A Moustache got me Spanked

Memories can make you happy, sad, soppy, whatever, we all have them though. I get told-off if I dive into them too often or stay with them too long when we're in company; P says it's impolite and stuff that might interest us isn't necessarily interesting to others. I suppose he's right but I still do it and I did it a bit the other day, but only with my husband, and I'm going to do it a bit now, with you. It got me spanked so bear with me.

You see I was digging through some old photos I'd found in the garage, I'd been looking for something completely different when I came across them. I wondered if they could be digitalised, I'm no good at that but I showed them to P and he said they could, either by scanning or photographing, it would just take a bit of time. I told him I wanted it doing, please, so that they were preserved forever. He said certainly but instead of him doing it he'd show me how to do it and store them on line. So that's the background but here's what happened then, and the part that got me spanked ...

I found one particular picture of me and P on the back of a Volvo truck in Africa yonks ago, it brought back memories so distinct I burst out laughing, it also showed my husband when he used to sport a moustache which I teased him about. I reminded him of sweaty nights and having sex under a mosquito net and him getting bitten quite a lot and from then on dousing himself with repellent each evening. It didn't stop the bites but it reduced them and the bites didn't stop the sex, or the spankings which took place, usually early evening with a fast running shower providing sound cover. I reminded my husband of all this, I'm sure it came back to him as if it were yesterday, as it did me, and then I teased him more about his dreadful moustache. He took umbrage, or pretended to, and told me to stop ribbing him or he'd spank me. So I told him he'd looked a proper twat those days, I'd always thought it (I hadn''t really), and I'd hated the moustache tickling me. He said I'd never seemed to complain when it had tickled between my legs.

I overdid the ribbing of course, I know you can see what's coming, so could I, and P told me 'Right that's enough, you're coming upstairs with me for a spanking'.

Not the best of pics but it's that awful moustache I wanted to show a little of without revealing identities.

My husband took me firmly by the arm and hustled me upstairs, I turned my face away so he couldn't see the excited grin as I objected and told him he couldn't and he wouldn't dare and our neighbours were in etc, all of which he ignored. He pulled my t-shirt off and I was over his knee sans jeans in a trice, with him sitting askew on the edge of the bed, getting my backside spanked very hard and my husband telling me he remembered those nights and plenty of other times we'd had fun and he'd never realised I'd thought he was a twat all that time, he was laying it on, in more ways than one he's very good at that. He stopped for a pause and asked me if I wanted to apologise. I didn't. So he took my knickers down to my knees and I gasped and then his right leg clamped across my thighs and he spanked me harder and I wriggled and squealed and kept pushing my bum out for more, I was horny as hell and wanted him to know it. He stopped suddenly, my bottom was stinging outrageously, he told me he'd worked up a bit of a sweat and he could see I had too as there were beads glistening on the small of my back, a bit like on that holiday but not as much, then he bent down and licked me, from just above my bum to between my shoulders and back again, he told me I tasted nice, I thought he might try tasting between my legs, he'd have found plenty of moisture there of a different kind.    

He spanked me a bit more but it was distinctly sexual now, still stingy but lighter, and I responded accordingly thrusting my backside up provocatively to meet the spanks. Eventually it stopped and I was pushed off his lap onto the bed with my legs dangling off the edge expecting to hear his zipper any second. That didn't happen; instead I felt his face nuzzling between my spanked cheeks and his tongue licking and tickling deep into my cleft around my pucker and down to my slit where he stopped, the bastard, and I pushed up and back as far as I could and he slapped my right cheek sharply and said 'Bet you wouldn't mind if I still had that twattish moustache now would you?' I said 'No, P, and please don't stop what you're doing, please...' slut that I am I was all but begging for it. Then my husband's hands were on my hips and he lifted me higher and with his thumbs prised my cheeks further apart so that I was fully exposed for him and then his tongue was at my slit opening my swollen lips and lapping my wetness. I cried out, I think it was a wail actually and I think it would have scared anyone who heard it and then his tongue found my clit and it was hard and he circled and pressed and sucked it and I suddenly had the biggest orgasm I've had for ages and all I wanted was for him to keep going and I'm sure he couldn't breathe and it didn't matter because I was for a few delirious moments in a different place.

My husband stayed and licked me softly as I came down, he told me I was very wet and I'd squirted and drenched him. I thought he was going to fuck me and if he had I would have come again I'm certain, but he didn't he just smacked my bum and told me to pull my knickers up and make myself respectable. Later in the day I found a moment to unzip him while he was sitting answering emails, it didn't take a moment for him to lose interest in his emails, I heard the flap shut on his iPad and a few moments after that I was licking sticky lips after emptying him. God, sometimes I think I'm every holic there could be rolled into one, spankaholic, sexaholic, suckaholic, squirtaholic...you get the idea. I think I need to see an ologist :)

I'm going to buy one of those kid's false plastic moustaches next time I see one, just for a laugh.

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx