom, to take advantage of the post-Christmas bargains, and invited Colette to accompany her. Colette had a couple of gift cards burning a hole in her wallet, so she was happy to go with them, leaving the house to just Angela and myself.

This time I didn’t waste any time. I went to the bedroom and got out one of our heavier straps and a good-sized paddle. I then rather sternly summoned Angela. She came in with a puzzled look on her face.

“My dear,” I began, “you were very irresponsible yesterday. By letting us fall asleep, you allowed us to waste a perfectly good spanking opportunity.”

Angela stuck out her lower lip in a fake pout. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Sorry isn’t good enough. For something like this, you are going to be punished.”

“Are you going to spank me?” she asked.


“On my bare bottom?”


I thought Angela was going to remove her pants in record time, but she maintained her fake pout and hung her head. I could see, however, that she was smiling. I picked up the strap.

“Okay, young lady, pull down your pants and lay over the bed.” This was rewarded with a fake whine as Angela complied. I proceeded to lay 12 licks across her luscious cheeks, turning them a cheery red in a hurry.

“Did that hurt?” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” she responded.

“Well, I don’t think it hurt enough.” I gave her another dozen licks. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, sir,” she said. I could hear the chuckle in her voice. She loves it when I play the disciplinarian.

“We’ll see about that. On your feet!”

Angela started to pull her pants up. “Did I say you could pull up your pants?” I said, sternly. “This lesson isn’t quite over yet! Why don’t you just take them completely off so they won’t be in the way!”

She removed her trousers and stood up. “Now bend over and put your hands on the bed. I’m going to give you twenty-five swats with this paddle. You’re going to count the swats, and you’ll keep your hands on the bed. If your hands come off of the bed, I’ll add five additional swats!”

Angela assumed the position. I gave her a couple of three-quarter strength whacks, and then delivered one with more force. This startled her and she straightened up momentarily.

“What did I say about leaving your hands on the bed?” I shouted, sort of. “Now you’ll get thirty whacks. Plus we’ll do that one again!”

I proceeded to paddle Angela good and hard. She was much better about keeping in position, although I had her dancing around quite a bit. Towards the end, she straightened up and grabbed her butt in a most attractive way. I know my wife well enough to know that she did this on purpose, so that she could prolong the spanking. So I added an additional ten whacks.

When I finished, her rear end was clearly and thoroughly punished. However, I was not quite finished.

“Now get on the bed on your hands and knees, young lady,” I told her. “I have one more licking to give you!”

I did not deliver this licking with an implement, though, nor was it exactly a spanking. It was more designed to bring forth moans of pleasure. You’ll have to use your imagination to picture where things went from there.

So the spankings were delivered after all, albeit a bit late. And now it’s off to bed, to get ready for the big day tomorrow. I have full confidence that Maribel’s team will be victorious, which would be simply fantastic. I shall report the outcome here before the new year.

Monday, December 24, 2007


The Obligatory Christmas Post

Ah, ‘tis the season. Maribel and Colette are here, and they’re not even fighting with each other. We have a roaring fire going, although it is a gas fireplace. Santa Claus is making his last pre-flight plans. There’s even a little dusting of snow on the ground, although the dumping that we received last weekend has melted. I believe that I’ll pour myself a glass of Bailey’s Irish Cream, sit down on the sofa, put my feet up, and fall asleep to whatever sappy movie the girls and Angela will pop into the DVD player.

Thanks to the marvels of modern technology, earlier today I was able to watch the last couple of Maribel’s basketball games. It seems that her school is able to make digital video recordings of all of their games, and then copies them to DVD for the players to take home and “study.” They’re supposed to watch for where their teammates are in certain situations so that they’ll have a better court awareness during future games. However, Maribel and I pop open a couple of beers and watch them to make fun of the other team.

