Monday, May 30, 2016

Too bad, so sad

 Before we get into today's story, let's take a moment  to remember why we celebrate this day. Thank you to all who have served, serve and will serve to keep us free. My heart goes out to you and to your families for the sacrifices they make each and every day.

Judy rolled over in bed in time to see her husband step out of the shower.  After thirty years, he still made her weak in the knees.  His black hair was tinged with gray now, but those steely blue eyes mesmerized her.  His body was still toned and muscular and she marveled that he was hers and hers alone. 

“Hey handsome, come over here and let me feast my eyes on you.”

He turned around in a manly pose but didn’t come any closer.  “Honey, I’m already late.  I said I meet the guys for breakfast before we had to be at the staging area.”

“Not even time for one little kiss, pretty please,” she begged.

“Okay, I can spare time for a kiss.” When he reached over to kiss her, she pulled him down on the bed with her.

“Honey, I don’t have time,”

“Sure you do.  She touched him, and his manhood sprang to life.”

“No, I don’t. “  She slid her hand up and down his shaft. “Does that change your mind?”

“No, it doesn’t.  Now stop fooling around, I’m going to be late.”  He tried getting up, but Judy wasn’t letting go. 

“Okay, enough of this.” He told her and he rolled her over and spanked her bare ass. At fifty-two  years old, she still had a fine ass.  He loved spanking her, whether it be for funishment or to let her know he was still in charge.  This morning’s smacks were a mixture of both. 

Judy oohed and aahed at the first spanks, but as his hand spanked her harder and harder, she began squirming around and trying to get away.

“I thought you were going to be late.” She complained.

“I have time for this,” he said with a chuckle.

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I invited you over.”

“Too bad, so sad.”  He told her and spanked her a little harder.  “I’m having fun now.”

Even through her complaints, her body gave her away.  Her excitement glistened on her thighs.  He stopped spanking, gave her a quick kiss and rose from the bed.  He watched her widen her eyes when she realized he was not about to succumb to her charms – not this time anyway.

“I guess I’m going to have to rely on my ‘go to friend’ this morning,” she told him as she reached over and took her vibrator out of the nightstand drawer.

“You do, and you’ll get another spanking when I get back.  Suit yourself.”

“What were your words a few minutes ago, ‘too bad, so sad.’ He heard the vibrator start to hum and felt the hitch in the pants he had only donned seconds ago.  He couldn’t watch her because if he did, he would definitely be late.   He took the remainder of his things and left the room.

Jack was in the military.  He was due to retire at the end of this enlistment so this would be his last parade with his unit.  They had been through a lot together and today was especially important to him because they had lost a member of their team on their last assignment.  He knew he needed the support of his comrades today and was pretty sure they needed it to.

He and Judy were having a barbecue later that afternoon, and they were all invited.  That was to celebrate all that was good in life, the parade was to celebrate fallen comrades and thank them and their families for the sacrifices they made.

His staff was already in the booth when he arrived.  They teased him, and he took it good-heartedly.  They all knew Judy and were jealous of their relationship after being married all those years.  They always asked him their secret and he would smile and say “Just keep it hands on,” and let it go. If any of them caught his innuendo, they never let on. 

Jack had grown up in the military and learned first hand that there could be only one leader.  His dad ruled the roost in their home, and although he didn’t know it for a fact, he suspected that his dad spanked his mom, at least early on in their marriage.  Based on a couple of stories they shared, it sounded like his mom was a handful and needed reining in occasionally.

When he met Judy, she was dating another guy in his unit.  She was giving this guy fits and when he’d complained to Jack, Jack told him he should either take her in hand or give her up.  He gave her up, and a few weeks later the fellow accepted a transfer overseas.  About a year later, he ran into her, and that was that.  She gave him fits too, but he told her early on that he wouldn’t tolerate her shenanigans and proved it by taking her over his knee whenever she got out of hand.

The first time he spanked her he wasn’t sure if he was going to end up being jailed and/or kicked out of the service.  She was a military brat and daddy’s little princess.  A temper tantrum allowed her to get what she wanted when she wanted.  Jack wasn’t about to put up with that.  What would happen if they had children?  She had to learn that how you acted as a child, didn’t work as an adult.  He proved it to her on a night she threw a temper tantrum because he had to cancel a date.  He had received an assignment, and when he told her, she began throwing things at him.  When a book grazed his ear, he took hold of her and upended her over his knee. 

She screamed bloody murder, but it didn’t deter him.  He lectured and spanked until his hand hurt.

“That’s what you can expect from me when you misbehave.  If you want to see me again, you’ll have to call me?” he told her before he left.

“Don’t be holding your breath, you brute,” she yelled at him as he walked out the door.


