Ms. Semone's Valentine's Panty LinebySoutheastPaddler©
It all started with the formation of a men's club which had two missions. One was to be a help to fine young women who had overextended themselves and found themselves in the red. However, the other reason for the existence of the club was not altruistic and the young women could not get the funds without providing the 'fun.' Let me start with this admittance. The names and places have been changed to protect the privacy we all appreciate. As a founding member in good standing of 'The Highlanders. We are a big deal in and around Roanoke and our small college where Radford is located. I had put together the art of the deal. However, that part of the account will be shared later. Join me on a journey as we celebrate the greatest personal time of the year. One where hope springs eternal and love is in the air.
I'm sure we all would agree love comes in many forms and shades. that's what makes us human. The heart wants, what the heart wants may sound simplistic, but when it comes to romance each brings the sum of their life experiences into the budding relationship. while there certainly is some good, I think we would all agree each of us also carries hurtful emotional baggage that we must deal with to be a successful couple. Picture it like a rose under the ground, that with some sun's love becomes the rose. Those inner petals expose the fantasies to their mate and, so a new romance has a chance to do what, so many fueled fantasies do not. A relationship that actually lives up to its expectations through the exploration of what to some would seem odd or strange. What follows is such an account where childhood experiences of both members of the couple form what the heart really wants in the hopes of living out a blistering hot romance.
For the sake of this account, meet the young looking small in stature who still looked fine, especially her butt. Mrs. Semone from Maryland you could say comes down on the pretty side of the curve. the early thirty-something teacher with shoulder length brown hair and the chipmunk-like face. Though small in stature, make no doubt about it she is a force in the classroom. and the long-wood red painted paddle she keeps at the ready in her middle drawer of her teacher desk. Trust me as a former student it was feared. I was tagged as a talker along with several girls. Boy, girl, it did not matter. If you had interrupted the flow of her classroom, your ass was in for a burning reminder after class.
Think this did not happen, think again! The account I am relating to you is first hand, not here say. Remember readers that in the 1970's south the paddle stood alone in its effectiveness to provide a sharp reminder to behave. while paddling's here and across the sea are seldom and only in rare cases such was not the during the bicentennial year of 1976. My point is that spankings given at school in this case with the paddle can in some cases can and evidently does lead to fantasies that include a wooden paddle. For these people the mention of leather whips and chains turns their stomach and in no way plays into their rich fantasies. I think it is fair to say that such physical punishments virtually are assured to enrich their fantasies and invent creative reasons, that might to the 'real world' seem capricious and downright silly. However, this is over reach on the part of the general public that have had the experiences and time to reach the age of thirty.
In theory my argument may be specious to the average reader. However, I encourage you to read further as I take the points I have made and fit them into one of the most vibrant romances that Valentine's Day has spawned. Well, at least in the realm using the parameters hinted at above. Precisely, the act of being a willing participant in an adult spanking. There I said it. so, what makes an adult spanking such a mind blowing experience, dear reader?
The scientist would say that the spanks with paddle or other implement heat up the surfaces closes to the sex organs. While psychologies might interject shared experience as we matured as adults and spanking was at the very least a punishment option in our lives. However, both of these avenues in my opinion fail to take in account the emotional baggage, some would call guilt for life's events and how as an adult we handle those issues. The question that needs to be asked, is does spanking relieve stress for bad feelings? And, if you agree with me about either premise, then can you not see that fundamentally that this could lead to a beautiful, romantic, relationship filled with elation? Now, if that relationship blossomed later in life on Valentine's Day at a time and place where age was less of a matter, wouldn't that be the perfect, 'Be My Valentine?"
I guess it could best said by quoting the Frank Sinatra song, "I did it my way." The teacher and me both brought into the relationship the experience, nuances and fantasies shaped by our lives and those included the stimuli from our childhoods. This is something that clearly has the ability to influence fantasies, wants, needs and desires. Might one assume a bright bottom can communicate to an adult that one's guilt has been relieved and the spankee is at peace? Well, dear readers, I submit for your examination the math teacher who became my valentine. From my side of the equation there was two factors.
During high school I had developed a reputation for being a talker. As a shy boy this was my way with interacting, although incorrectly with my classmates. I was also mercilessly picked on and any attention from my peers was like a drug for my soul. ironically, in a sensitive moment in an empty modular (trailer) classroom I explained all of this to my algebra teacher who already taken her red painted wooden paddle out from the back of her middle desk drawer and put it on the top of her desk. it struck fear in my heart and for good reason.
