April, Part Seven

During the course of the next two or three days I called April's telephone number, but never got a reply. She did not contact me, so I was tempted to just forget the whole thing and put her down as a casual shag, but something puzzled me, and I do so hate things that are a puzzle to me.

Had April been some minger that I had picked up in a bar late at night and given a seeing to down a back alley in a knee trembling sort of way, then the fact that it was a one off would not have troubled me. However, that was not the case with this woman. In fact, she had chased me that day in the park and most of the phone calls and texts that came afterwards had come from her. Given that she had not complained about the actual sex - quite the reverse in fact - what the devil was going on now? I decided to investigate.

Since April refused to take my calls or answer my texts I drove over to the house where we had enjoyed our afternoon together. I had no plan in mind, but living in Mexico all those years taught me a thing or two about how to get answers from people, so I went to the bank and got out a wad of nice, crisp notes.

I arrived at the house and knocked on the door, which was opened a moment later by a fat sack of blubber in her mid-forties who eyed me with rat-like suspicion. I explained who I was and what I was after and I saw a kind of nervous smile break out in between all the fat on her revolting face.

"Relax, I'm not here to cause your trouble," I told her.

"Why do you want to know things?"

"I am of a curious bent.Let's have a chat," I said.

The fat face was now smirking. Christ - why she trying to be coquettish? Yes, she was. Never mind, I thought, as I ploughed ahead.

The creatures invited me in and went to make some tea. When she returned the story she told amazed even me.

She was April's cleaner and over the years the two women had got to know each other. Creature features knew that April was seeing other men and one day had jokingly told her that if she needed a place to take them that was discrete then the creature's house was at April's beck and call.

"What! How often does she bring blokes here?"

"Two or three times a month," was the creature's prompt reply.

"I met her in a park, she can't do that in mid-winter, can she? What does she do, pick them up in bars I suppose?"

"Naah, got herself on a dating site. They come to her and she picks out the ones that she wants and writes to 'em," creature-features said with a smile.

"Why doesn't she stick with one?"

"Are you faithful?"

"It's not about faithfulness. If I meet a woman with a friendly pussy then I will carry on fucking her even if I don't like her all that much," I explained. 

"April's not like that. She enjoys having fellas chase her and then the build-up to the big day. As soon as it is over she wants them out because there will be another one waiting in the wings."

"How does it work? Can you explain it to me?"

"She gets a message from a guy that she fancies on the site. She writes to him and if they hit it off then they plan to meet. What turns her on is that planning - all the texts and phone calls. Chatting about what they are going to do to each other when they get together: that's the real turn-on. The sex is just about ending it so she can move on," creature-features explained.

"It seems an awful lot of trouble for a simple shag," I said at length, shaking my head in bewilderment.

"That's 'cos you're a fella," the creature said. "All you want is sex, but April wants to feel desired, to feel wanted like a woman needs to be wanted. Her husband only thinks about work," she concluded.

I could have explained that if it had not been for the husband April would probably be sucking cock for money, not fun, but I decided not to bother.I stood up to leave and thanked her for her time.

"I'm at a bit of a loose end this coming weekend, the creature said, with a hopeful glint in her eye. "Are you doing anything?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her truthfully that if she had the last pussy one earth I would still sooner have had a wank, but why make enemies? I made my excuses and left the house as quickly as possible.

Driving back I had to smile at April and her foolishness. Only a woman could go to all that trouble for a bodily function, which is all a shag is. A necessary one, admittedly, just like having a shit, but nothing more than that at the end of the day. 

Then I had a thought: how many other women were there like April, bored out of their superficial little minds as their wretched husbands struggled to keep the family afloat?

That night I joined a dating site to find out!

April, Part Six

April nodded at my words and we went upstairs to the bedroom. Once there she turned to face me, adopting that quite delightful head slightly down posture that freshly spanked females often have. Standing in front of her I stroked her flanks gently and then turned her around so that her roasted rear end was on display, before gently, every so gently, pushing her onto the bed. April lay there quite submissively with her feet on the floor and her upper body resting on the bed awaiting my next move. I remember that she put a fist into her mouth when I used my middle finger to open up the lips to her pussy and then slowly entered her with the digit.

"You are wet," I told her, stating the obvious, I suppose.

April moaned slightly but other than that she made no sound as I slowly fingered her until the pussy was slick enough to take my cock. These things should not be hurried, so I let my finger move around inside her whilst I admired my handiwork on her bottom. I have to be honest and say that it was one of my finer spankings so there was plenty to admire.

Once her opening had become juicy enough for my tastes, I quickly stripped myself naked, took my cock in my hand and placed it firmly in the gate to paradise. I pushed the head inside April's pussy and then moved it backwards and forwards until it became thoroughly wet from her juices. Then I slowly pushed it deeper inside her, withdrawing after each thrust before pushing back to go deeper and deeper inside her until my sword was buried up to its hilt in her welcoming flesh.