Well, she did call him and six months later they were married.  True to his word, she got spanked regularly at the beginning of their marriage.  Now it was mostly for fun and fun they had.


The parade ended and after the hugs and goodbyes, Jack left for home.  Judy had plenty of things for him to do before the guests started arriving but Jack told her they had some unfinished business.  She told him to go take a hike, she was busy.  He laughed and pulled her over his shoulder and carried her to his study.  Once there, he pulled up her dress, pushed down her panties and took her over his knee.  He opened his desk drawer and pulled out his ruler.

“No, no Jack.  Not the ruler. It will leave marks, and I will be wearing a bathing suit later.”

“I can’t believe this phrase is coming into use again today.  ‘Too bad, so sad,' you were warned, and you chose to not only ignore it but throw it in my face.  You’re getting this bottom reddened but good. It’s time I stop talking and start spanking.”  She felt the first swat of the ruler and the sound echoed around the room.  It stung like the dickens, and she sucked in her breath.  Before she was even ready, the ruler struck again and again on her bared flesh.

“Jack, stop please.” 

“I’m sorry, are you talking to me?”

“You know I am dammit.”  The minute the words left her mouth, she knew she was in deeper trouble.

The ruler came down in a steady stream of spanks, harder and harder.  Right cheek, left cheek and then five times in one spot.  She was wriggling around like a bead of water in a hot frying pan. 

“Stop, please stop.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Please stop sir.”

“I heard you that time.  A couple of more as a reminder.”  There were five swats on the lower half of her bottom and the last five on her thighs.  She howled when those were delivered.

“You’re a mean bastard, you know that.  That’s going to leave marks.”

He laughed.  “Keep it up girl, the ruler is still here in my hand.”  She felt him turn and put the ruler down.  He rubbed her back and rubbed a little of the sting out of her ass before letting her up

“So, do you want the real thing now or just your ‘go to friend?’”

“The hell with substitutes.  I want the real thing, I earned it.”

“That you did.”


Later that afternoon, Judy was out by the pool and he noticed she still had some faint marks on her thighs.  He smiled to himself and wondered if any of his buddies would notice and think about his statement “just keep it hands on.”

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Thursday, May 26, 2016

My Brain is Fried.

It's Thursday, and I went to bed Monday night.  How did that happen?  Not really but that's what it seems like to me. Time moves along way too quickly.  Our company left on Tuesday and after catching up on laundry and what not, I've taken on the task of joining the 21st century and getting on Instagram.

Apparently, that is the newest best way of promoting books to the younger generation. It's all well and good for those in the "younger generation" who speak the language or have folks nearby to gently nudge you along.  Not so easy for us who have reached a certain level of maturity.  After all, when I was their age we were still using typewriters.  I've progressed by leaps and bounds over the decades. However, I just get comfortable with one way when the next new thing comes along.  

I thought I was doing great when I finally mastered the computer and blogger, then along came FB, then the smartphone.  For the longest time, I was the stupid operator of the smartphone.  Okay, I may not have mastered all of the smartphone features, but I can get my FB, emails and phone calls now.  Progress.

I passed right through the Twitter phase, and I was feeling pretty good when along comes Instagram. It too used hashtags (at least I knew what they were). First, I received an email from Renee Rose asking if I was going to join the A to Z challenge this year.  Okay, sounds good.  I've done it the last couple of years, but alas, then I read further and find out this year it's through Instagram instead of Blogger.  I decide I'm just going to pass - too much to take on right now.

Suddenly, I began getting more emails and messages about how Instagram is the way of the future. Cara Bristol suggested I best get on board. Rayanna Jamison nudged me and tutored me, and now I am the proud owner of an Instagram account.  I am a fledgling and still feeling my way but hopefully by the time the challenge starts on June 1st, I will know enough to post.  We'll see.

It doesn't stop there. When filling out the info required of Instagram, I learned the onceanauthor (Leigh Smith) blog did not qualify as a  website.  I needed a domain. Back to the computer and researching sites.  Finally,  after a couple of failed starts, Google seemed to welcome me and my credit card with open arms and lots of help. Thus, was born.  So if you wander over to my other site, it will have a slightly different look, but it's the same ole' site only linked to the new domain.  I'd show a screenshot of both if I was able to do so.  I've read the instructions on both on the computer and phone, but nothing.  Maybe next time.

The upshot of all this is that I am now on Instagram.  If you are and want to look me up, the account is leigh_smith_writer and I have my own domain of Note that I have the word author after my name.  It's not to remind be but fortunately, or unfortunately, just plain ole' leighsmith wasn't available, that would have been much too easy.