No matter, the season which determined pants, dresses or skirts for the girls, or for us boys corduroy pants instead of slacks. In the end, it didn't make a damn. Clothing did very little to dissipate the burn produced by a well swung paddle on any bottom including mine. Mrs. Semone was looking fine, but the paddle swat she had perfected courtesy of her tennis swing was heinous. The pretty brown haired teacher had developed a flick of the wrist right before impact with part where we would remember it most when we sat our desks the next day. I will never forget the next day after my last paddling, it was Valentine's Day. Our teacher came in the trailer door as I sat and fidgeted on my sore bottom. Mrs. Semone walked up to the blackboard in the front of the class. She had worn an above knee bright yellow clingy cotton dress and there was the naughty, unladylike visible panty line across her bottom that made a certain part stand at attention. this fueled my fantasies to spank her bent over across those panty line with her own long-wood red painted paddle. thankfully my erection went down before I was called to the board to work an equation. this represented a new fantasy I had never experienced where I was the one delivering the paddle to a deserving teacher
However, the paddle really did have some lasting benefits. as you can imagine and Julie under the Frazier's talked and one heated topic was the paddling Julie had recently received under the Frazier tree for missing math. Mrs. Semones's traveled outside specially about common experiences. After the tears had stopped dripping down our faces, boy or girl we all admitted that when we pulled down our underpants or panties after our time on the wrong end of the paddle. I polled Tim, Janice, Jay, Gwyn as well as Duncan and Juli were all fellow members of the high school 'hot seat' club. You might be surprised that the teacher who had made all of our butts bright voted for Mrs. Semone to be, Radford Teacher Of The Year.
Perhaps, even more remarkable was that each of us who on more than one occasion had bucked up off her desk from a paddle swat, was that we were involved in the full throated electioneering for this one of a kind teacher who had painted our behinds. To me this underscored what an effective teacher who cared enough to keep us focused. Detractors of corporal punishment would point to the liberal use of the paddle as the motivator. However, that would be very unfair to our Algebra teacher. I would suggest and I'm sure other paddled classmates would agree that the attention we received as we sat the next day on a sore bottom in our unforgiving hard plastic desk seats made the paddling's more acceptable than most would find after a paddling. I want to make one thing crystal clear, that is, if a teacher that acted like our Geometry Teacher there would be a garrison of students speaking up in favor of banning paddling. Clearly in our view there was a great difference between the two high school math teachers. While our geometry teacher let us talk among ourselves and allowed us to sit their without immediate consequences for not working on our problems, our algebra teacher presented us with consequences and held us accountable in a way that got our attention which brought fear to our rears.
What made these corrections memorable in a positive vein was the aftermath of one Of Mrs. Semone's bright red bottom paddling's. There was forgiveness. The slate had been wiped clean. Then there was individual teaching to re-teach concepts which after learned would allow for math notebooks to be completed and when this was accomplished a smile that let the student know she had a belief we could do the work. That hope for the future left us with a warm feeling even from what we all consider the most unpleasant of our high school days. We all succeeded and in cases from Gwyn to Charlotta and even Juli. In the case of the last two they had distinguished themselves as National Honor Society Members.
Honor student, star football player or class float representative, like me. It made no difference. The fact of the matter remained, the paddle was king for the students in Mrs. Semone's math class. As a result we of her inspiration we all went on to college and beat the odds of graduating from a rural Burlington Mills town. Funny how things can lead to buds of romance, because we have a sense of like experiences. If we are fully truthful, then as adults we must admits we make mistake and have errors in judgment that result to hurt to the ones that truly care about us. They say that history sometimes repeats itself. This was the case with Mrs. Semone's my former teacher paths passed at, Valentine's Day Massacre held in the city near Radford.
So, you might ask, how did we pick the Valentine's Day Massacre? Well, a bunch of red-blooded males weren't going to act out the Vagina Monologues. All this being said, you might wonder why part of the title denotes The Valentine's Day Massacre. Travelling along with Mrs. Semone, Maryland high school teachers too knew each other intimately. The trio of teachers had taught for more than ten years together. It should be noted that rears had little to fear in the PE Teacher CP English Teacher classes. However, by no means did that not mean that Audrey and Linda did not resort to spanking with their paddles when they felt it was necessary. The scuttle butt in Audrey's case was that she had and openly paddled her niece in the largest bathroom stall khaki uniform pants and white panties down for cutting up with a substitute teacher.
Each teacher had agreed to be a gangster girl, better known as 'mob moll.' I tell you, it was a pretty side three teachers all in a row. The lovely darlings had aged well. this was evident as they were lined up side by side. Me along with my fellow gentlemen ordered that our girls for the weekend lean over and put their hands on the stone wall. Then as three members of The Highlanders came up behind them holding red painted wooden paddles kicked open the schoolteacher's legs farther apart.
This was paintball without the tacky paint after effect that would mar the beautiful bright red bottom lined up against the Southside garage wall with panties still south of their vaginas.
