It’s been a beautiful day. We’re springing into summer & I dig out my favourite warm-day dress. It’s floaty & feels great against my legs as my movements & the breeze make it flick my skin saying ‘Winter is gone & you can look and feel cute & free again.’
We walk along, both of us feeling great. I sense that he’s feeling a leedle bit naughty. Maybe that’s because I am too. Who knows? Maybe it’s the wine.
We stopped in a little glade to put out our wares. Picnic wares. Light fare ‘cos he’s getting fat. So am I but there’s no mention of that. Not since I waited ‘til he was snoozing & sat on his back & teased & spanked him until he promised - so tearfully - to never, ever, ever tease me about it again. And then I rolled him over & teased & teased until…
Yup. I made sure he came. And then waited until he rolled over exhausted & sleepy. And… I spanked again. Just a reminder. He’ll remember. Fondly. But with a wince. When you spank a boy who just came...
Strolling along now, feeling the wine, occasionally holding hands, chatting about this & that. Laughs. Giggles. He’s got such a cute giggle!
The wine was his downfall. We’re walking across the most stunning grassland, the wind rushing across it, a susurrus of spring sounding how pleased she is with herself. And the boy (boy:he’s in his 60th decade on his way to wherever) the boy, flush with with wine, sees how the skirt of my frock is flipping & twirling & he seizes my hands & we dance a dance, twirling & - yes, giggling. I just know that he’s imagining my knickers showing. Any time I wear a skirt or dress he’s imagining my knickers. Because he’s that kind of boy.
We stop twirling, a little breathless from activity & giggles. He holds my hands tight as a cheeky breeze blows my skirt up flat against my back. I make to move my hand back to push it down. He grins his ‘I am gonna be deliberately naughty’ grin & won’t let me. After a bit I stop struggling. He watches me in my predicament, grinning like the holy fool he is. I watch the happiness wash his face.
His eyes raise from my knickers to over my shoulder. His smile broadens & I flick my chin over my shoulder. A couple, girl & guy, woman & man, also out strolling. The guy is looking. Guess where? The girl too. She’s pursed her lips to hide a smirk - or a smile? - at us. Or at my damn cute knickers. Dark blue under a yellow mid-thigh dress. Very, very cute. But not for public consumption. Unless I decide when the public get to see. Which I have damn-well not.
A wriggle, a struggle & I get my hands back & the frock is down, knickers concealed. The couple pass on.
I grab him & kiss him. I grab his hands - my turn for control now - & I lead him into a copse at the edge of the grass. I’m kissing & fondling & doing everything to give the impression that I’m turned on by his showing my knickers - MY knickers - to the world. OK. One couple. But I decide. Remember? And I am turned on. But that’s not the point of this exercise.
So we go from kissing, fondling, trousers unzipping and down, his knickers sliding teasingly down, my hands, tongue, hair eliciting the response I want. And…
He comes. I pull him down, still stroking, forcing groans & those little hissing gasps as I play with him, play like a musical prodigy on my naked instrument, play to climax. He ends up on his back breathing heavy. I roll him over, gently, so gently, so that he’s & massage his shoulders. The relaxation makes him boneless.
Quick as a winking witch, I’m astride his lower back, facing his bottom. Which is nicely relaxed & *so* ready.
The sexy langour that had hit him hard - it always does - started to fade. He wriggled a bit - I love a desperate wriggle on a boy - but I was well settled. I faced his bare bottom ready to make sure he remembered this lesson. Just as he learned the ‘We don’t talk about me being fat.’ lesson. Never, ever, ever…
I reached down & gave him 10 hard, loud spanks. They were gloriously loud. I was on brilliant, spanking form.
Noise: good, echoing through the trees. Impact: excellent; red handprints appearing almost immediately.
I stopped spanking to feel his cheeks, the warmth, the twitching. All good stuff.
Meanwhile he protested. Boys do that. “What, wait - ow! Why?” and other things, some physical. Trying to shake me off, full body shrugs. I loved it. The feel of a boy - my boy - between my thighs. Mine. I rubbed his bottom all over, hard rubs, soft, fleeting. Oh my! Oh mine! And then I reached down & pulled his knickers up.
“Huh..?” was his brief reaction. And I was speaking.
“So that was fun wasn’t it? Holding my hands so that they could see me with my skirt up. Watching you grinning like a 10 year-old, showing my knickers.”
As I spoke I grabbed my bag & pulled out my hairbrush. Not my only hairbrush. My travelling hairbrush. And I rubbed it on the seat of his knickers.
“And now here you are. And it’s time for your knickers to be showing. Trousers around your ankles. Out in the open. And me, with my hairbrush, ready for..?”
I paused.
He started “No. Look love-”
Three words & I was spanking as hard as I could. I’ve gotten good at this. I spanked those knickers with a will. With a vengeance. (how appropriate) until he was making so many cute noises. Begging noises were included. A little bit of begging gets me so excited. I covered every inch of that wriggling bottom.
And then I stopped, listening for the sniffles. There were a few. So…
“I’m going to keep spanking you.”
“No, I-”
Another spank.
“Hush & listen. I’m gonna keep spanking your cute knickers (they were cute - red briefs) & I won’t stop until you’re crying. Properly crying. And then you will admit - you will out-loud tell me - that holding me like that & flashing my knickers-”
“I didn’t mean-”
I spanked again. “Uh uh. No interruptions.” Lots of spanks until there were no interuptions. I stroked his knickers, feeling the warmth, the trembling. Seriously? Delish.
“As I was saying, flashing my knickers is a no-no. So…”
And I spanked his really naughty bottom until he was sobbing. And then I told him he must admit that it was *VERY* naughty to show my knickers to anyone without my permission. Which was why he’d gotten a post-orgasm spanking.
He admitted it. Uhuh. Several times. Squeakingly, squealingly, wrigglingly - he did. I confess that the wriggling as I straddled him got me quite…warm. Um! Hm! :-)
I didn’t let on that standing there with my knickers showing had been just a teensy bit of a turn-on. But it was…
And then I told him to beg me please - please - to take his knickers down & finish smacking his *very* naughty bare bottom. And to say ‘please’ lots. And maybe call me ‘Miss’ while doing so. I laid the embarrassment on with a trowel. (I wonder if a trowel might make for a good spanking..?)
And there was a *lot* of tearful complaining but eventually he did beg me. And those cute, red knickers slid right down. All the way to his knees. And I spent quite a bit of time smacking & teasing & - oh all sorts of things. And I discarded the brush because… oh because I could. And I love the feel of a properly spanked boy on my hands. And between my thighs...
We’re springing into summer. And I love it. And so does he. And I love him.
- - - Finita La Commedia - - -