As an aside, the last couple of mornings I've received calls from solicitors from the web domain sites wanting to help.I still have the same Florida telephone number I've had for centuries so I was less than pleasant this morning when I informed yet another caller that when I was ready I would contact them and that it was 6:30 in the f**ucking morning here. I don't imagine they will call again.  Bet you didn't expect that from Sunny Girl. haha.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings

Wednesday, May 18, 2016

A Retrospective

ATTENTION, ATTENTION:  Can someone please explain to me why half of this post is in one font and the other half in another.  I typed it here, didn't cut and paste, and I can't seem to fix it.  Another character flaw, perhaps - stupidity when it comes to blogger.

One day a couple of weeks ago, PK over at New Beginnings had a post titled "I'll always wonder."  She said she had been reading some blogs and realized that the hopes she had for her version of TTWD never materialized and probably never would. I shook my head in agreement.

Ray and I don't fight, we argue, we disagree, but we don't fight.  I remember my folks - they fought, and Ray said his parents did too.  Maybe that's why we don't. When we don't agree, we both play the distance, silent game and one of us eventually give in.  We've been doing it our whole married life, and although I wish it would change, I seriously doubt it will.

Like PK, when I first came out to Ray, I hoped he would make me accountable for things.I explained what I wanted, and he didn't express any problem with spanking.  It seemed so romantic to be taken over a knee when it was needed. Those seam ripper novels of yesteryear made it sound so easy; the men had no reservations, and it all seemed so hot and steamy.  I still think it sounds wonderful, but the truth is, it wouldn't work for me. I guess he knew better right away.  I was on my own when I met Ray, had an important job and people working for me, so stepping into a submissive role was foreign to me.  I wanted it in my head, and even in the bedroom most of the time, but it would never work in real life. I hate being told what to do and being told I'm wrong, is like waving a red flag in front of a bull.  It's a character flaw, and Ray has learned that suggestions work much better than orders. We joke that I'm right 99 and 44/100% of the time.

I posted a story a while back titled New or Not So New and the husband wanted a get out of jail free card in case his wife reneged on her compliance with domestic discipline. I can see where Ray would think that might be necessary too. Sorry to say, on some days, he might be right.

Would I, could I 'lean in' as Mere says. I do on many things, on my terms, on some things, on some days but never for a steady diet. At least I don't think so. We've both compromised and don't have that many issues anyway so I guess, like PK, the questions will never be answered.

Don't get me wrong; sometimes I'm jealous as all get out over some of you but other days I know I'm right where I should be, but I will always wonder.

See you later for more Aimless Rambling.

Monday, May 16, 2016

...but or butt

Hello, it's Monday again and I think someone stole the last seven days.  The days were busy as all get out what with flying to Australia and all.  Having company starting Wednesday, so I'll be busy again this week and then I can't believe it, but the following weekend is Memorial Day, isn't it?  Well, at least here in the US.  Before I lived in perpetual sunshine I used to look forward to that weekend as the official start of summer. Now not so much.

Here is this week's story and while some of you think it may be autobiographical, it's a case of will wishing it make it so?  I have spent many a week trying to come up with a story for Monday, so at least some of it is true.  

It’s Friday, and I have to come up with a story for Monday.  Why do I do this to myself, week after week? 

My editor is used to me and is always threatening bodily harm because I’m always last minute.  The term “hold the presses” does not apply anymore.  Nowadays, the article has to be ready to roll by Sunday at the absolute latest.  My procrastination gives gray hairs to not only my editor, but the others who have to get the article ready for publication and hate doing it last minute.  It makes for overtime, errors and stress that should be saved for late-breaking news, not some puff piece of mine.  I don’t mean to do it, but life happens.

Take today for example.  I woke early and after my morning walk, I planned to sit myself down and start to write.  But first, I had to retrieve something from the shoe repair place.  Hubby did me a favor yesterday and picked up a purse that needed a strap reinforced.  Through no fault of his own, he came home with the wrong purse.  So, now with no ticket, as it had been turned in, I had to retrieve the right purse.  Well, the place didn’t open right away so rather than coming back home, I had time to kill and with a clothing store conveniently a couple of doors down, I made good use of the time.  After all, I needed a bathing suit for an upcoming trip.  By the time, I finished trying on and buying a suit; it was after ten and the shoe repair shop was open.  Luckily, it was an easy switch – my purse was hanging on a peg in plain sight. 

Okay, now home and showing hubby the suit I had purchased, I sat down at the keyboard. A noise alerted me to the fact that my stomach was crying out for food.  I hadn’t had breakfast.  So after breakfast and cleaning up after myself, I once again sat down at the keyboard.

It was then I remembered I wanted to look for something online.  One site, then two and on the third success.  I was able to order the item for which I was searching.  But then, while there, I remembered something else I wanted.  Fifteen minutes later and another success.  Then I heard the beep on my phone alerting me to a message.  It was one of my Scrabble buddies, and this would only take a minute.

