And don't mean the weather, although that too was
looking up this morning and P returned from the paper shop in a short sleeved
shirt and chirpily declaring summer's here at last. I'd only just come
downstairs but I told him great perhaps we can go to the garden centre and
get those pots then. That unchirped him and he settled down to browse the
newspaper, which was stuffed with post mortem election stuff which has already
played over so many times I'm sick of it.
I sat with a mug of tea and answered a
few emails from last night and acknowledged a few 'ker-chings'. I sell
stuff on eBay and every time a sale goes through a message sends
to my devices with a ker-ching sound, like an old fashioned
manual cash register, it's quite funny, startling too if you're not used to it.
Last night we had a couple of friends for dinner and it ker-chinged quite a lot, to their amusement, the thing they found most odd though was that I didn't get
up each time to check it. They said if it was them, they wouldn't be
able to resist but I told them if they'd been doing it as long as me they
probably would, especially on a Saturday night when no action can be taken
anyway.
After clearing my inbox I sent an email to P
listing a few new items I want to try and buy from a Spanish
manufacturer we use near Alicante, I send them to P because he has a fair
understanding of Spanish and also he puts technical information very
clearly so there's unlikely to be any misunderstanding after he's interpreted my
requirements and made them simple. P reckons our currency will rise a bit more
over the coming weeks since the election outcome so it would be a good time
to get a top-up order in as well as the new stuff, assuming Jose can do it. I cleared up our few breakfast
things and some glasses from last night, left a wash in the machine and went off
for a shower.
Twenty minutes later I was in the bedroom drying my
hair, towel wrapped round me, nothing else, when my husband walked in,
I didn't hear him but turned round when the hairdryer stopped and
there he was. Now many moons ago, it used to be an almost ritual on a Sunday
morning that, circumstances permitting, by which I mean our son or guests, I
used to get spanked, not for any particular reason other than my husband thought
it was good for me. Well he was certainly right there, but oddly since
we've had the house mostly to ourselves it's tailed off, it's weird, maybe
we want when it's hard to do but then perversely lose interest when it
becomes easy.
Anyway this morning was just like the old
Sunday mornings and I loved it when P sat on the bed and pulled me across his
lap. I objected of course, my hair was still part wet, I didn't have any
knickers on, my towel was falling off, all sorts of little excuses which I knew
wouldn't make a scrap of difference to what was about to happen. Then he
told me I needn't worry about the towel falling off because he was going to
take it right off, which he did, and that I needn't worry about being chilly either
because it was a warm morning and in any case I was going to get more than my
share of warmness soon enough. Then my husband started spanking me and you know
how much spanking hurts on a pink bottom more or less straight from the shower,
it hurts a lot and I was so delirious with happiness I
almost forgot to shout and plead for him to stop. I got into a rhythm of
wiggling and begging and complaining after a few minutes, I told him I
hadn't done anything wrong, I told him he couldn't just come into the
bedroom and spank me like this and he just laughed and told me he was. He
spanked me for about ten minutes, alternating hands and holding me steady with
the one that wasn't spanking at the time while his right leg clamped my thighs
like a vice. Then he rolled me onto the bed and told me to cover myself up and
finish doing my hair, he was going to have a shower himself and then we'd go
together to the garden centre.
I pouted as he stopped at the door to look back and
said I looked cute like that. I nearly asked him what it had been for and I
nearly asked him if he wanted some company in the shower but in the end just
stayed quiet and luxuriated in the warm glow from my bottom as
I sat up and finished off.
I was downstairs well before P and started typing
this post but closed the lid on my laptop as I heard him coming down the stairs.
I didn't know whether I was going to get fucked across the dining room
table or any way else for that matter when he came down, or
whether we'd be off to the garden centre as promised, I think I would have
foregone the garden centre. I didn't get the choice as it happens, we went
out, got what we needed, went into town too because I had some stuff
waiting to click-and-collect and then we had a light sandwich
lunch. All the time we were out I was
brushing against my husband and paying over attention to almost every little
word he uttered, I wonder if men notice those sort of things, must ask him one
day.
When we got
home I got the fucking I would have like earlier, in the middle of the
afternoon, with our neighbour conveniently mowing his grass to provide sound
cover:)
Have a good week.
Ronnie
xx
