Wille Trump and the Telescope

Willie Trump lived with Penelope Jane, his wife of thirty years. They resided in leafy suburbia in one of the large detached houses in the north of town. Being a retired army officer, Willie appreciated precision, order, and discipline - which is why he married Penelope Jane. An affluent, middle-class housewife, she liked nothing better than to keep the house immaculate, and she had an unbreakable routine of polishing, dusting and hoovering.

Life was pleasantly uneventful until one fine day in late Spring when the new neighbours moved into the house next door. The Johnsons seemed a fairly innocuous pair - Jeffrey was a university lecturer and Claire worked part time at the local junior school. But it wasn't long before Willie became acquainted a little more intimately with the couple. It happened quite by accident.

He was upstairs in his den - the spacious airy attic at the top of the house. It had large windows set in to each of the four walls, and was a perfect place in which he could indulge his hobby of amateur astronomy. Willie had invested in a rather splendid telescope. He never intended to spy on the Johnsons, but when his eye caught sight of a big pale rounded object, he knew immediately that it wasn't the moon. No. It was Mrs Johnson's bare bottom.

"Good Lord!" Willie couldn't believe his eyes. He had another look.

"Oh I say - quite magnificent. What an arse!"

And then, much to Willie's surprise, Jeffrey came into view, carrying something that looked suspiciously like a cricket bat.

"Oh yes? What's going on here?" wondered Willie. It certainly wasn't a game of cricket.

He didn't have long to wait, and watched entranced as Jeffrey raised the bat and whacked it down on Claire's bare bottom. Immediately, a big blotchy pink splat appeared across the expanse of those glorious buttocks. They flattened under the impact, and then wobbled delightfully back into shape.

"Cor," breathed Willie. "What a treat!"

He increased the magnification of his telescope so that he could see every last detail of that magnificent bare bottom. Mesmerised, he watched as the bat rose and fell, landing on the well-rounded target, which was by now taking on a most becoming shade of red. Oh boy - this was exciting stuff! Willie felt his old man rise stiffly to attention - a rare feat these days - so he decided to make the most of it. He hurtled down the attic stairs and burst in to the bedroom.

"Trump? Is that you?" mumbled Penelope Jane.

"Oh yes! And I have a BIG surprise for you my dear," said Willie proudly as he switched on the bedside lamp. "Aaaaaaaargh!" he exclaimed in horror, for his wife had turned into some sort of mutant troll woman. Her hair was covered in tight pink curlers, and her face was a ghastly fluorescent green. "Good God! That's horrible."

Penelope Jane tried to explain that she was wearing a rejuvenating facial mask, and she had to leave it on for an hour before rinsing. But the mask had set as tightly as concrete, and she had great difficulty speaking. So all Willie heard was a series of muffled grunts. Alas, his big moment came and went - his old man shrivelled in fright to the size of a shrunken walnut. Willie stomped off to the kitchen to make himself a cup of cocoa, then changed his mind and consoled himself with a rather large snifter of brandy instead.

"What a beastly shame," he said, chastising his flaccid old man. "It could have been a night to remember, old boy." But then he remembered the tight pink curlers and the green face and decided he had had a narrow escape - which called for a second snifter.

Of course, the decent thing would have been not to use the telescope for the purposes of spying on the antics of his neighbours. But I'm afraid Willie Trump was hooked. Over time, his fascination with spanking veered towards the obsessive. He spent more and more time up in the attic, snooping on Mrs Johnson's bottom. And then he would watch the rumpy-pumpy which frequently ensued after the spanking. His spectacles steamed up so frequently he was forever polishing them!

Penelope Jane became deeply suspicious, and when her husband had an evening out with his ex army chums, she had the notion to go up into Willie's den in the attic. And there she discovered the telescope. Was it pointing towards the moon and the stars? No it was not. It was pointing into next door's bedroom.

"Hmmmn," thought Penelope Jane. She peeked through the telescope just as Mrs Johnson walked into the bedroom. "Oh yes - has my Willie been looking at Uranus?" she pondered.

