Memory

"I was stunned when I opened the bathroom door to find my wife standing before me wearing nothing but pink panties and a black leather harness to which was clipped a large flesh-colored dildo."

You understand the dilemma - one dates, experiments, stumbles across the right one, falls in love, and marries. Life is sweet and filled with joy, time passes and the feeling that the delirious edge has dulled. You love one another, you know you'll never part but...

We experimented with drugs. I had this friend, blah-blah-blah but what I considered a safe supply and a motivated counselor for advice on easing ourselves into better living through chemistry. She even set us up with different dosages and 'cocktails' based on body weight. Rosie and I got high and tried to make love but the experienced ended with what must have been a crying, slobbering confession on my part and for Rose the horror of hearing me talk of experiences from my childhood and adolescence. We fell asleep in one another's arms from sheer exhaustion.

The next morning we awoke and other than a vague unsettled feeling, felt fine, even refreshed. Rosie was a bit distant but when I inquired she suggested we go to work and 'talk about it, sober, when we get home.' I started a blubbery apology but she shushed me in a kindly way and we each got dressed, kissed that goodbye kiss, and drove away.

I found myself in a reverie at work, though and fortunately had no meetings or informal interactions with my co-workers or boss. I thought about what I might have told her - there were any number of confessions I might have shared that would have elicited the distance I sensed that morning, the question was which one?

I grew up in a loving home, both parents present and attentive. My mother was the disciplinarian apparently from her own strict bringing-up - both of her parents were European and very old school. Her father owned a company but ran the household on a strict budget with rules for everything. Break one and corporal punishment ensued - traditional whacks on the palm with a wooden ruler for lesser infractions, spanking with a palm for slightly worse behavior or failure, escalating through a thin wooden paddle to finally a thick leather strap. As my mother was independent and imaginative she experienced all the above from her account.

Our family was smaller, just my sister and me and my father had been raised in an enlightened household so he served as a mitigating influence on my mother. We had fewer rules, fewer responsibilities and enumerated chores and Mom stopped the hierarchy of punishment with hand spanking. But oh, how she laid it on. Bare ass, alternating cheeks, the humiliation as bad as the pain. I was the rebel, got it from her!, but that didn't change anything. There were several epic events, I couldn't count the blows. I wasn't bruised or crippled but bright red stinging that lasted what seemed hours was the norm. I'd settle down and then in time, cross the line again and we'd find ourselves doing our little play. I got better at hiding my misbehavior and the occasions grew fewer and further between.

Finally on a summer vacation, rental house in the country with a swimming pool and fishing pond and boating lake nearby, me graduated from high school, ready to go to college in the fall, I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom when I heard something odd from my parents bedroom down the hall. A rhythmic slapping, soft and insistent. I finished my business in the bathroom and walked down to find my parents' door ajar.

The night light in my parents bedroom offered just enough illumination for me to see a curious sight. She was facing me at the door but bent over, her pajama top open and her beautiful breasts bobbing in time with the slapping noise. I was horrified(?) to see her pajama pants down around her ankles and oddly noticed her painted toenails. Mom held on to the bedpost with one hand and her eyes were closed but the expression on her face one of exquisite pleasure.

The noise was my father behind her, rhythmically thrusting his penis inside her from behind, his thighs slapping against her buttocks. He too was entranced by sexual enjoyment, his big hands on Mom's waist, moving her back and forth against him but it was obvious she was thrusting herself back and forth to enhance her pleasure and his.

I couldn't stop watching! Then two things happened: My mother opened her eyes and immediately saw me but even more horribly, I realized my hand was on my erect cock stroking it. I hadn't realized...

She was so cool - I know I'd have screamed bloody murder and jumped in the air but she patted my Dad's hand gently and disengaged. I remember so well his groan at the loss of pleasure mid-fuck but she turned and kissed him and whispered something in his ear. His eyes were open by now and my own sex quickly tucked away, wilted in horror. He turned to go to their private bath as instructed by my mother.

She turned back to me and made the 'shhhh' sign of finger to lips and motioned for me to come in the room. Her pajamas had magically returned up her legs and the top was buttoned but I remember I could see her dark nipples beneath the filmy fabric. She noticed where my eyes were and I could see a mixture of annoyance and humor on her face which she quickly replaced with her 'furious' face.

I was taller than her but when she grasped my shoulders firmly with her hands I felt like I was two feet tall, not six.

"I'm going to send your father and sister into town in the morning and you are going to be punished for eavesdropping. I could forgive you for peeking but once you saw us you should have turned and left immediately. Do you understand?"

I was almost ready to cry but just mumbled, "Yes, ma'am."

"Go. Back. To. Bed."

I knew that even to acknowledge her directive would be inflammatory so I turned and went back to my room.

It took a while to go to sleep but I did and woke to a light breakfast so Dad and my sister could get away shopping early.

I didn't know what to do but ate quickly and one look from my mother sent me to my room to stay until she bade me join her. I remember the pretty housedress she wore, the flat sandals and the smooth skin of her pretty legs. Her face was all business, though and she instructed me to follow her outside.

There weren't any other houses near ours, it was a country place with birds singing and crickets chirping and the sun shining brightly overhead, a few wispy clouds moving slowly and smoothly against the blue background. I could see for miles in some direction, pastoral scenes with wooded backdrops. A nearby pasture held a few cattle feeding their calves and munching the green grass contentedly.

There was an old outbuilding behind the house that might have covered equipment or held hay or something. Beside the unpainted gray boards on one side was an old saw horse. Mom made me loosen my pants and drop them around my ankles.

"Underpants, too!" she ordered and I bared my backside to the world.

I sniffled in anticipation. The idea that I was too old at eighteen never occurred to me. The look on my Mom's face was undeniable. I was her son, I'd misbehaved, and a punishment was in order.

It was my first spanking with a wooden plank. A sturdy one, smooth and God knows where she got it from. I bent over and it seemed forever before the first blow landed. It stung like a giant bee had jammed it's poison barb deep inside and injected me with some horrible acid. I screamed but held onto the sawhorse.

She paused to let me think about it then let me have another on the other cheek. This one was worse and she waited even longer before continuing, alternating buttocks.

I began crying and apologizing and begging her to stop but she didn't. Always a long pause between, the horror of waiting growing and growing. You'd think it would become numb or something but every blow felt worse than the last.

Finally I think her arm grew tired. I wanted to collapse in the weeds around the sawhorse but she put her hand under my chin and said, "You're too old for this. Take care of yourself and get dressed and come inside. I'll put something on it."

She turned and walked back to the house. What did she mean? I looked down and saw my cock had stiffened harder than I'd ever felt before. Did she want me to -?

I spit on my hand and jerked off furiously, the sensation somehow melding with the stinging behind me and stimulating me incredibly. Of course I conjured the scene I'd witnessed the night before, the woman's eyes closed in ecstasy, her lovely body moving lasciviously in response to her lover behind her. The man's hands on her waist, coupling her too him, holding her against him tightly then releasing her to move away and back down over his cock...overwhelmed by erotic pleasure, I shot jet after jet of my come into the weeds.

When that ended there was only the horror of my sore ass. I pulled up my underpants (gently) and then my jeans (gently) and fastened my clothing on. Oddly enough my Mom was all smiles and happiness when I went in - we drank a Coke (me standing) and chatted about what the family should do after lunch. Mom had me help her wash the other car afterward and we simply moved on.

She never spanked me again. I became courtly toward her, not overly formal but I wanted her to know I loved her and appreciated her.

My parents' bedroom door was carefully closed for the rest of the vacation.

When Rosie got home from work she explained that the story above constituted most of my blubbering session while high. The rest was an admission that I wanted to replay the scene with a few revisions.

Rosie smirked and said that I'd told her I wanted to wear the silky pajamas and have her make love to me.

Standing, holding onto the bedpost.

She didn't seem perturbed by the desire but she had a few questions.

"There's no one to walk in on us, or peek at... you. Who's going to get spanked?"

I blinked at my wife. This was definitely paving new ground. It came out in a rush of words.

"I want you to paddle me afterward. It can be... symbolic. You don't have to... ruin me."

Again, the woman I loved to the core of my being simply nodded.

Understand, dear Reader, this was all new. We'd never engaged in pegging or even discussed it. We'd tried spanking, lightly, both of us but it didn't resonate, you see, so we returned to our usual ways.

That face I love, it smiled. Those eyes in which I delighted, sparkled with mischief and a strange joy.

"What?" I asked.

"It's been a long time since you surprised me. I bet you have other... stories you can share. I don't want us to take drugs again, but I want you to tell me everything. Not all at once. But everything. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

She frowned.

"Yes, ma'am," I said softly and she smiled.

"Go take a bath. Shave your legs."