“This is so romantic darling. Just you and I, alone, together, by ourselves, all is quiet…”
“Except for the bug zapper.”
“The stars shining brightly.”
“Washed out by streetlight’s glare.”
“The moon rising over the horizon.”
“That’s the ball field.”
“The gentle songs of nature going to bed.”
“The roar of the highway.”
“What is wrong with you!? I’ve got your favorite wine, the pastries and the fresh fruit. We’re on the porch swing, it’s warm and the kids are at your parents for the weekend. I gave you new lingerie, an iPhone and a gift certificate to the spa. What else can I do?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
The heavy Tennessee air lay on my skin like a lover. July 4th weekend, her birthday and instead of kissing and fondling leading to hot sex, there were salty tears. She’d given me children, passion, meals and she was the center of my heart. I’d given her love, a safe home and security. After fifteen years together I thought I knew everything about her. But these tears, this distress, this, I did not understand.
“Understand what?”
She swiped her eyes and stared blankly out into the night.
“Listen.”
I listened. The sounds of the neighborhood: barking dogs, music, car doors slamming, teens splashing pool water, arguments, television and fireworks. All normal sounds barely noticed.
“I don’t hear anything abnormal.”
“There is something missing.”
“What?”
“It’s my birthday. There is something missing.”
“You want me to sing happy birthday?”
“No.”
“What’s missing then? I don’t understand.”
She smiled sadly at me and gently touched my face.
“There’s no sounds of spanking my love. There should be sounds of spankings on my birthday.”
My mouth dropped open in shock. My wife, my beautiful wife, mother of our children, school volunteer, part-time bank teller was telling me… she wanted a spanking?
“I’ve never even thought. I mean we have a great sex life. I never even thought…”
“I know.”
“How long?”
“Forever.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She put her finger over my lips and gently shook her head.
“I couldn’t… before.”
We sat together quietly in the gathering darkness, fireflies flashing, frogs croaking and never, ever, had I felt so distant. Before? Before what? My thoughts tumbled like puppies. She wanted a spanking. She wanted a birthday spanking!
“Is that what you really want for your birthday?”
I felt her nod against my shoulder.
“All right. Let’s go inside.”
I stared at her ass as she walked up the stairs. The thought of spanking it seemed so surreal. She asked me wait on the bed while she changed. When she returned from the bathroom, she was dressed in my gift, a long red silk gown slit up the side. In her hand, a wooden short-handled bath brush. In her eyes, a plea for understanding and compassion and mercy. I rose to meet her, my lips crushing hers, my hands capturing her rounded bottom and squeezing tightly with passionate possession. This woman, my wife, was mine and having come this far, I refused to disappoint her.
“How do you want me to do this?”
“I thought… bending over the bed… maybe?”
“Not over my knee?”
“Well… that way… after… you can take me. Anyway you want.”
I took the brush. She bent over, raised her gown, and laid down on the duvet. Her bottom, widened with childbirth, was all womanly curves; funny how I’d never thought of spanking before, but now, spread out before me like a pagan sacrifice, I could think of nothing else but the need to punish.
“I know you want this darling, but how hard do y…”
“Hard please. Thirty six hard spanks. Ooohhhh!”
I smacked the bath brush down onto her bare bottom, the impact rippling, the noise shockingly loud. One, two, three… ten, eleven.
“Slower please! Slower. Let me catch my breath.”
I slowly gave her another ten spanks, alternating between cheeks. I stopped to rub the back of the brush across her pink flesh. I was enthralled by the contrast in colors. I wondered if I should spank all over or concentrate in the same area. So I asked.
“Only fifteen left? Then I want the next ten in my sit spots, five per side. Then, give me the last five where my butt meets my thighs. And honey? I want those last five super hard and super fast.”
Methodically I spanked her over and over again, pink getting darker and darker. I paused and asked her to raise her bottom up high for the last five.
“You asked for it.”
I drew my arm back and fired the brush, one, two, three, four, five right at the base of her untouched bottom. It was over before she could even yell. But yell she did and lunged forward onto the bed, her hands flying back to grab her flaming flesh. I lunged forward as well, pants dropped, hands gripped hips, I rammed deep; the need to dominate, to punish, to take her for my pleasure alone, this would definitely not be her last spanking. I spilled convulsively into her clinging depths and slumped over her back. The silk was cool, her bottom was hot and I softly licked her salty neck.
“Happy birthday.”
Spank Me Hard! ... Please? 