Oh, my. I have a daughter who is old enough to drink legally. She graduates from University in May. She is (shudder) sexually active. And, she is a spanko. I must add that I know the last two details having been informed about them by her mother. Maribel feels that she can be open and honest about her sexuality with Angela, and they share plenty of “girl talk.” Thank goodness she doesn’t share those details with me. The thought of some man doing “those things” to my precious little girl, and, even worse, the thought of her throwing her legs up or pointing her rump at him and asking for “those things,” makes me want to lock her in her bedroom until she’s 35. Sigh. Fathers can be like that, I guess.

Did I mention that my little girl is over six feet tall with shoulders like a lumberjack, and that she’s a pre-season all-conference basketball player, and a center, no less?

Still, Maribel is a wonderful daughter. Case in point, she’s sharing Christmas dinner with us tomorrow night, and the boyfriend will be with his folks. Afterwards, they are going to rendezvous and view the traditional Christmas movie at one of our local theatres. Maribel was kind enough to ask Colette to come along as a chaperone so that she could spend more time with her little sister before she has to return to school for basketball practice. What that means is that, after cleaning up from the yuletide meal, Angela and I will have the house to ourselves for a few hours. And that can only mean one thing.

A Christmas Spanking!

Hopefully, my butt will be as red as Santa’s suit before the night is over.

Here’s wishing all of you a Fantastic Christmas and a joyous holiday. May you get all the spankings that you wish, and may all your spankings bring you great pleasure!

Thursday, December 20, 2007


The Bet

As all of my loyal readers know, my eldest daughter, Maribel, is the greatest female basketball player in the world.

Or, at least, so thinks her father. After all, he taught her everything he knew about the game.

OK, time for a reality check. Which is a curious thing for an imaginary blogger to state.

In reality, or at least in my reality, Maribel is a fine basketball player. She is a university senior, and is co-captain of her school team. Her school plays at the NCAA Division II level, which is not where the big boys … or rather … the big girls play, but is nonetheless a high level of competition. This year, she is the leading scorer and rebounder on her team, and her team is favored to win her conference this season. Their team is good enough that they have already defeated a bigger, Division I school this season by twenty points. Now, that school is fielding their first varsity-level women’s basketball team, but a win is a win. In addition, Maribel’s school had never beaten a D-I school before.

On the weekend between Christmas and New Years, Maribel’s team will play the Big State University. Last year when these two teams played, Big State won by 30 points or so.

That was last year, when Big State had an all-conference center, who has since graduated.

This year, Big State is not as talented as last year, and Maribel’s team is better. Much better. And last year, as you may recall, Maribel’s team advanced to the third round of the D-II tournament. They have spent their time since, with impressive focus, working towards two goals. One if the reach the Final Four of the championship tournament.

The second is to beat Big State University.

Bernie, Angela’s best friend and an excellent basketball talent in her own right (she was all-conference twice in college) was over for lunch. We were discussing Maribel’s basketball fortunes. Bernie commented that would be a good experience for Maribel’s team to play Big State U., but that they would likely be beaten badly again.

“Not so fast,” I retorted. “Maribel and her mates are playing better than they ever have. They have a complete game both on offense and defense. And Big State is struggling. They’ll be looking past Maribel’s team and to the start of their conference season. Maribel’s team has been pointing to this game as one they really want to win. And I think they will.”

Bernie snorted. “Big State is bigger, faster and stronger than Maribel’s school. They simply play at a different level. I doubt that the score will even be close.”

I continued to argue my case. “They may have some better players, but they are not a better team. Besides, they don’t have anyone who can shoot as well as Amber Mason (the other co-captain on Maribel’s team), and they don’t have anyone as strong as Maribel. We’ll beat Big State this year.”

Bernie snorted. “All right,” she said, “I’ll tell you what. If Maribel’s team beats Big State, I’ll let you spank me!”

It was my turn to snort. It does need to be mentioned that Bernie is well aware of the spanko tendencies of Angela and me, so this wager was not entirely out of the blue. However, Bernie does not share them, so her challenge was still a surprise.

Intrigued, and without a better response, I asked, “What kind of spanking?”

“Bare bottom,” she answered. “With one of your paddles or straps or whatever you usually use on your lovely wife over there.”

