This page hosted by
Get your own Free Home PageCan someone explain something to me please? Why is it that we are not ashamed to eat in public? Because it's a physical need that we all share, right? It's part of being human just like breathing and we don't ever have to say, "Excuse me but I have to take in some new air." And speaking of excusing yourself, nobody gets terribly upset if you ask for a break during a meeting to use the toilet. Usually the attendees split into two groups and use the opportunity to fulfill their biological requirements to eliminate waste also. Granted, we don't compare notes afterwards but it is an normal function and everybody has to do it many times each day.
But try this sometime. "Can we take a break. There's a man waiting for me down the hall and we want to have sexual intercourse. It'll only take a few minutes but I've been as horny as hell and can't really concentrate until I take care of that. Oh and if you don't mind, I'll stand during the rest of the meeting since he's going to spank me severely first. Be back in a jiffy. Bye."
You have to admit, that's something you don't normally hear in today's business world. Or how about chatting with a neighbor? It's perfectly acceptable to talk about mutual interests like raising aardvarks to cut down on the ant problem and just as you're asking if he intends to attend the AAAA (American Aardvark Aficionados Association) convention you stop short and say, "Opps, look at the time. I'd better get going. You know how Fred gets when I'm not naked and kneeling at the door when he comes home? He likes to shed the cares of the day by turning my rear end bright red with his favorite paddle before I give him a blow job. Got to run. See you later."
Get my drift? Why can't we treat sex like the rest of things we do in life. Everybody knows two people living together do it but it's like some deep dark secret that they have genitals that like to meet each other now and then. And if they subtly admit they share sexual delights it had better be in the proscribed manner, whatever that is. Oh, and let's not forget that a single woman living alone (like me for instance) isn't allowed to even think about such a socially unacceptable subject.
All this is leading up to a specific event but I have to pave the way with a few more rhetorical questions first so if you'll bear with me a little bit more I'll finally get to my point.
Wait a minute. I've forgotten what my point was. Lets see, food, breathing, sex and business meetings, sex and the neighbor with the aardvarks, single women and no sex... Oh, that's it, groceries.
Have you ever gone into a grocery store and had person at the checkout look at your purchases and say, "Well miss, I see you like Italian food. Would you like me to come with you and show you my spaghetti?" Actually, now that I think of it, that did happen to me once but it was really something about zucchini and chocolate milk. Anyway, you'll probably agree that you usually aren't faced with the third degree and feel you have to justify the kind of food you like. Now lets add neighbors into the equation again. Do you run and hide if you meet someone you know in the grocery store so they won't look in your cart and see evidence that you're human and need to buy food, toilet paper and feminine hygiene products? No you don't. So why is it that when I go into an adult bookstore to get the latest spanking magazines I have to endure leering clerks and fellow shoppers making lewd comments about my ass. Last time I looked, everybody was equipped with one and so what if I like to spend a quiet evening with the magazine, some chocolate milk and a really big zucchini. Whose business is it? Theirs? I don't think so.
So, here I am undergoing my monthly humiliation and wishing this magazine had a subscription service so I would only have to face the mailman's sneer. Just as I get to the counter and brace myself for the clerk's mandatory invitation to let him show me the way to really have a good time my next door neighbor comes up to the counter right next to me and says. "Hello." Not the one with the aardvarks but the one on the other side. The one who's devilishly handsome and a picture of virility that would make any woman swoon and beg him to take their clothes off, spank them unmercifully and split them in two with his massive organ. (I had to put that in because he's letting me use his e-mall to post this. Actually he's more along the lines of... Opps, he's looking over my shoulder so I better get back to my story.) Where was I? Zucchini, spanking, leering clerk... Oh, that's it, neighbor.
He says hello and I want to disappear especially when he picks up the magazine that he can see I intend to purchase. I don't see that much of him anyway and it looks like I'll have to make doubly sure to avoid him in the future but he surprises me. He doesn't choose one of the two embarrassing options which are to try and uncomfortably ignore the obvious or say something about what he thinks of a single, unattached and no sign of a boyfriend female buying that sort of printed material. Instead he says, "So you're the one who got the last copy of that. I asked for it and was told a very pretty woman got there just ahead of me and I had to settle for this one. It's not near as good as the one you have but it'll have to do. I'm lucky I saw you. Would you mind if I borrowed that when you're done reading it? If it's as good as it usually is I might even violate a few laws and make copies of the better pages."