Then, the three gangsters dressed as police officers took their place to the side of each the proffered bottoms. And, in turn each teacher was paddled right out in the open one swat at a time. This meant each teacher heard the crack of the paddle and the whimper after it landed on the mature bottom next to her and felt the dread that she next. Up and down the line of moll mobs Still the gentlemen felt they were being generous and acting humanely in their dealings with the 'Red Line Lassies." This was the nickname, The Highlanders had come up with the name for the lady gang of teachers who got in the red when they got in over their heads.
In the end I left with the newly divorced Ms. Semone, from Maryland. I was delighted when she agreed she was no longer my former teacher and it didn't come from the art of the deal. I romanced my former teacher's bum and flipped up the back of her yellow dress and to her breathless urgings took her strong from behind. Come be a fly on the wall.
Ms. Semone in her mid thirties and me in my mid twenties I had not taken my teacher. I had won her over. We were now lovers as fresh as the virgin snow. Each day and every hour would be filled with mutual respect that is proven by actions that make spanking one part of a vastly rich relationship. I was gratified when she told me it would be alright with her if in amorous situations I continued to call her Ms. Semone like I did when she was my teacher back in high school.
The teacher's wanton desires had been brought to light this Valentine's Day. And, I intended to please my teacher. the moment I felt harness nudge between her cheeks I felt her warm squishy hole. and, the heat from the spanking was quite evident. I entered and soon was plumb with her red bum. Her canal was unbelievably snug. I mean really tight. Ms. Semone wiggled and whimpered as she got used to my size. she pinched my butt and ordered me to get on with it. so, I turned the dial up and fucked her pounding into her ass until she was babbling. it was not heinous, but she knew she had been taken bottoms up!
I must admit I was taken aback when she cajoled me to pound what to an observer would look like a paddled bright red bottom. Her fine looking ass, red all over was too much and I was afraid I would overflow her canal with an enema sized volume of cum which would leak between her red cheeks. I don't know why but she breathlessly asked me to spank her already red ass. Well, I didn't have to be asked twice, so I firmly began to spank her bottom. She called me 'lame ass and urged me not to be a panty waist about things. The bitch teased me and something inside let loose from the years of being bullied.
Ms. Semone looked fine and she was not secure. However, she quickly found she had awaken a force. I wouldn't call it a dark force, but it is one that as long as she kept her bottom up in the air, I was going to make teacher spanking with her paddle fantasy come true. the rest is history. I paddled those cheeks with a purpose which resulted throbs, sobs and licks ripped through her climaxing body. I pulled out my fierce member and sprayed my tribute all over my teacher's red ass. this role play had been hot for both of us and it showed in the blush in the girl from Maryland's cheeks. She was no longer my teacher and although our age differences in private she would be my girl who in occasion would get a spanking with her red painted wooden paddle in the middle drawer of her school teacher desk. Perhaps with her bent over her desk and then taken from behind in her secluded math classroom.
Believe me, I knew she would dig that when I saw her face which was priceless. Still, the wooden paddle in it to give it a real college feel. When Ms. Semone she saw a replica of her paddle. I had guessed right. she wanted to be paddled and fantasized that it was her paddle. Unlike hers when I picked mine up to use on her fine fanny, the bottom side was smooth wood. the other side ingenuously I cut out cardboard in the shape of the paddle, which I had been glued to the long wood face's length. It was not a college paddle. it was 1/4 inch thick and little longer than a ruler like the one me, Gwyn, Charlotta, Juli and other bad boys and girls had felt across their bottoms. Boy did this bring back memories of high school bent over her desk while she swung the red wooden paddle like with an advanced tennis stroke . I just happen to have been watch Ms. Semone as she played her role as my teacher and her nicely brown hair trimmed vagina was dripping down her short legs and many hours spent playing tennis made her thighs want me to milk. Oh those tennis thighs along with that firm fine butt made me also cream, but, I had more in store for Ms. Semone.
In the end the art of the deal was to take a juicy nugget provided by her fellow teachers, Linda. Audrey had gotten into the act by taking my original idea to paddle all three teachers and suggesting paint ball cartridges that would sound like the real ones being shot at Ms. Semones, while their butts were shot with a much lighter spongy ball. The other two gentlemen were also in on the farce. I was very pleased, everything was going to plan and then, the unexpected happened and I about shit. My former teacher suggested to Audrey before long that they should pull up their dresses and pulled down their panties. I blew a sigh of relief when Linda steadfastly refused on behalf of both and they left for Maryland.
During The Valentine's Day Massacre the thirty-something teachers, Audrey and Linda had gone a long way and were in good stead. with me. they had whimpered, cried and bucked their bottoms back and forth mimicking the burn Ms. Semone was actually feeling in her bottom.
Now you know the lengths I went to win the heart of Ms. Semone. After all like a rose our love had just blossomed. Besides, think about this. Red is the color of love. Simply put, I romanced her bum and gave the lady not what she already had, but nifty shades of love.