Friday, April 16, 2010


Spankings Solve Everything

When you get to be my age, there is a problem to being handsome... all of your fellow male co-workers feel the need to come to you for advice with their intimate relationship problems.

Fortunately, with my looks, I don't often have that problem.

However, the other day I was having lunch with a younger former co-worker. He confided to me that he was afraid his wife might be think of asking for a divorce. When I asked why, he told me that his better half had become rather uninteresting in bed. I believe the phrase he used was "cold fish." He went on to say that he thought his spouse had lost interest in him and was thus not anxious to engage in sexual relations.

Since I really did not give the proverbial rat's ass about his marital problems or his sex life, I tried several different approaches to change the subject to one more insubstantial, but this gentleman seemed to think that I was a font of advice and was desirous of sharing it. So, after listening to him whine for several more minutes, I told him that perhaps their sex life had become rather boring.

"But we've had sex the same way for years and she always enjoyed it!" was his response.

"Did your wife's disinterest seem to happen suddenly or has her libido gradually waned?" I asked.

"Well ... I'm not sure...".

So not only was this person boring, but he was clueless. So I suggested the one thing that all Spankos offer to spice up lovemaking.

"Why don't you try spanking her," I said.

My lunch partner was aghast. "Won't that hurt her?" her asked.

"Probably," I responded, "but maybe she'll like it."

After a period of refreshing, if awkward, silence, during which he mulled over my advice, he hesitantly said that he might give spanking a try. Truthfully, I thought this guy was more likely to be spanked than to give a spanking, but I wanted to move the conversation past his problems, so I let it go. We finished our lunch and went our own ways.

Later that day, I related our conversation to Angela. "Good answer," was her response. I thought she was being sarcastic.

"No, seriously, Frank, that was a good answer. If this guy's wife is bored in bed, anything he does to take charge and change things up will probably turn her on."

A few days later, my friend called me to relate what had happened, even though I had forgotten about our earlier discussion and didn't really care anyway.

Apparently, when my he went home that night, he asked his wife to come to the bedroom where he wanted to talk to her. He nervously told her that she had been bad and he was going to spank her. He took hold of her arm and pulled her over his lap, then tentatively patted her bottom a couple of times. He then proceeded to confess that he was afraid that she wanted to leave him and that he'd do anything so that she'd remain his wife. This little whiny disclosure somewhat irritated his wife, who responded be telling him:

"Will you just stop your complaining and spank me already!!"

My friend reacted by whacking her butt, rather hard, several times. He said that he was shocked at his actions, and started to apologize when his wife said, "I dare you to try that again!" He took the dare.

To make a long story less long, they proceeded to engage in an exuberant, naked romp. Afterwards, he told her how much he admired his wife's red butt, and she admitted that she liked the warm feeling that remained on her cheeks. After some cuddling, they romped again. Now, he said, if either of them even hints at spanking, they both get so aroused that they practically run right to the bedroom.

I was going to tell him that it might be fun if they didn't bother with the bedroom, but I figured that I'd save that one for the next person who needed advice about their sex life.

Tuesday, April 06, 2010


How A Spanko Enjoys The Final Four

I was sitting around early Saturday evening waiting for the Final Four of the college basketball tournament to begin when I heard my eldest daughter, Maribel, say those words to my other daughter, Colette, and her boyfriend, Luke, that always put a smile on a healthy spanko's face:

"Hey, guys, how about we go out and get some pizza and maybe see a movie? My treat!"

Translation: Mom and Dad need some time alone so that they can have some nice, noisy sex, so let's get out of their way for a few hours.

Maribel, who's twenty-four and is a spanko in her own right (although we don't talk about that), plays professional basketball in Europe. Her season is over, so she is back home. She usually is just as attached to the television during the NCAA tournament as I am. However, recently her interest has been more on the women's side of the game, and since the ladies were not in action Saturday, she was looking to spend the evening out. Colette had played a softball game earlier in the day (in the drizzle and mud, as per tradition at this time of year in this part of the country), and she didn't seem interested in sitting around the house, so she was more than happy to accompany her sister. Luke was content to go anywhere Colette went.

While Colette and Luke were getting ready, I approached Maribel and slipped her twenty bucks. "Please keep them busy," I told her, "and do NOT get home before eleven PM!" With a big grin, Maribel told me that she would be happy to stay out late, and would call me if by some chance they were going to be back early.

As we watched the three of them drive off (they were meeting Maribel's boyfriend at the pizza restaurant), Angela said to me, "I'll meet you back in the living room. I need to to grab a few things." By "things" I knew she meant "spanking implements."

"And make sure that your pants are off when I get back!" she called over her shoulder as she disappeared.

While Angela was making her preparations, I made us some Nilgiri tea. When she returned, she had removed her pants, and, in fact, had changed into a cute little t-shirt that loosely hung about half-way down her cute little tush. She was carrying a blanket and several paddles of varying sizes and weights. We snuggled down under the blanket on the sofa in front of the fireplace and sipped on our tea and watched a little more hoops. Then Angela slid over my lap and said, "I'm a little cold. Could you warm me up?"

I reached for a hairbrush paddle and gave Angela's bare bottom a series of slow, sharp whacks while we continued to enjoy the game. I gradually increased the intensity until her cheeks were a nice, pale shade of red. I set down the paddle and rubbed her rump, allowing my hands to share the warmth on her tush. I then took up the paddle again and added some warmth.