I responded, "I, uh, um , er, I, well, I guess, uh, I, um, if you, I mean, sure, um, yes, er, sure, I'll see you." During my eloquent speech the clerk finished ringing up the sale and I was out of there in a flash. As I drove out of the parking lot he was coming out of the store and waved as if we had just exchanged pleasantries in the hardware store. By the way, they have the neatest stuff in hardware stores. Beautiful chains of all sizes, wooden paint stirrers that look like they wouldn't last a whole spanking but if you had four or five handy they would leave quite a sting, marvelous leather tool belts, wood dowels of varying sizes for different levels of flexibility when connecting with a tightly bent over rear end, and...
Where was I? Magazines, neighbor (no aardvark), chains, leather... Oh that's it, cars. The one consolation about meeting him was I managed to escape without having to hear the clerk's suggestion that I do something with him that somehow involves cheese whiz and a car battery. (That was his not too hard to resist invitation last month.)
For the next week I was getting into trouble at work for coming in late since I would wait to see my neighbor leave before I went out to my car. I made up for the missed time by staying late. That kept my boss satisfied and I figured I would arrive home after my devilishly handsome and a picture of virility that would make any woman swoon and beg him to take their clothes off, spank them unmercifully and split them in two with his massive organ neighbor did and I could get into my house without meeting him. That lasted till Friday.
I didn't see him as I drove up and he startled me as I got out of the car. He had been walking his aardvark, no, that's not right. He's not the one with the aardvark. He must have been walking his hamster but he doesn't have a hamster either. He has a cat but he wouldn't be taking that out for walk now would he? What was he doing? I don't remember but he was out walking and now he was standing next to me. I was just as much in command of the English language as I was at our last meeting and all I wanted was to get away from him. Not out of fear but it was just too...
Too what? What exactly was I afraid of? The man on the other side of my house and I got along fine because we had a shared interest in AAAA. And it seemed the devilishly handsome and a picture of virility that would make any woman swoon and beg him to take their clothes off, spank them unmercifully and split them in two with his massive organ neighbor and I also had something in common. If he wasn't embarrassed for me to know he liked to read spanking magazines why did I feel an overwhelming desire for a nice earthquake to open the ground and swallow me.
Because I was a single woman and he was a single devilishly handsome and a picture of... (Do I have to refer to you that way every time? Can't I tell them your name? I see. Then can I just call you Mr. Q and they'll know I mean all that other stuff? Good. I'll try that sentence again.)
Because I was a single woman of uncanny beauty with a sweet personality that sparkled of innocence with just a hint of untapped eroticism and a body that is the living model of perfection that every woman strives for and makes men drool and beg for the opportunity to stare at if only from a distance so I would haunt their dreams for the rest of their lives and he was Mr. Q. (Ha, gotcha.) All right, neither one of were going to stop people in their tracks but in our own way, we were pleasant looking and comfortable with ourselves.
Where was I? Let's see, hamsters, cats, uncanny beauty... Oh, that's it, spanking.
That was our common interest and as far as I was concerned I would stick with the AAAA but he said he'd like to rip my pants off me right there in the middle of the street and bend me over the hood of the car and spank me until...
No, that's not what he said, that's what I though he said until I cleared my head. What he really said was, "I'm going to steam some asparagus and throw together a batch of almond chicken and I always make too much for one person so would you care to join me for dinner?"
My answer took a whole lot of words and most of them didn't make sense but worst of all, I inadvertently said, "Yes."
He smiled and said, "Wonderful. I'll see you in one hour and if you're done with that book on spelunking I saw you buy, bring it with you."
My first response was, "Huh?" but then I saw my other neighbor coming up behind me. He was walking his aardvark and said, "How interesting. I'm a charter member of that American Spelunking Society. Yes, I'm proud to say I've been an ASS for years."
Comparing him to that little bit of class my spanking neighbor just showed convinced me of the truth of Mr. Aardvark's last statement. Maybe accepting the dinner invitation wasn't such a bad idea after all.
One hour later I was back to being a little nervous as I knocked on Mr. Q's front door. He met me dressed in black leather and holding a whip in his hand as he said, "Glad you could make it. Take those clothes off this instant and get yourself over the table. I intend to whip you and set your ass on fire.."
No, no, that's not what he said. That's what I was thinking. The black leather was a dark colored apron and the whip was a whisk. He wanted to take my coat and asked if I would set the table while he finished mixing up his secret sauce and then he would start cooking.
When I joined him in the kitchen he was a model of efficiency. Everything was laid out so he wouldn't have to move more than a foot or two while the wok was hot and nothing would get overdone. He wielded the metal spatula like an expert and he said, "This is nothing. Wait until I use it on your sassy bottom and you'll see a truly burning sensation it can deliver."