Yikes.  I looked at the clock, and it was 1:00 where did the time go?  Still no story. Once again, the keyboard called.  There must be an eject button in the chair I use because seconds later I was up and out of the chair in search of my water color pad.  Finding what I was looking for, I started in on the other project.

I was about to go further when my phone pinged reminding me my article was due.  Okay, Okay, I said to myself and settled back into the desk chair.  There I sat, strumming my fingers while I waited for the lightbulb to go on and my fingers to start hitting the keys.  Nothing. 

Saved by the bell, the doorbell that is.  It was the UPS man delivering a package for my next door neighbor. “Terrific,” I thought.  “Maybe I’ll write a story about being a good neighbor.”

At last, I looked down, and there were words on the blank page.  I had finally started a story.  Now I was in the swing I could finish the article in a flash.  Okay, maybe not a flash, but usually getting started was the hard part.

In the midst of the fifth paragraph, the doorbell rang.  Deciding to ignore it, I kept on writing.  Unfortunately, the door bell kept on ringing.  I got up to answer, and wouldn’t you know, it was my neighbor to collect her package.  “Sorry to bother you but I knew you were home, your car’s in the driveway, and I’ve been waiting for this package.”

Being a good neighbor, I invited her in.  We chatted away and the next thing I knew it was 3:30 and I had a ways to go before finishing the story.  I tell her I’m on a deadline, and she leaves. 

I sit down at the desk again and the phone rings.  I see the caller’s name, and I know I don’t want to take the call.  I let it go to voicemail and when the message light blinked, coward that I am, I looked at the message.

“We don’t have your story again.  You better have it here in thirty minutes, or else. Consider yourself warned.”

He had warned me, time and time again, but.  Yeah, that’s it, the but’s get me every time and the or else was going to involve my butt.  What I haven’t revealed up to now is that my husband is the editor who is awaiting my story each and every week.  He takes a lot of slack because of my procrastination and told me last week that the next time I didn’t have my story in on time, he was going to take it out on my butt.

Mind you; he’s threatened to spank me our whole married life. He’s never followed through.  Of course, he spanks me as foreplay, but as to a real discipline spanking, hasn’t happened yet. 

Smiling, with no thought to his threat, I sit down again at the desk.  My mind begins to wander only not about the story. I’m thinking about what it would be like if he seriously spanked me.  Would it turn me on as much as our play?  I’ve done research on the buttocks being a serious erogenous zone, and it’s true.  I know for a fact, it’s true in my case.  A playful swat, words in a story, a scene in the movies or tv that references a spanking and I’m ‘turned on’ and ready for a romp.  But a serious spanking, I don’t know. “If I don’t want to find out, I better get this story done,” the little voice in my head told me.

Five hundred words in and I hear the garage door open.  I look at the clock, and I am flabberghasted that almost an hour has passed since his last phone call. His footsteps sound as he walks across the tiled kitchen.  I hear the refrigerator open and then a drawer opens. His footsteps resume as he heads toward the office where I’m working.

“Oh, hi hon.  Home early?” I try for a light-hearted tone.

“No, actually I’m a little later than usual because I was waiting for a story that was supposed to be earlier today.”

It’s then I see that he not only has a bottle of beer in his hand but the wooden spatula. He knows I see it as I gulp but keep up a brave front. 

“It’s time to pay the piper,” he says.

“What do you mean?” I say all innocently.

“You know damn well what I mean.  No more fooling around.  I’m sick of this crap, and it stops today.  If it doesn’t, we will have this discussion every week until it does.” I can tell by his tone of voice; he’s not fooling.  It is the tone reserved for errant children and employees –not one to be ignored. 

He sits down in the easy chair.  “I want your bare bottom over my knee in thirty seconds.  Every second over that number and you get another swat.  Do you understand?”

I hem and haw and look at him with my best puppy dog look.  It’s not working; he’s looking at his watch and counting the seconds.

‘Oh my God. It finally dawns on me this is going to happen.’  It’s sexy as hell, and I feel the wetness in my panties as I pull them down along with my jeans. I manage to get myself over to the chair where he takes my arm and pulls me across his lap.  My head is resting on the cushioned arm, as he raises his leg so that my bottom is high with my feet dangling.  His other leg pins my legs. He grabs me around the waist and pulls me in tight to his body.

"Are you comfortable?"

I giggle.  Not the best response considering my position. 

There are no further words, just the first smack of that wooden spatula.  I wince – until now he had always only used his hand in our ‘play’ spankings.  This is a real spanking, no warm up, no rubbing, no nothing but the smack of the wood against my bare butt.  It hurts sooo bad. Four spanks and I’m writhing around like a fish on a hook desperately trying to get free.  Three more spanks, one right after another and he stops. 