After a while, we switched positions and Angela used my warmed butt to warm her hands, that is after she properly warmed my butt. When her legs became tired because I was laying across them, I knelt, backwards, on the sofa and bent over the sofa back. I didn't like this because I could not see the game while I was being spanked. So I settled into a convenient position over an ottoman where I could see the television and Angela could comfortably whip my butt with a strap.

After both of us were well-warmed, we watched the dramatic conclusion of game one (gotta love those Bulldogs!), and then decided to get serious, spanking-wise. I laid Angela over the sofa and work her over with the strap, then piled the sofa cushions up underneath her so that I could lay into her with a leather paddle. I even pulled her cute little bottom-cheeks apart and used the hairbrush paddle to spank the tender flesh there. When I was finished, her rear end was a nice, uniform shade of deep crimson, top to bottom and side to side.

We switched positions, with me laying over the cushions and Angela wielding the weapons of mass-butt destruction (yes, that was a bad turn of phrase ... sue me). She used the leather paddle with vigor, then took up the strap to work on the more sensitive areas where the thighs meet the buttocks. Angela knows just where to strike to generate the most pain, which was intense and wonderful. Finally, she took the hairbrush paddle and had me stand up and bend over the cushions. She had me rise up on my toes to give her a more generous target, and then proceeded to pummel my poor fanny until her arm tired out. At spankings end, my backside was hot enough to barbecue hot dogs.

Angela set down the paddle and, while I was still over the cushions, continued to work on my butt, only this time instead of whacks and slaps it was with squeezes and rubs. Her hands proceeded to explore beyond my cheeks, then her tongue replaced her hands, then ... well, you get the picture.

Suddenly, Angela remarked, "Looks like the second game is starting."

"That's okay," I breathlessly replied.

"Don't you want to watch?"

"If I miss the first few minutes, I won't mind."

"Nonsense," replied Angela. She had me get up and she replaced the cushions to where they belonged. Then she sat me down in front of the TV.

"Can you see the screen?" she asked.

"Well... yeah," I answered, somewhat disgruntled.

"Good," said she. She then proceeded to kneel in front of me, gently part my legs with her hands, and resumed her "exploring." It quickly became difficult to pay attention to the basketball action, but I didn't mind. I was having some action of my own.

For this next part, you might want to send the children out of the room.

Angela rose up and climbed onto the sofa, straddling my hips. Slowly, she lowered herself onto me. As per what usually happens when she does this, my eyes rolled up into my head, my head lolled back, and the noises I began to make cannot be described and can only be imagined by someone who has been there. Eventually, I felt Angela's heart begin to beat faster, and she wrapped her arms tightly around me as she continued her ride to ecstasy. Her own breathing became faster and noisier, and her arms held me tighter. We climaxed together in a sweaty, noisy embrace.

We sat there just holding each other for several moments, catching our collective breath. When my eyes refocused, I glanced over and saw the dog, Flash, staring at the two of us like we were completely crazy.

Well, I suppose that, for at least a while, we were.

We disenganled, and Angela dismounted and sat next to me on the sofa. We cuddled for a bit, and then Angela turned to me, stretched, and said, "Shall I go and get the paddle?"

At this point, two things need clarification.

Point number one is that, in the Spanko vernacular, the phrase "the paddle" has only one meaning: The big, long, rather heavy wooden spanking paddle, in the fashion of a school or fraternity paddle.

Point number two is that I am a person who greatly adores a good, post-coital paddling. Feeling the clout of the sturdy wood against my already well-spanked derriere while I am relaxed and calm is, to me, a most pleasant sensation.

Angela scurried off and fetched the paddle. With her cute behind all nice and red, Angela looks simply adorable when she scurries and fetches. As she was returning, she tried to put on her "business" face. "You're really gonna get it now, mister!" she said. She tried to sound stern, but quickly dissolved into giggles. I stood up and moved behind the sofa, which sits in the middle of the room, piled up a couple of cushions so that I didn't have to stretch my hamstrings too much (it sucks getting old), and bent over, presenting a waiting bottom my darling wife.

"How would you like it, sir?" she sarcastically asked.

"How about medium rare," I responded.

"Sorry, sir, but we prepare everything here well done!" And with that, Angela proceeded to deliver twenty-five nice, hard swats to my butt. When she finished, I was wonderfully warm and sore. I knew that sitting would remind me of tonight's activities for several days.

"How was that, sir?" said my wife.

"That was very nice, thank-you."

"Well," Angela said, "I settle for nothing less than perfection, and your butt is not quite perfectly done yet!" So Angela laid on twenty-five more swats.

I do so appreciate being married to a spanking perfectionist.

When Angela finished paddling me, I thanked her by making ice cream sundaes for both of us, complete, naturally, with a cherry on the top. Then we settled down to watch the rest of the basketball game.

Just as the game was ending, Maribel called. "Are you guys finished, or should I take everyone out for ice cream?" she asked. I chuckled at my daughter's insolence. I told her that we had enjoyed peacefully watching the games, which was essentially true except that we did other things besides just watching. I also told her that, should they wish ice cream, that I had some genuine Saunders' fudge sauce that they could use for topping if they wanted to head back to the house. Colette simply loves Saunders' fudge sauce.

The offspring and their respective beaus arrived home in due course. Angela and I sincerely thanked Maribel for taking our other charges out for the evening. "No problem," responded Maribel. "Oh, and we're using in the guest house tonight." Apparently, Maribel and the boyfriend were planning on making some noise of their own.

I was more than happy to leave them to their young libidos. After all, since Angela and I had enjoyed a fantastic spanking, they deserved to enjoy some, too.

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