No, no, that's not what he said. That's what I must of been hoping he said. I think he was referring to having the heat too high and was worried about the food burning on the bottom of the wok. It didn't and the meal was delicious. Truly this man was a world class chef whose culinary expertise would enhance the kitchen of any five star restaurant. (Remember, he's reading this too.)
After dinner he made some coffee and we sat and chatted. We found out we had a lot more in common than those magazines and I started feeling very comfortable with him. That lasted until he picked up the one I brought with me and flipped through the pages. He seemed to enjoy the pictures and would say things like, "My, my. What naughty little girl she must have been to need a spanking like that." And, "Just look at this rear end. Even before the next pictures that show her getting spanked you can see from the first one that she loves to be spanked. Look at the way she's smiling. She knows it's going to be a long spanking and she wants it. Marvelous, just marvelous. Would you like a zucchini?"
Huh? No, no he's only asking if I want more coffee. "Sure", I say, "but I need to use your bathroom for a minute first."
He directed me towards the necessary while he refilled the cups. When I came out he grabbed me and dragged me into the bedroom where there were ropes and chains lying on the bed just waiting for me. My clothes were torn off my body and I was totally unable to prevent him from tying me in a very vulnerable position before showing me the straps, crops, whips and canes he intended to use one after another so I would experience his entire repertoire before the sun rose again. Then he would...
No, no, that's not what he did. That's what I was fantasizing while sitting on the toilet. I wondered if it would be polite for me to shout through the door that I was going to masturbate for a while but would be out in about a half hour. I decided I should wait until I got home and the zucchini's were going to have a field day.
When I really returned he stood up like the gentleman he was and we sat together again. We were much closer than before as we perused the magazine and it dawned on me that he was in the same spot. It was me who chose to sit right next to him and before I knew it, I was adding commentary to his observations regarding the women in the pictures. We were both laughing and having a good time and from a glance when we lifted the magazine to turn the page, it looked like he was finding this a tad arousing. I knew I was and I shifted even closer.
As we closed the magazine he said, "Truly wonderful. If you don't mind I'll keep this until I get to work and use the copying machine. There are one or two I want to save. Which ones were your favorites?"
That was a hard question for two reasons. First, I really liked a lot of them and couldn't really say which one was the absolute best and second, this was getting a little close to being a bit too personal. Ha! If I thought asking me my taste in erotic pictures was personal his next question left that way behind. Since this magazine was entirely men spanking women he just assumed that I felt that was the proper order. Actually he was right so his question as to which position was my favorite for getting spanked was probably not out of line. He was just making polite small talk. Where's a good earthquake when you need one.
What's more embarrassing? Telling the neighbor just recently got to know how you'ld like to have a man bare your rear end and spank you till your crying with pain and begging him to split you in two with his massive organ or to tell him the truth. And that was that I hadn't been spanked since I was a little girl and even they were never on the bare. Once again I proved the there can never be too many words in a sentence even if most of them are monosyllabic hesitations but somehow, between and interspersed in the gibberish I said the words, "Never" and "been" and (this was the hardest one of all) "spanked".
He shouted that it was time he remedied that situation and dragged me to his bedroom where there were...
Wait, that was from when I was in the bathroom. I know my face was red as a beet to tell him that when it came to spankings I was as green as a zucchini. Oh, gee, why did I have to think of zucchinis at a time like that. He's going to need to have these cushions cleaned if I get any wetter. Anyway, he put his arm around me and pulled me down on his lap before raising my skirt and...
Sorry, just me wishing again. His arm gave me a gentle hug as he said, "There's nothing to be ashamed of. I've never spanked anyone and I enjoy the pictures so I see nothing wrong with you having fantasies without ever experiencing them either. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."
Was that what I wanted? A gentleman friend who was concerned about my image in the neighborhood and would provide a fun companion to share erotic pictures and stories but didn't want to make me feel threatened? Or did I want him to make me really uncomfortable by giving me the stinging rear end I had dreamed about? All I had on under this dress were my best panties. Was I thinking of this possibility when I changed clothes before dinner? I don't really know but whether I planned it or not I was ready for him to show me what he learned from that magazine. Why the hell didn't he pull me down over his lap? Because he was a gentleman damn him. So back to my first questions. What is so terrible about sex and spanking that we are afraid to talk about how we really feel and what we really want? The answer, "NOTHING!"
I put myself over his lap and said, "Spank me. Pull my dress up and take down my panties. Spank me until my bottom is bright red and then take me to your bed and make love to me hard and fast and then slow and gentle until tomorrow morning."
No, wait. Did I really say that?
Yes, I did and he was such of a gentleman he couldn't bring himself to refuse a lady's request.
As he says, life is good.
By the way, did you know can actually cook with zucchinis?
Get your own Free Home Page