Angela chimed in. “That sounds like a bet,” she offered. “If Maribel win’s, Frank gets to spank Bernie. And if Big State wins, Bernie spanks Frank.”

So it was agreed. I have officially put my butt on the line, such is the faith I have in my daughter’s athletic ability and the skills of her teammates. Angela will officiate, making sure that the loser gets the appropriate number of whacks and that no one overly abused.

Even though Bernie is a dear friend, it shall be a pleasure to spank her. She needs to learn that Frank Spanko is the authority when it comes to the basketball prowess of his daughter and her team. And if I have to deliver that message via her butt, then that is what I shall do.

I may even sell tickets.

Wouldn’t that be fantastic.

The game is scheduled for Saturday, December 29. Check back to following day for the results of the game and the spanking.

Friday, December 14, 2007


Angela Was A Bad Girl

With the yuletide just around the corner, it seems prudent to give you an update of some of the happenings here at the Spanko homestead, home of everyone’s favorite imaginary spanking couple.

With the advent of the internet (thank-you once again, Mr. Gore), the holidays for me are no longer terribly stressful. I don’t go to stores. I don’t send Christmas cards. I let my fingers do the walking. Walking across the keyboard, that is. I do almost all of my shopping online, and I send out oodles of online Christmas greetings, all from the comfort of my own home.

Angela, on the other hand, does not. For some strange reason, she insists on buying gifts in person, thereby subjecting herself to the crowds, traffic, and disappointments that one inevitably encounters this time of year. She says it is more traditional. This year, since she is not working, she has been more “traditional” than usual.

She has also been more cranky.

Last Saturday, Angela left the house at 7:30 am and did not return home until mid-afternoon. Upon arriving, she had nothing to say to me or Colette except for complaints. The sales people were rude. Every store was out of everything. The remaining merchandise had all been picked over multiple times. And to make matters worse, a storm system was dumping loads of crap upon our city. I determined that my dear wife was in need of some much-needed de-crankifying (one great thing about blogging is the ability to make up new words).

When Angela had settled down, she went into the kitchen to prepare herself a late lunch. When she had finished, I decided that now was the time to tae action. I went to the back door of the barn and asked if she wanted me to carry any packages to the guest house for storage, to keep them away from prying eyes. She said “yes” and came to show me what to take.

Before continuing, I should mention that Angela and I really do not engage in what is often referred to as “punishment” spankings, per se. Because we find spanking fun, we choose to not “reward” the other with a butt warming for real life failures. That being said, sometimes one needs to set the proper mood. Therefore, neither of us are averse to inventing sometimes outlandish reasons for which to give a paddling.

When we stepped outside, I said to her, “Now, Angela, I’m really rather disappointed in you. You just did something that almost turned out to be a disaster if I hadn’t intervened.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” she asked. One of the things that I love about Angela is that she is so ladylike.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. When you were making your lunch, you made yourself a cup of chamomile tea, and you threw the tea bag into the garbage.”

“Yeah. So?”

“Well, if I would have taken the garbage to the curb, you know darn well that the Cat would have smelled the chamomile. (Ed. Note – as you may recall, Cat is the immortal cat that lives in our yard. She came with the house. She never digs in the garbage because we keep her well fed.) Then Cat would have taken the bag onto the porch and torn it open. When I would walk onto the porch, I would have tripped over Cat and knocked myself unconscious. Cat would have felt so guilty that she would have tried to drag me to the car and drive me to the hospital.”

At this point, Angela was trying to suppress a snort. “And….” was all she could say.

“And… you know what bad drivers cats are. She would have gotten into an accident which would have made my injuries worse and so I would not have been able to play a Christmas elf at the school this year!”

Angela tried to feign indignation, but she was not doing too well.

I continued. “If I hadn’t have taken that tea bag out of the trash, the Christmas play would have been ruined, and some poor kid would be so upset that he’d become a mad scientist and develop a bacteria that would eat all of the dirt in the world, leaving us to live in a world with no dirt!”

What can I say. I was working off the cuff.