He’s lecturing me, but I’m too busy catching my breath and thinking about my bottom that feels as if I sat on a hot frying pan, so I don't hear a word he's saying.  Before I know it, the spatula is again raining down staccato swats on my poor bottom – smack after smack, each one harder than the last.  I hear a sound and realize it’s me begging him to stop.  He mustn't hear me because he is still wielding the spatula.

I’m wailing and realize the spatula is no longer attacking my fanny.

“Have you had enough?”

I shake my head.  “Am I going to have to remind you again about getting your story in on time.”

I shake my head again.

“Words, I want words.”

“No Sir.”

“Good, I like that word by the way.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I let out a breath of relief realizing I have survived my first punishment spanking.  I was wrong.  He wasn’t finished.

The wooden spatula was once again attacking my body, not only my bottom which had turned numb but my thighs as well.  The cadence was swift and firm.  It was then I heard a crack and saw something go flying across the room.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” I heard him say in a voice that seemed far away.

I realized he was rubbing my back and felt him remove his leg from across mine. 

“You can get up now.” 

I tried, but my legs were like rubber, and he needed to help me get my bearings.  Taking me in his arms, he ruffled my hair and kissed my tear-stained cheeks. I couldn't believe I cuddled into him after what he had done to my bottom.

After a few more moments, I heard him say. “I guess I’m going to have to get a sturdier wooden spatula.  I think I heard that bamboo is the best.”  He grinned.  “Now, be a good girl and finish the damn story.”

“Yes, sir.”

I moved the keyboard to the kitchen counter where I could finish the story while standing instead of sitting.  There was no way my poor, blazing bottom could take sitting on that desk chair. 

For the record,  now I know that a punishment spanking is nothing like our fun spankings, and I’ll be getting my story in on time for now on.  At least that’s the current plan.

See you later for more Aimless Rambling.

Monday, May 9, 2016

...and then some

The weeks go by so darn fast, I can hardly keep up.  Hope everyone had a wonderful week and if you're a mother, or grandmother, or whatever, it was a great day for you to celebrate.  I want to thank all of you that stopped by to wish me a happy day.  It was nice - received an early morning call from our daughter, then a text from grandson number 1 and another call from grandson number 2 after his soccer game.  Very nice.  

We had another wonderful thunderstorm here on Saturday  I know some of you have them often but they're rare occurrences here so it is always exciting -no hail though, thank goodness.

Here's this week's story.

Will Pennington moved into a house his brother had purchased for him.  It was a quiet neighborhood and just what he wanted and needed.  He had spent the last two years in Afghanistan and peace, and quiet were two of the things he needed to get his head back into the real world.  He was tired of seeing bombed-out homes and villages, starving children and animals.  He thanked God everyday for being born in the good ole USA. After twenty years in the military, he was done.

He knew we would miss the camaraderie of his fellow soldiers and had to find something to do to occupy his time.  He thought about police work or an EMT, but there again he would be seeing more of what he was desperately trying to forget.   So when he saw the ad for a team leader for a local youth program, he knew he had to apply.

He received his degree in behavioral sciences, and although he hadn’t gone on for his Masters, he thought that his military background would make him a good candidate for the position.  At his first interview, he learned the program was for teenage boys that had been adjudicated and mandated to attend the program in lieu of time in juvenile detention.  The boys lived in a group home, attended classes, did chores and worked toward redeeming themselves and making restitution for their crimes. When they completed the program, if they were deemed rehabilitated, their juvenile records would be expunged. 

There were three team leaders, each worked an eight hour rotating shift.  Will thought the job would be perfect.  He would have a chance to make a difference, at least he hoped he would.  After the last stints in the military, he didn’t see the sacrifices he and others made, changed anything.  Everything was the same as it was at the beginning of his last tour. It was disheartening and what made him decide to chuck it all rather than re-enlist for another stint. 

He came home after the first day on the job, ready to put his feet up and enjoy the peace and quiet of his new home.  Seven boys were a handful, even for him.  He had to break up three fights and referee a dodgeball game that got out of hand.  He got into some comfortable clothes, poured himself a cold beer and went out to sit on his back deck.

He wasn’t in the chair ten minutes when he noticed smoke coming from the house next door.  It was much too warm to have a fire so he decided he better check.  He set down his beer and walked toward the fence to see if he could see anything.  The smoke was coming from the shed, and when he didn’t see anyone around, he hopped the fence and went to check things out.  As he neared the shed, he smelled a very familiar scent.  No doubt in his mind it was marijuana. He was ready to retreat to his own haven when he heard some giggling.  Giggling like young girls, too young to be smoking, and definitely too young to be smoking pot.  He determined the best thing he could do would be to knock on the door and perhaps that would quell their smoking session. 

He rapped on the door, and the giggling stopped, but was replaced by shushing sounds and scrambling and shuffling.  The door opened a crack, and a girl about twelve stuck her head out.

“Who are you and what do you want?” She asked with an attitude that surprised him.

“I’m the next door neighbor, and I saw smoke.  Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. We don’t need any help.”

She tried to shut the door, but Will had managed to stick in his foot  making it impossible.

“Look, I know what you’re doing in here.”

Suddenly, her attitude changed.  “Are you going to tell on us?”

“I’m not, but you are.  You are much too young to smoke and smoking pot is against the law for anything but medicinal purposes.  If you get busted, you could end up with a juvenile record.  I work with kids who have been caught, and it’s not something you want, believe me. Give me what’s left.  I’ll give you all a chance to come clean with your folks before I hand over the ‘goods’.

He heard one of the group speak up.  “Mister, we don’t know who you are, and we’re not giving up our stash.”

“Suit yourself,  but know that  I’m calling the fire department.”   He reached for his cell phone when he realized he’d left it in the house.  He turned toward home when a woman came walking toward him.

“What’s going on here?  Who are you?”  She pushed the door of the shed open and saw her twin daughters and two of their friends sitting there looking very sheepish.

“I’m Will Pennington, I’m the next door neighbor and was sitting on my deck when I saw smoke coming from the shed.  I came to investigate.”

“Well, I don’t see any flames, so I assume it was a false alarm,” she said.

“I’ll let the girls explain,” he told her.

“Thank you for being a good neighbor.  I’m Sandy Mercer and this one,” she said putting her hand on the head of the girl that had answered the door, “and that one over there is also mine.  They’re twins, and they are a handful. What one doesn’t think of, the other one does.”

 “Kids are always testing the boundaries.  Parenting is a tough job.”

“It’s even tougher when you’re doing it alone.”

“You’re a single mom.”

“Yes, my husband died two years ago, and it’s been us three since then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said.

“I think I’ll get back to my place.  I think the girls have something to talk to you about.  It was nice meeting you and if there is every anything I can do, knock on the door.”

“Thank you, Will.”  She watched him go and couldn’t help but notice his long muscled legs and tight butt.  ‘Get a grip on yourself.  I know it’s been a long time, but you don’t know a thing about him.’

When Will disappeared behind the bushes, Sandy turned her attention to the girls.

“So girls, what do you have to talk to me about?”  Both of them were stammering, and the other girls started to scatter.  “Hold on,” she told them.  “I want to know why our neighbor saw smoke.?”  Suddenly, all the girls started talking at once, each blaming the other.  When she finally heard the whole story, she told her girls to go to their bedroom and wait for her.  She then walked the other girls to their respective houses and spoke with each of the parents explaining the situation.

The girls had found the pot left over from when their father was going through chemo. She buried it in the freezer and forgotten about it. The girls found it when they were routing around for ice cream. She felt guilty, but the girls still needed to be punished.  After she had lectured them, she told them they were grounded and took away their tablets  for two weeks.

Later that evening, she walked next door to thank Will Pennington.  She took a plate of cookies, and when she handed them to him, he asked if they were safe.

“What do you mean?”  He said it was a bad joke and only meant if she had laced them with the confiscated marijuana.  She was embarrassed and explained about the pot. 

“You can’t be too careful.  I work with a bunch of  teens who are in the system for just that kind of thing.”

“I know, and I feel so guilty.  I’ve lectured and grounded the girls and took away their tablets for two weeks.  If there dad was around, I’m sure he would have paddled them, but I don’t have the heart for that.  Besides, they’re getting to old to spank.”

“You’re never to old to be spanked, as far as I’m concerned.  I know what all the books say, but it leaves an impression like nothing else.  Trust me, I know.”

“I know, my folks spanked us too. I always said I wouldn’t spank my children, but my husband said that was nonsense. He was the disciplinarian in the family and taking over that role had been one of the most difficult things.  I felt bad punishing them for smoking the pot because if I had been a better parent, they wouldn’t have found it.  Maybe I need a spanking.”

“Maybe so,’ he said with a smile.  His pants suddenly felt a little tighter with the thought of spanking her cute little bottom.  In those cut off jean shorts, there wasn’t much left to imaging just how pert that bottom was. 

Sandy turned all red and said she had better be heading back home.

“Sandy, if you want, bring the girls over for a barbecue on Saturday, and I’ll talk to them about the perils of drug use.”

“I think I’d like that.  Thank you again, Will and if I can contribute anything to the barbecue, let me know.”

“You can bring dessert.  No marijuana laced goodies, though,  I get drug tested.”

