A Swinging Rhythm

Randy was out of town for a few days. He returned home last night. Anyone familiar with this blog won’t be surprised to learn that our happy reunion included a spanking. It was a fine spanking at that.

When he walked through the door, he looked tired from his long trip, yet nonetheless happy to see me. We embraced and smooched. He quickly betrayed his true intent by briskly striking my rear several times with his hand. “Ooo, I like that.” I cooed longingly. He suggested that we retire to the bedroom. He heard no argument from me.

Once upstairs, we rapidly undressed each other, trading kisses, licks, nibbles, and caresses along the way. With our clothing strewn across the floor and our bodies entwined upon the bed, the fun began in earnest. He had me lie face down with pillows beneath my hips. He knelt beside me and began rubbing my bottom. He commented that it was ever so slightly pink from our brief encounter in the front hall. His hands then worked their spanko alchemy as pink was gradually transformed to red. Needless to say, I was thrilled by his delightful attention.

What I recall most vividly about this particular spanking was the rhythm. Sometimes during a spanking, I am aware of little beyond the rising heat and sting behind. On this occasion, for whatever reason, I was a bit more observant. Randy, it seems, has the ability to alter his spanking cadence to fit the situation. Last night, he employed one hand on each cheek and used hard and soft swats to pound out a beat:

Whack… Whack… Whack… Whack… Swat… Whack… Swat… Whack…

He repeated this percussive pattern over and over. It made a surprisingly melodious sound. He would occasionally change up the pace or the sequence in improvisational fashion, but always returned to this now-familiar beat.

I loved it. My dear husband was happily home again and using me as his musical instrument. Both figuratively and literally, we made beautiful music together. I received a great spanking and he relieved five hundred miles of frustration through drumming therapy.

Eventually, he determined that the time had come for a different sort of harmony. He told me to lift my bottom up and spread my legs. When I complied, he mounted me. The lovemaking was fast and rough. His powerful hands tightly grasped my hips as he penetrated to the hilt. Before long, I was riding atop waves of exhilarating orgasm. It was lovely. He too soon found his pleasure deep within me.

I’m so glad he’s back!

Keywords: spanking, spanking story, rhythmic spanking