“And so, young lady, for your carelessness, you and I are going to take a stroll over to the guest house where I am going to take your pants down, take you over my knee, and give your bare butt a good spanking with a hairbrush!”

After her spanking, Angela was in much better spirits.

Now I just hope that she never throws out another tea bag.

Or maybe I hope that she does. Then I’d have to spank her again. Wouldn’t that be a little fantastic?

Saturday, December 08, 2007


Ye Olde Naked Weekend, Conclusion (Finally)

It is now time to bring our little story to its conclusion. Saturday is drawing to a close, and the snow storm is abating. Here is how Liz and I finished our time together.

Afterwards, we fell asleep, totally spent. I awoke perhaps an hour later, slightly disoriented. Then I recognized the unmistakable warmth on my backside from multiple spankings over the previous two days, and my memory flooded back. At that moment, I do believe that I was the happiest that I had ever been in my life up to that point.

I was also famishly hungry. I got up and checked out my icebox, to see what I might prepare for an evening meal. I discovered a couple of New York Strip steaks in my freezer, and decided that those would make a good dinner on a cold night. I thawed them in the microwave and then placed them under the broiler in the oven, along with a couple of nice baking potatoes that I had brushed with butter. While those cooked, I pulled out some salad fixings from the fridge. If mama Spanko taught her children nothing else, she taught them to eat well.

As the steaks were cooking, I heard Liz cooing in the living room. “Damn, that smells good!” she said. “I’m starving!” I was going to say something about having her sexual appetite satisfied earlier, but I decided to be a gentleman instead.

Liz came into my kitchen wrapped in a blanket. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked. It was at that point that I realized that I was still naked.

“Do you realize,” I responded, “that we have been naked for almost the entire day?”

Liz smiled and dropped the blanket. “Well, then I’d better get with the program!” she said, and then embraced me and gave me a nice, long, affectionate kiss. I let my hands wander down to her hindquarters, and found them to be, like mine, quite warm.

“Besides,” I said, “your red hot butt is keeping me plenty warm!”

Liz laughed. “I’ll bet that your butt is pretty warm as well! I’m surprised that you needed the oven to cook the food with. You could have just set it on your butt!”

I chuckled, choosing not to discuss the hygienic issues of using one’s posterior as a cooking appliance. Liz wandered off to the bathroom to inspect the damage to her bum, and I finished preparing our meal. I heard her comment about all of the pretty colors that were beginning to appear on her cheeks. I suspected that, if nothing else, we would remember this weekend every time we sat down for the next several days.

We ate our dinner cuddled up on the sofabed, where we chatted about why we both found spanking so fascinating. Liz admitted that she frequently fantasized about spankings, and that she had, two or three times, taken the opportunity to spank herself. She admitted that she had been disappointed with those experiences. It left her butt nice and warm. But, she said, there was something missing.

“Did you find out what was missing today?” I asked.

Another smile lit up her face. “Yes,” she responded, and leaned over and kissed me again.

I told her that I had occasionally spanked myself, too, but I did not tell her to what extent. I mentioned that I had been lucky enough to have engaged in spankings with one or two other lovers, but I didn’t go into most of the details that I have shared with you in this little spanko diary of mine.

What I also didn’t tell her was that I no longer wanted to spank myself, or to have anyone else spank me. Anyone else, that was, except her. I thought I had found my spanko soul mate, my paddling partner if you will. I had never had an experience this extensive or this fabulous. I was hoping that this was to be the start of a long and wonderful spanko relationship.

Unfortunately, Fate had other plans for the two of us.

We finished dinner, cleaned up, and cuddled up on the sofabed to watch a little television and do a little snuggling. That was when the power went out. Apparently, a snow plow had slid into a power pole, taking it out and the electricity of everyone in the neighborhood with it. No electricity meant no heat, and no heat meant that my old, little rented house would get rather cold rather quickly. So there was only one thing that we could do. We gave each other what would turn out to be the last spanking of the weekend to generate some heat. Then we piled all of my blankets on the sofabed, crawled underneath, and made love. I mean, we had to stay warm somehow, didn’t we?