"I bet he has. The dirty old goat!"

Later that evening, Penelope Jane began to understand how Willie had been spending his time. He was a voyeur, a voyeur of lewd behaviour, bare bottom spankings, and outrageous sex! "How utterly disgusting," said Penelope Jane. She went downstairs to make a cup of tea, returned to the attic and spent the next hour watching her neighbour get spanked, tawsed, strapped, caned and rogered so ardently that she could clearly hear Claire's orgasmic screams resounding through the triple glazed 20-year-guaranteed windows.

Willie Trump enjoyed a convivial evening with his friends and returned home shortly after eleven.

"Is that you, Trump?" called Penelope Jane from the sitting room.

"Yes, my dear."

"Did you have a good evening?"

"Oh yes indeed," said Willie as he strode into the sitting room. "The old fellows were very jolly. I had a splendid time.
 I - Good Lord!!" Willie's eyes widened in shock. Here was Penelope Jane, welcoming him home. She was wearing her best shoes, and a pair of silk stockings, along with some sort of wicked-looking corset contraption that she last wore 30 years earlier (when she was 30 pounds lighter). Her hair
had been expertly coiffed, and she was wearing lipstick.

"I say, old girl. What's got into you?!"

Penelope Jane smiled thinly. "Do come in, Willie. I have a surprise for you."

Willie stepped into the sitting room, and then Penelope Jane, her hands on her hips and her feet apart, began chastising him in a tone which she had never used before.

"You despicable little man ... you perverted swine ... you dirty voyeur. I'll give you amateur astronomy! I'll give you telescopes!"

"Oh my," gulped Willie. "It looks like my little secret is out. 

Let me explain -"

"Too late for explanations," said Penelope Jane. "Trousers down, and bend over the back of the sofa. I'm going to deal with you properly, Trump."

"Ooo er .. I can't ... I mean -I couldn't possibly do that! It's quite outrageous," protested Willie.

"You will do as I say or I will go public with your proclivities in the parish magazine. It will make very interesting reading indeed."

"Oh dear, oh dear," muttered Willie. He wasn't quite sure why, but he let his trousers slide to the floor and bent over the back of the sofa as instructed.

"Pants down too," ordered Penelope Jane. "We're going to do this properly."

"Heaven forbid," said Willie, fearfully. "Are you having one of your funny turns, dear?"

"I'm going to turn your bottom scarlet," she said, producing one of his thick leather belts. "And then we'll see just how funny that is."

CRACK! Went the belt as it splatted on Willie's bare bottom.

"Aaaargh!" he yelled. "Aaaaargh!"

"Oh, I think I'm getting the hang of this spanking business," said Penelope. Her arm rose and fell repeatedly, and her aim was perfect. "You're starting to colour up nicely, Trump."

Willie squealed as the belt criss-crossed his buttocks. He jumped up and down in pain, managing to kick off his trousers so that he was dancing around in just his socks and shirt. The belt bit hard and fiercely. His backside felt lacerated to ribbons.

"Oh! Stop! Stop! I'll be raw as a hamburger soon!" he pleaded.

"Nonsense, Trump. I have only just started." Penelope continued with the treatment, getting a nice steady rhythm going, punctuated by Willie's wailing and yelps.

Five minutes later and Willie was experiencing a most unusual sensation. His bottom hurt like blazes, but, strangely, the sensation had become almost pleasant. His old man thought so too - it sprang out, hard and thick and elongated, demanding to be noticed.

"My word," blinked Penelope Jane. "Now there's a sight."

"By the blazes!" concurred Willie. "Mrs Trump - I do believe tonight is your lucky night!"

"I do believe you are right, Trump!"

The sofa got a thorough hammering and pounding, and the Trumps began an exciting new phase in their lives.

Flopysbunny (aka Lucy Appleby) kindly sent me the story to share with my readers. Thank you Flopysbunny. 

Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

Ronnie
xx