Courtesy of Portugal's Horticulture

Well its Sunday early evening and I've got time to myself, I'm stuffed (not that way) after over-eating last night and then one of P's roasts with friends at lunchtime, we don't normally do Sunday lunch so it makes a change, wine doesn't suit me at lunchtime but now and again I suppose it's OK. Anyway I was going to tell you about our little recent break and how I got a sound spanking courtesy of Portugal's horticulture, so being a girl of my word.......

First I want to remind you we were visiting a luxury resort (it was) but travelling un-luxury Ryanair, hand baggage only, P's insistence on travelling light, I think it makes him feel younger get-off-and-go or something like that. Anyway we had a brief disagreement about the amount of *essential* stuff a girl needs to take, then after resolving that and me loading half my stuff into his bag, who was going to carry an implement in their bag and what would it be? Eventually P said he'd carry one of the little green garden canes he bought in Ireland and he packed it diagonally across the internal zipper of his travel bag. I was relieved he did because I got stopped by security they spotted a bottle of water I'd unthinkingly popped into my bag, they took it and trashed it. P went straight through, I mean he could have had a sharpened point on the end of that cane and taken someone hostage with it (lol), but what was I going to do with 50 cl of mineral water? And do I look like a terrorist? Never mind, some laws are stupidly applied, I got over it and bought another bottle of water after the security check, great business for the water vendors.

The green cane played an important part in my getting soundly spanked and the manner, which is why I mentioned it. You see the green cane was used on my backside on the very afternoon a certain girl had been grumping about the weather (I posted about it, in fact that certain girl may be seen, rear view only, contemplating her misfortune), well she had more to grump about later because it started raining and her ever patient husband carried out his threat, or should that be promise, to tan her backside back at the resort. He said we'd go back get some lunch and wait for the rain to pass and by the time we got back we were both soaked so I went to dry off and change. P followed me into the bedroom two minutes later, I'd stripped to underwear and was towelling my hair, he still had his shorts on which were wet but he didn't seem bothered, he strode across to his baggage, wrested his cane from his bag, sat on the bed right next to me and pulled me across his lap.

This was all very quick I have to say, it caught me unawares in spite of his earlier warning, it wasn't how should I put it, 'orderly'. Well that's life, I objected but he wasn't having any of it, he started caning me right away and told me to grow up about the weather and not to spoil my own or his break by moaning and groaning. He'd booked it at pretty short notice as a nice little surprise for me and there I was giving him a hard time over something none of us have any control over. He was right of course but I wasn't prepared to concede just yet, instead I struggled and told him to put his fucking cane away I had every right to be a bit upset. I must have looked quite funny struggling over his lap, I still had the towel over my head so my obscenities were muffled a bit. P disapproves of me swearing, I don't actually do it all that much, and he caned harder. Then suddenly it stopped and I couldn't imagine why. Then he rolled me off his lap and showed me his cane, it was broken, he looked mortified, I burst out laughing. The rain got heavier, it was absolutely throwing it down, P told me to stay exactly where I was, then he left the bedroom.

I couldn't hear him doing anything because the rain was so hard now it was drumming on the roof like a herd of wildebeest (which I have heard in case you wondered). When my pragmatic husband returned he held a much longer cane in his hand, it was brown and it was obviously taken from the decoration in the lounge, it was also obvious that he'd cut it down somewhat because the full length was about 6ft but this looked between 3-4ft. He was smiling, I was shocked, I was going to object that he'd destroyed fixtures but I didn't get chance. He told me to turn over, not over his lap, this cane was too long for otk, he said. I hesitated. He barked ''Do it. Now! While the rain's still heavy.''

Oh christ I thought, as he stuffed a duck down pillow under my hips and then stood back. ''Naughty girl, breaking my cane then laughing about it. Thought that was you off the hook when it broke, did you? Well the weather you've been moaning about is going to do me a great favour now and going to mask all the swishing and crying that's about to happen when one ungrateful girl gets her bottom well and truly caned.'' And then he did it, he really swished the damned thing and I felt it cut into my bum and I know I shouted out loud and no one could have heard me. Then I felt it rest and tap across my cheeks before it raised and came crashing down again causing me to yelp out louder and twist aside, hand to my bottom and looking up shocked at my husband. He didn't look as if he'd finished, he hadn't. I made to get up but he stopped me with a firm hand in the middle of my back, which I like, and told me to stay down and take what I deserved and if I didn't he'd velcro my arms and legs and then resume my caning and if the rain had stopped by then everyone would hear me and how would I like that next time I walked into the bar or restaurant. I shuffled back across the pillow and asked him to please not cane me so hard, I was sorry I'd been a brat. Well he gave me another four strokes of that makeshift cane, and they were just as hard or even harder than the first two, and I never cry but I was almost crying now and I couldn't stop wriggling.

Then I felt him get on the bed and then he was holding me and telling me now I knew what to expect if I didn't lighten up, and then I felt his cock pressing hard against me through his wet shorts and I told him again that I was sorry, and then he'd unhooked my bra and was twisting my nipple and I told him my bottom hurt. He just said I deserved it and to let it be lesson and then my hand was on his cock and god I bloody wanted it, I wanted it like I haven't for ages, I mean pure animal, and I turned round and got on top of him tore my pants aside as P pushed his shorts to his thighs and rammed his penis into a dripping well caned girl. I did all the work, I felt like a teenager again and then we came together with P roaring like a lion and spurting so hard I'm sure I felt it deep and hot and molten in my stomach.

Afterwards we lay and cuddled, listening to the rain, and I said we should go buy an umbrella and take a walk along the beach in the rain. Half an hour or so later we made love, slow and lasting and warm and yummy. It wasn't making love earlier, it was something quite different, raw and earthy. There's definitely room for both, in my book anyway.

We skipped lunch. Later that day we had dinner in a restaurant on the beach edge, we know the owner, and I sat a tad uncomfortably and enjoyed clams in wine and garlic and swordfish so fresh I could still taste the Atlantic on it, washed down with local wine. The rain returned as we were leaving so we ran from cover to cover until we got to a bar where they made cocktails and there we sat, outside under the canopy, P drinking beers and me sipping brandy alexanders, laughing and chatting with others in the same boat. So what's wrong with a little bad weather?

Next morning was clear skies not a cloud in sight. I'm not sure which was the best day though:)

Ronnie

xx