“Are you ever going to let me live that down?” She could hear his laugh as she walked to her house.


The girls didn’t want to go on Satuday but she told them it was too bad, they didn’t have a choice.  She knew they were embarrassed and felt it would be good for them to face the consequences of their action.  Sandy had a feeling that Will wouldn’t be hard on them, just use it as a teachable moment.  She was right.  After the initial awkwardness, everyone had a good time.  They all helped with the clean-up and played monopoly until the girls started yawning.

“That was fun Mr. Will.  I’m sorry I gave you a hard time the other day.” He smiled and ruffled her hair.  She grabbed him about the knees and hugged him.  Her sister joined her.

“That was fun Will, thank you. I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed an evening so much,” Sandy told him.

“We can do it again anytime.  I work every other weekend but other than that I’m free.”

She laughed.  “Free huh?”

“and cheap too.”  he added.


After they had been together several times, Will suggested that perhaps he could have a date with Sandy alone.  Sandy had dated a couple of times since Ben died, but it had been disasterous, and she quit accepting dates.  With Will, it was different.  She already knew and felt comfortable with him, but this time, she wouldn’t have the kids to fall back on.

He took her to a restaurant just at the edge of town and after dinner, they went to the bar to listen to the jazz trio.  It was late when they arrived home.  The girls were staying at their friends overnight, and she invited him in.   

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She excused herself, and when she came back out, she was wearing a long shirt that just covered her private parts.  She looked at him and crooked her index finger indicating she wanted him to come to her.  He followed her to the bedroom where she began removing his clothes.

“I assume you’re okay with this?” she asked.

“It’s a helluva time to ask now, isn’t it.”  He grinned.  “Usually, it’s the man who starts things rolling, but hell I’m game.’

“Good. I’m more than ready.  I’m not going to get all mushy and stuff.  If you want a friends with benefits thing, it’s fine with me.  I’m horny as hell, and it’s your fault.  I get all squishy thinking about you.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything, just kiss me, and the rest will take care of itself.” 

At that moment, Will said a silent thank you to his brother for finding a house next door to this woman.  He liked her, liked her children.  He could see himself with her way down the road.

Sandy was right, the rest did take care of itself.  They fit together perfectly.  After they had both climaxed and lay back in the bed, enjoying the after loving, she turned to him.
“Ready to go again?”  He laughed and said he needed a bit of time, he wasn’t twenty anymore.  She laughed.

“I know what you could do in the meantime,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“You could take me over your knee and spank me.  I’ve been thinking about that since the day you said you’re never to old to be spanked.  Since Ben’s been gone, I’ve read a lot of romance novels, and it always excites me when the hero takes the heroine over his knee.”

He grinned and couldn’t believe his good fortune.  “What makes you think I’m a hero.”

“I Googled you, and besides you rescued my children, that makes you a hero in my book.”

He sat up, leaned over and kissed her before pulling her across his extended thighs. He caressed those pert little globes that he’d admired from the first.  He couldn’t believe his luck.  His hands caressed those beautiful cheeks, rubbing each cheek lovingly. Sandy was enjoying the caresses but kept raising her bottom and getting impatient.  Finally, she asked him if he was ever going to spank her.  He laughed.

“Girl, you asked for it.” The words hadn’t even finished leaving his mouth before his hand came down hard on her bare bottom.


“That hurt sooo good,” she told him.

“More?” he asked.

“and then some,” she replied.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.

Monday, May 2, 2016

New or Not So New - that is the question?

Happy Monday, Happy May

I never did get back here last week.  I was busy as the dickens, doing I have absolutely no idea what, but I ran all week and the next thing I knew it was over.  It's good to be back home and it couldn't have come at a better time.  The weather this past week and weekend in Denver took a turn for the worse and I would have been bitchin' and complaining.

Ray and I did manage to reconnect this past week, the doggin' bat actually came out and was dusted off.  It didn't take too long for me to squirm around and then it was over way too soon.  How does that happen?
NewAnyway, maybe it won't be so long this next time.  I hope not.   I found this on my document list the other day.  There really wasn't a title, just the first line.  I don't remember it so I'm not sure if I previously posted it or not.  But guess what, I'm either posting or reposting.  Hope you enjoy or enjoy anew.

Marion and Dale started practicing TTWD after they’d been married for thirty-five years.  Like many other couples, it started with Marion’s online research. Their marriage needed something, a spark, a jolt- something.  Once they became empty nesters, it became stagnant.  The practice of each going off with different kids became each going off doing their own thing.  They lived together more like brother and sister, or roommates than marriage partners.  Marion read the same story over and over again.

She was determined to do something about it.  One night she sat down with Dale and laid her cards on the table.