Then I fucked her. Holding her hips I levered my cock into her, pulling back on her body as my meat was driven into her helpless, yielding body. I heard April groan deeply as she began to receive her fucking, and then she placed her palms on either side of her body, above her head, and lifted herself up slightly, with her head held back.

"Christ, it's hard," she moaned. "You are having me, aren't you? Tell me what you are doing to me," she begged.

"Giving you a good fucking, and looking at your bottom; your nice, red bottom, while I give you my cock," I replied, between clenched teeth.

"You smacked me very hard - I can still feel your hand on my bottom."

"Do as you are told in future and it won't happen again," was all I said.

"You like being in control, don't you?"

"I am in control. I give the orders, just like I do the fucking."

April let out a long gasp at my words and I felt her pussy muscles clench as my cock was rammed into her. I paused with the head just inside her lips and then I drove it into her body, slowly and remorselessly, until it was buried inside her as far as it would go. Another pause, and then I repeated the action, slowly but surely building up the fuck rhythm until I had reached a good killing speed.

Then I lost control. All my muscles relaxed no matter how hard I tried to hold them  closed and I felt the surge of hot cream begin to surge upwards from balls that had suddenly become too heavy and full. From somewhere below me I heard April let out a scream of animal pleasure as I began to pump my juices out into her eager body.

I collapsed on top of her, all energies spent. April complained loudly as my belly pressed into her sorely tried rump and ever the white man I moved to one side and lay next to her. Give her credit because she had the decency to nod her thanks and then we both just remained stationary for some long minutes until we had recovered from the bout.

Eventually April began to move and I took that as a sign for a kiss so I moved towards her and kissed her on the lips. She smiled as we broke apart and stood up to stretch herself cat-like at the side of the bed.

"We have to get a move on," she said. "Do you want a quick shower?"

I must be honest and say that it was not what I had been expecting, but I told her to go first and when she returned just a very short while later I toddled off and let the shower's cooling stream do its work on my sweating frame. When I returned to the bedroom it was to find April dressed and ready to go. She looked at her watch in a non too subtle way to encourage me to get a  move on so I pulled my clothes over my body and was then ushered downstairs and out of the house. before I really had time to get my brain into gear she had given me a peck on the cheek, said her goodbyes and climbed into her Jaguar and driven off, leaving me very confused indeed.

To be continued.

April, Part Five

I administered a dozen or so hard smacks on alternate buttock cheeks, each one delivered with all the force of my arm behind it. April twisted and squealed every time that my hard male palm cracked across her soft feminine bottom, so I knew that my ministrations were having their effect.

"Let me go," she muttered between clenched teeth.

I paused for a moment at that and wondered to myself why women almost always say the same thing when having their behaviour modified across a man's knee? You would think that someone would come up with something original, but no, it is always either April's comment or the "It hurts" routine. As my arm rose and fell remorselessly I can remember that I smiled to myself at the thought that perhaps April might come out with the other hackneyed phrase.

"This is hurting! Not stop it because I am being serious now," she said, thus proving that women really do need to work on their dialogue so as not to become completely predictable.

Of course any man who stops a spanking just because the mouthy little madam on the receiving end demands that of him is really so retarded as to be beyond salvation. Let a woman go at a moment like that and she will scream blue murder. No, the only thing to do is redouble the effort and lay on the smacks with a will and a great deal of enthusiasm until the insolence is broken.

That is exactly what I proceeded to do. Each smack landed on the target area as if a metronome was keeping time. First the left cheek and then the right received a visit from my hand before I returned to the left and starting again. I spanked on and on until April's bottom became the colour of a ripe tomato and her wriggles gradually ceased to be quite so violent as slowly the power of my right arm smacked the fight out of her.

Sensing that this was happening I decreased the speed at which the smacks were administered, but increased their severity. To be honest, my arm was beginning to ache and my palm was stinging, so I was rather keen to bring the matter to a suitable conclusion. I might add that my cock had hardened noticeably thanks to April's wriggling about over it, and that was probably the main reason why I wanted to bring the spanking to a close. April had taken the hand, now it was time for her to get the cock, just as soon as her silly defiance was broken.

"Please," she whimpered, and that was the first time that she had pleaded instead of demanded, so I knew that the end was near as my hand continued its remorseless descent onto her sore, swollen and red buttocks.

"Please let me go. Please, I'll do whatever you want. Please just make it stop, I am very sorry," April pleaded. Then she burst bursting into tears, and lay across my knee totally still, with only her buttocks twitching at each smack as it landed.

I looked down at the wretched woman that I had just corrected. "I hope that I am not going to get any more lip from you," I said firmly.

"No, you won't, I promise," she replied.

"Good, I said, and followed that up with a final flurry of hard smacks just to remind madam of who was in control in that house. Then I dumped her on the floor and sat back as she lay on the carpet, utterly defeated, sobbing bitter tears of remorse and clutching her well spanked bottom in both hands.

April slowly began to calm down and her near hysterical sobs turned to sniffles before she sat up to look at me through tears-clouded eyes. I smiled as her bottom touched the carpet and she winced before moving her body to one side so that her weight was taken on her legs which she tucked underneath her.

