Back Forty Love

This tale is kind of a sequel to the infamous boat story.

We had planned to drive our daughter over to visit her friend in another state. She will stay there all week (which should provide plenty of opportunity for playtime for Mom and Dad!). It's about a three-hour drive. On Friday, Randy hinted that he had "something new" in store for me. I figured this meant spanking and sex, but beyond that I had no idea why lay ahead. I even asked him, but he wouldn't tell me.

On Saturday, we drove to our destination as planned. We arrived at the friend's house about 2 pm. After chatting for a while, we departed for home (or so I thought). The friend's house was located in the suburbs. Our normal return route would have been to retrace our path around the beltway. Instead, Randy headed toward downtown. I asked, "Where are we going?" He told me that he had reserved a room for us at a downtown hotel. Now that sounded romantic. What a sweet idea! Yet, my intuition (and twenty years of experience) told me there had to be more to the plan.

When we arrived at the hotel, we parked in the garage and then walked to the lobby. I'll bet we looked pretty funny strolling into that upscale lodging with no luggage other than Randy's ratty old gym bag (full of toys no doubt). We checked in and went up to our room. The room was spacious and nicely decorated. I lamented that I didn't bring a change of clothes, PJs, makeup, toothbrush, and all the other things that make me feel human. Randy smiled and said, "Don't worry. I brought some stuff for you." I could only imagine. He asked if I would like to share a shower before dinner. I interpreted this to mean, "Let's fool around." That sounded good to me.

Instead, we had a long, relaxing, hugging, kissing, touching, you-wash-me-and-I'll-wash-you, let's-play-with-the-shower-massage kind of shower. It was fun. I expected the action to continue after we got out, but Randy suggested we should get dressed for dinner. "You know how these restaurants fill up on Saturday night," he said. With that, he reached into his gym bag and removed a paper department store bag. He then tossed it to me. The bag, he said, contained my clothing for the evening. There was a sleeveless white cotton top. That looked all right. Next, I found a very short white pleated tennis skirt that matched the top. Uh oh, this could be trouble. Finally, there was a pair of white nylon tennis panties. They were definitely too small. While I momentarily pondered my next move, Randy said, "C'mon Bon, let's see how they look."

I thought I looked ridiculous. I don't even play tennis. The top fit great, but I had no sports bra to wear with it. I improvised. The panties were indeed very tight and not quite big enough to cover my cheeks. It seems Randy had no idea that real tennis players wear underwear beneath those briefs. The skirt fit me around the waist, but it obviously wasn't designed to be worn by someone with my, um, full derriere. When I looked in the mirror, I saw my bottom peeking out from beneath the skirt. I now had a pretty good idea what he had in mind (or so I thought).

Randy came over and kissed me and told me he thought I looked beautiful (to illustrate his tastes, he thinks I'm most attractive when I'm bent over cleaning the bathtub). As he moved his hands all over my body, all of the thoughts and feelings that began in the shower now intensified. When he pulled a wooden hairbrush from the bag, I was neither shocked nor disappointed. I started to remove the tennis outfit when he gently stopped me. "Leave it on. It'll be fun," he whispered. He then led me over to the reclining chair in the corner of the room (this was a nice hotel!). I knelt down so my chest was against the seat and my knees were on the floor. My bottom, needless to say, was sticking up like twin targets.

Next, my Prince Charming lifted the skirt (as though that made any difference at all in this exposed position) and struggled to lower my ill-fitting briefs. With the latter action, he explained that I might need them later. After turning on the TV (presumably to drown out the sounds of me getting tanned), he let me lie there for a minute or two just to ponder my fate. In his right hand, he held the brush I knew so very well. With his left hand, he began to rock the recliner back and forth. Each time I moved back, he smacked my bottom with the hairbrush. Later he told me he was trying to develop a rhythm and add a little extra oomph to each swat. I don't know about the rhythm, but I definitely felt some major oomph. As I rocked back and forth, Randy used a kind of an upward swing on my lower slopes. Believe me, this technique is absolutely guaranteed to interfere with your ability to sit.

Randy did his usual thorough job. By the time he had finished with my bottom, I was almost hyperventilating. He picked me up and hugged me. He brushed my hair with the very implement which moments before had stung my seat. He got me a drink of water and helped me to fix my clothes (such as they were). I was ready for lovemaking, but Randy wanted to go eat. Heated up as I was, I went along. I would have to collect my reward later.

I thought we were just going to the hotel's restaurant. It certainly looked good enough to me. Oh, no! Randy had to march me three blocks along downtown streets in a white tennis outfit (there probably wasn't a single court within miles). Suspecting those little white panties weren't adequate for their assignment, I asked him if the results of my spanking were visible. He took a quick glance and said, "Yeah, but only if you're looking at it." Swell. It was a good thing we were 175 miles from home.

Finally, we reached the restaurant he selected. It was a Chinese/Pan-Asian buffet. There was a pretty good crowd. We walked in and were seated quickly (ouch!). Randy then smiled and said, "Let’s go try the buffet." And so we did. As soon as I reached the buffet table, I recognized that serving myself required me to bend forward and expose more of my flaming bottom. Because there were restaurant employees stationed behind the table, I had no choice but to essentially moon the whole restaurant. This was an embarrassing situation, but in a strange way, it was also very arousing. Based upon the surprised and curious looks I received as I made my way back to our table, I had little doubt that several diners had correctly concluded that I was one well-spanked woman. I did little to dispel this notion as I squirmed involuntarily on the hot vinyl seat. Randy went back for a second helping, but for some reason, I just didn't feel that hungry.

After dinner, we returned to our room. Prince Charming was stuffed and ready to settle in and watch some tube. There was no way that was going to happen. My loving was too long overdue. Boldly, I said with hands firmly on hips, "Look mister, you need to finish what you started!" He smiled broadly and said "OK." With that he got up, reached into his bag of tricks, and removed the slapper. I was really in for it now. He told me to lower my panties, bend over, and grab my ankles. For lack of a better suggestion, I complied.

As everyone knows, spankings hurt a lot (as I am periodically reminded, they're supposed to hurt). But receiving one spanking on top of another an hour apart is just a whole other experience. Randy applied that leather slapper to my already glowing bottom with a stinging staccato cadence. I don't know whether he was annoyed about me pestering him for sex or if it was all part of the plan, but he really got into his role as disciplinarian. I didn't actually cry (for whatever reason, I seldom do during spankings), but I did have tears in my eyes. The searing pain was incredibly intense. So, of course, was my lust.

When at long last Randy told me I could get up, I nearly attacked him. Within moments, the clothes were off and the lovemaking was underway. Randy placed me face down on the seat of the rocking recliner where I had been spanked earlier. He then knelt and joined his body with mine. This time when the chair rocked back and forth I experienced an entirely different set of sensations. If you and your man haven't tried this trick, I wholeheartedly recommend it! Almost instantly, I was lost in a whirling orgasmic haze. It's a toss-up as to who was more tired when we finished. I know I was satisfied, but very, very sore.

After a good night's sleep, we ate an early breakfast and headed home. I spent this morning sitting uncomfortably in the car. Randy hadn't thought to bring along a pillow for me. I’ve long suspected he derives some perverse pleasure from watching me wiggle. During the drive, he told me that I was the inspiration for this adventure. "How so?" I inquired. He explained that at end of the boat story (which I let him read), I said something about wanting to recreate that scenario. This was his response. I've said it before and I'll say it again, he's one creative fellow.

Keywords: spanking, spanking adventure, spanking stories