We again fell asleep, buried under the blankets and completely entwined. Thank goodness, the power returned about an hour later, although we both admitted that, in such close quarters, we had been plenty warm. I got up, turned off the television and the lights, and we returned to snoozing.

I slept like a rock until about dawn. When I woke up, I found that I was alone in the bed. I panicked briefly, thinking that Liz had gotten up in the middle of the night and gone home. Then I noticed that two of my blankets were missing. I remembered the previous night, and I got up and went to my bedroom, where I found Liz sleeping comfortably in my bed. I went to retrieve the leather belt, think that it would only be proper to spank Liz since she had spanked me for exactly the same thing. However, a gentle ray of the rising sun fell upon her face, and she looked so beautiful and peaceful that I decided that it was best to just leave her be.

I took a quick shower and then went into the kitchen to make some breakfast. Being Sunday, I decided to whip up some pancakes (no pun intended). While I was cooking, Liz came in, still looking sleepy and still naked. I felt slightly guilty since I had donned a pair of comfy sweats, but Liz didn’t seem to mind. Liz gave me a hug from behind and a brief nuzzle, then sat down and waited while I finished preparing our food. Liz insisted on remaining nude during her meal, so I felt that it was my duty to become so also. And we enjoyed our morning repast quite naked.

After eating, Liz showered and donned the clothes that she had worn over on Friday evening. I must admit, that girl cleaned up very nice. In her red slacks and white blouse, she looked smashing. Liz retrieved her coat and began to say her farewells when she realized that her car was still in a state of disrepair.

Fortunately, after a day and a half of miserable weather, this day had dawned bright and sunny. We’d had about 15 inches of show, but the plows were now out and things were starting to return to normal. I inspected her vehicle and declared that the patient was not dead yet. I pulled out my trusty jumper cables (for my car was not much more reliable than hers) and we were able to get her car started. That just left the problem of the flat tire. Now, being the ever-resourceful spanko, I always keep a can of Fix-A-Flat in my car in case of emergencies. In no time, her tire was un-flat. I shoveled a path to the road for her, and she was all set to be off.

We shared one last kiss in my driveway. “So was it so bad getting stuck at my place for the weekend?” I asked her with a wink.

“Well ….,” she answered, “I’d have to say it was a spanking good time!” I couldn’t have asked for a better response if I’d have written it myself.

Liz continued. “No, really, it was the best! I feel so much better than when I got here. This weekend started out totally shitty, and you and I turned it into something really memorable. Thank-you!”

I kissed her again, then let her go. She waved as she drove off. I very much wanted to spend lots more time with this woman. I started to plan our next weekend together, but sometimes such plans just don’t work out.

We returned to work on Monday, and worked returned to normal. Normal, as in incredibly hectic and pressured. We both put in sixteen hour days the whole week, and worked Saturday and Sunday. There was virtually no time to even talk to Liz, let alone spank her.

The next week wasn’t much better, but by that Friday it looked like things might settle down enough so that we could get together on Saturday. I wandered over to Liz’s cubicle to ask if she’d like to accompany me to dinner, since we never made it out on our previous date. Afterwards, we could return to my place and give my spanking implements another workout. She was just finishing up a phone call as I arrived.

“Guess what?” she asked before I could say anything. “I got another job! I start in two weeks. It’s in Florida, so no more of this snow and ice shit! And no more sixteen hour days! I need to go to my parents’ house this weekend to get my stuff ready to be moved!”

So much for dinner and a spanking.

On Liz’s last day, our team took her out to lunch. After eating, Liz and I lingered after the rest had returned to work. We chatted about school, our jobs, and moving on. Then I told her how much I would miss her. She blushed.

“I’ll miss you too,” she said. “You were a good friend.” Then, after a pause, “And a really good spanker, too. It’s too bad that I have to get going or else I’d let you spank me one more time for old times sake.”

Alas, it was not to be. Liz went her way and I went mine, marrying Angela, having two wonderful kids, getting regular spankings, and writing this blog for the entertainment of my loyal readers and fellow spankos. I did happen to see Liz again, once, about ten years later, and it was a noteworthy event. However, that will be a story for another time.

So now, after all this time, and like all good things, this story must end. Perhaps it was best that Liz and I spent just the one weekend together. It could be that those days were perfect, and had we spent any more time together, it would have ruined perfection. Instead, I was left with a sore bottom and some very fond memories. I’m sure that you will agree that spending a cold, snowy weekend naked with one who is discovering their new-found pleasure in all things spanking is truly fantastic.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007


Ye Olde Naked Weekend, Nearing Conclusion

This would never do. There was a very pretty young lady in my house who was not wearing any pants, and who needed to be kept warm on a snowy day, and I was out of beer AND condoms. There was only one thing to do, and that was to venture out into the snow.

Fortunately, living in a college town, and near to campus, one is never far from a convenience store that stocks both items of which I was out. Indeed, there was one at the end of my street. Despite the snow, I could walk there, purchase my goods, and return forthwith. I grabbed my pants and my coat and told Liz that I would be right back.

“Wait,” said Liz. “I’ll come with you.” She pulled on her boots and her coat and made for the door.

“Uh, aren’t you forgetting something?” I asked her.

“Like what?”

“Well, you’re not wearing any pants.” Indeed, there was nothing between her coat and her tushie except thin air.

“I know,” was her reply. “Let’s get going.” She continued out into the cold. Far be it for me to contradict a lady. Fortunately, her coat was long and extended almost to the ground, so if she was polite, her half-nakedness would be cleverly concealed.

Except for being cold and snowy, the walk to the store was uneventful. The store clerk gave me an envious look when he saw what I was buying, and whom I was with. The weather had caused his beer delivery to be late, so the store was quite low on most of the putrid brews that are consumed by most poor, college kids. Fortunately, I was gainfully employed and only consume the higher quality ales.

When we returned, Liz retrieved the shower brush and informed me that I need to be spanked good for allowing my stock of such important commodities to be depleted. I was therefore relieved of my trousers, bent over the sofa, and paddled smartly. Of course, I could not let her little stunt of leaving the house with no pants go unpunished, so I took her over my knee and heated up her rear end with the hairbrush. Then, since we had a freshly replenished stock of condoms, we resumed the activity that we were otherwise engaged in prior to our trip to the store.

After our little tumble, Liz straightened up the living room while I made us some sandwiches. Liz refused to wear anything while doing the tidying, which rose no objection from me. I had thrown on an old flannel shirt while preparing our midday repast, but shed it when we consumed our food along with a couple of malt beverages. Afterwards, we scanned the TV listings to see what good games were on, and then settled in for an afternoon of viewing and whatnot.

We spent the day watching plenty of basketball, and some football, and drinking plenty of beer. And, oh yes, there was considerable whatnot. Throughout most of the afternoon, we devised various and frequent ways to apply one of my spanking toys to one of our bottoms. Liz proved very creative in both coming up with interesting positions in which to be spanked and inventing reasons to be spanked. My goal was to see how often I could make Liz jump or yelp, not by hitting her harder or in more sensitive spots, but by keeping her off guard and whacking her when she least expected it. All four of my implements, the paddle, the hairbrush, the shower brush, and the belt, saw plenty of use. We also found plenty of other items in my small house that were quite handy for spanking as well. It was terribly cold outside, and the snow fell in copious amounts, but inside, Liz and I kept ourselves plenty warm, especially our Gluteus Maximi.

As the afternoon wore on and day faded into night, our activities began to become less playful and more intense. It was as if we both sensed that something, well, fantastic was occurring but was soon to end, so we were determined to get absolutely as much out of this time as was humanly possible. When the sun was up, I wanted Liz to firmly swat my naked butt. When it got dark, I need to feel the wood or the leather slashing against my ass, hard, over and over. During the day, Liz would giggle when I would give her a swap. In the evening, she was moaning and demanding that I hit her harder.

I eventually found myself face down and prone on the sofabed, my ass completely at Liz’s mercy. Her left hand was in the middle of my back, and with her right was wielding the paddle, and doing so with vigor. She would bring the flat of the board down upon my cheeks like she was pounding a hammer, crashing into my ass with an explosion of sound and pain. Then she would holler at me, “Do you want more?” and I would respond just as loudly, “Yes!” Then another whack would blast me, and the cycle would repeat.

Soon it became necessary to deal with other parts of the anatomy that were demanding attention. Liz took me into her mouth and made me make noises that one would think could never be made by adult person. When I thought I would explode, literally, Liz rose up on her knees and told me exactly what she expected me do to her. Then she turned around and positioned herself on her hands and knees, at which point I proceeded to do exactly what she expected (after donning one of our newly-purchased condoms, of course). This time, albeit in a more figurative fashion, I did explode, and Liz with me.

Sunday, December 02, 2007


Ye Olde Naked Weekend, Resumed Again

When last we left our heroes, Liz was planning on leaving my place despite a driving snowstorm.

Her car, however, had other ideas. Since Liz was a poor recent college grad like I, her car was, shall we say, somewhat less than cherry. The car was completely covered with ice, and all four doors had frozen shut. We scraped ice until our hands were numb. I then fetched a kettle of boiling water, and we were open the door. However, as I was clearing a path on the drive for her to pull out, I discovered that her tire had gone flat. Since this was the tire that she had replaced earlier in the evening, she was now without a spare. But that really didn’t matter, since her car refused to start, apparently due to a dead battery.

Freezing, we went back inside. Liz went for her AAA card and asked for the phone.

“My dear,” I told her, “There is a blizzard going on out there. Even should the tow trucks be running, they will have about a thousand calls that they will have to get to before they can come here. You’ll be lucky to see a tow truck before midnight.”

“Well what the fuck am I supposed to do?” she snapped back at me. “I have things that I really need to get done today!”

I just looked at her for a few seconds, then I had a thought. I slowly walked over and picked up the fourth and final object in my modest spanking implement collection: a fine, long-handled wooded shower brush. “With a mouth like that, young lady, the only thing you’re getting is a good spanking!”

Liz stared at me. At first, I thought that perhaps I had gone too far. Maybe it was important for her to be off, and I should be offering assistance rather than playing around. Then she shrugged.

“I guess you’re right,” she responded, taking off her coat.

“Then get over here!” I said, pointing to the floor just in front of where I was standing, behind my sofa, which jutted out at a 90 degree angle from the wall. “And get those pants off! You’re getting this on your bare bottom!”

Off came her pants, displaying once again for me her fine, shapely buttocks. There were a couple of marks left over from the previous evenings fun, but otherwise they were smooth and creamy. I bent her over the back of the sofa so that her head was below her waist. I took aim at the sweet spot on her glorious globe closest to me, and let the shower brush fly.

I gave her two dozen of my finest swats, twelve on each cheek. She took them well, staying in position over the back of the sofa. She was fairly vocal, and towards the end she began dancing back and forth between her feet. Her cheeks went from their creamy white with just a hint of pink to a bright and shiny fuchsia. When I finished, she was panting and giggling. She stood up and began to vigorously rub her aching backside.

“Allow me, my dear,” I said to her. I gently moved her hands out of the way and began sensuously massaging her bottom. Liz began making some cooing sounds, and then turned around, wrapped her arms around me, and planted her lips upon mine. I returned the kiss, and moved my hands up to embrace her.

“Keep your hands right where they are!” she said, so I went back to soothing her butt whist we smooched.

It was not long before I was also bereft of pants, and we were back on the sofa bed, doing what a man and a woman together will do when they have no pants on. However, as we neared the point of entry, we realized something quite important. To our horror, we discovered that we were out of condoms.

“Now,” Liz said, “there is no fucking way I want to get pregnant right now. So if there are no condoms, there will be no fucking.” It was a very poetic way of expressing her thoughts. Besides, my sentiments matched hers. I decided to drown my sorrows in beer and trundled over to the fridge. That was when I discovered that I was out of beer, too.

In the next episode, find out how Liz and I handled this imminent crisis.

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?