“Dale, I don’t know about you, and that is part of the problem.  But I’m sick of living like this.  We are like two ships that pass in the night.  Do you want to continue this way or do something about it?”

“What do you want to change?”

“Us. Our lifestyle, something.  I’m bored, and boredom often leads to things you don’t want just to make a change, stir things up.  So before I get to that stage and go off and fix my boredom without you, I’d like to fix it with you.”

“I want you to fix it with me too.  I know we don’t have the same passion we used to have, but hell Marion, we’ve been together for more than half our lives.  There isn’t much about each other we don’t know.  How are we going to make things new?”

“I think we have to start with sex.  After all, our sex life is practically non-existent. It started going downhill when we had children, and the downward slide has not picked up.  Even when we do have sex, it’s the same ole, same ole.  Boring!!!  We practically mark a date on the calendar, for God’s sake.”

“All well and good, but there were many times, I suggested something other than the norm, and you looked at me like I was a pervert.  After a while the boring, as you called it, was me just giving you what you wanted.”

“Well, I don’t want that any more.  I want different.”

“So if I decided to slam you down and take you from behind, you’d be agreeable?”

“Yes, and if I wasn’t, then make me change my mind.  Don’t just give up and walk away.”

“Can I get this in writing so when I do this, and you decide I'm just a prick, I have proof when the cops come to arrest me?”

Marion laughed, but she knew, deep down, he wasn’t far off the mark.  She could be a bitch, could be hell, she was a bitch.  It was one of the things she hated about herself, and if she was going to change, she needed help.

“Okay, you put down the words you think will keep you out of jail and I’ll sign it.” She couldn’t keep the smile off her face.


Days went by, and their routines went on as usual.  Marion was not looking forward to their usual night for sex.  As it approached, she became more and more agitated that Dale hadn’t done or said anything about their talk.  She became bitchier and bitchier as the day progressed and by bedtime, she was beyond furious.  “If he thinks I’m just going to continue to go along with the past program, he’s out of his ever loving mind.’  When she came out of the bathroom, Dale could see the steaming rolling off her in waves.  He was sitting on the bed, hands behind his head, just waiting for the storm to explode.

Ordinarily, he would have pretended not to notice, rolled over and just went to sleep. Marion was right, their sex was boring, and it wasn’t something he much cared about any more.  He too was anxious to step it up.  He couldn’t ever see himself cheating on her, but he did spend more time in the shower while thinking about what it could be like.  He had written up the Get Out of Jail note earlier in the week but decided to save it for their usual sex night.  He wanted it to be fresh in her mind that she agreed to what he had planned. So, after she went into the bathroom, he got out the paper and placed it on her pillow, a pen next to it. Now he just waited.

She didn’t disappoint.  She started her verbal barrage, and he merely pointed to her pillow.  She saw the paper and continued to spew her words until she picked it up and read what he had written.

  I, Marion Keller Wright, hereby give Dale Desmond Wright, the right to step up our sex life in any way he sees fit. I trust that he will not take me beyond my limits and will never cause me harm.

There was a place for the date and her signature.  While she was reading, he picked up the pen and handed it to her.  Blissful silence ensued as she read the note.  She took the pen and affixed her signature.  He calmly took the paper, folded it and put it in his nightstand drawer.  While he was doing this, she got into bed.

“Get out of bed and remove that nightgown.  From now on, you sleep as you came into this world.  Naked.”  Marion looked at him as if he was crazy, but his look told her he wasn’t kidding. 

“Now!!!” He said in a tone she hadn’t heard since the kids left.

She slid the nightgown over her head and slipped back into bed. 

“Are you comfortable?” He asked.  She nodded at him .  “Well, that’s about to change.”

He pulled her across his lap and whacked her bottom. The sound reverberated around the room and was punctuated by her loud “Ouch, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
His hand answered with another stinging swat to her backside. He was enjoying this. Marion wanted a change, well this is the new change.  He spanked her until her bottom was the loveliest shade of deep rose.  Vocally, she might be complaining, but he could see that she was as turned on as him.

When he finished the spanking, he gave her a few moments to compose herself before turning her over and burying his head into her sweet core.

Marion couldn’t believe what he was doing, but as her orgasm began to build and intensify her, her body screamed out for release.  Her orgasm rolled over her in waves. When at last of her orgasm subsided, he pulled her up and told her he wanted her on her tummy, feet on the floor.

She didn’t much care at this point, she was putt in his hands, and he was sculpting a new Marion.  He put his hands on her tummy, raising her bottom and adjusting her as he desired. Seconds later he was plunging his engorged member into her womanhood, using his hands to finger her to another mind-blowing orgasm.  Before he climaxed, he pulled out and spread is seed all over her still pinked bottom. 

They were both smiling.  And so began a new life for Marion and Dale Wright.