I reached down and stroked my cock, very slowly and obviously. "April," I said at length. "You know that this needs your attention, don't you?"

She nodded quickly and began to get to her feet. As she did that I stood up as well and I reached out for her, guessing correctly as it turned out, that her legs would be unsteady. April wrapped her arms around me and we stood there quietly for a moment until the shaking in her body had stopped.

"Please don't smack me again," she said quietly.

I took her hand and placed it over my cock. She stroked it through my trousers as I spoke to her. "I won't have to spank you again because you are going to be a good girl, now," I told her.

April nodded by way of reply.

"Time for bed," I told her firmly.

To be continued.

April, Part Four

I was tucked up in bed on the morning of the day that we were due to meet when my telephone rang and I heard April's dulcet toners wishing me a good morning. Actually, she did rather more than that as with great aplomb she asked me to grab a pen and paper and then write down the address that she was going to give me.  I had asked her for an address before, and she had replied quite firmly that we would meet at the house of a friend, so as to avoid noisy neighbours. I suspected that it was more likely that she did not want me to know in exactly which leafy suburb she resided, but I was not going to make a fuss so long as my cock was attended to in some bed or other. Obviously she had arranged the use of a bedroom, so all I had to do was drive over to that house. We arranged to meet two hours later, so that gave me time to shit, shower and shave in readiness for the big event.

Since I know next to nothing about the English Midlands, it was a good thing that I had invested in a satellite navigation system. I just plopped the address into that and set off following the directions as given by the disembodied voice that came over the car's speaker system. I came in for a shock as instead of a leafy suburb the system directed me to a 1960s council estate. Feeling moderately curious, I parked the car outside the address that I had been given, and walked up the path to knock on the door.

April opened it when I was still a pace or so away, so she must have been watching out for my arrival. She stepped back as my shadow fell into the doorway and I walked in and back-heeled the door shut before grabbing a good handful of luscious April. She was wearing an almost transparent black negligée, decorated with red rose buds, and I could she that she was naked underneath it.

As my arms encircled her waist, April's hands went behind my back underneath the jacket and I felt her nails dig into my flesh as our lips met hungrily.

As we broke away she looked me in the eye with a look of utter determination on her face. Then, without warning, she  leaned forward and bit me hard on the chin. I screamed, partly out of shock, but mainly because her teeth had sunk deep into my flesh and it bloody hurt!

April stepped back and fixed me with a look of vulpine triumph. "That fucking hurt," was all I managed to splutter as I grabbed my aching jaw.

"Yeah, what are you going to do about it? I think I'll give you a slap to go with the bite," she announced, raising her hand in preparation to do just that.

I grabbed her wrist, which she managed to pull back towards her mouth, obviously with the intention of sinking her fangs into my hand.

"Nark it, bitch, or you will feel my hand across your bare arse," I told her angrily.

"You and whose army?" The look of defiance that accompanied that sarcastic taunt told me just about everything that I needed to know about April. So she liked it rough, did she? That suited me down to the ground: time to paddle a backside, I decided.

I reached out and grabbed the belt that held her negligée closed and pulled it away from the slinky material that covered her body. Then I quickly pulled the garment open and as soon as I had done that I spun April around and yanked the robe off her shoulders and pulled it down enough so that when I let go it fell to her ankles.

She turned around at that and covered her pussy with one hand, the other being raised to hit me. "Bastard," she hissed between clenched teeth.

I stepped back so that I could grab her if she tried to strike out at me again, and she took the opportunity to dart to her left and into the living room. April tried to close the door that led from the hallway into that room, but I was right behind her, so she took up station in the middle of the room and eyed me warily.

"Bitch," I told her, by then thoroughly irritated by her antics. "You are gonna be put in your place, bitch, and taught to behave properly," I promised.

There was another door to April's left that led to a back room, with a large kitchen behind it. She darted off to that doorway but I got there at exactly the same moment as her having anticipated the move and my arm encircled her waist and then I picked her up in one easy motion.

"Put me down, you bastard! Do you hear me?"

"I hear you. Can't fail to hear you," I said as I half carried her to the sofa that took up one wall in the living room. "Got more gob on you than a cow's got cunt," I concluded, sitting down and pulling April into position across my knee.

"You take the yob out of Manchester, but you can never take Manchester out of the yob," said April, truthfully I thought.

After cocking a leg over April's kicking thighs and folding both arms into the small of her back, to hold them their at the wrists, I looked down at the bottom that was now mine to deal with as I chose.

I raised my hand above my head and then brought it  down with a crack that echoed through the room like a gunshot as it smacked across the ripe buttocks that were helpless below it.

To be continued.

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Tulisa Contostavlos

Have you ever heard of Tulisa Contostavlos? You probably haven't, but I am awarded her an Order of the Burning Buttocks for the following reasons:

Firstly, having made a sex tape which was obviously leaked to boost whatever career this girl had, she then tried to stop the web from perving over her cock sucking capers. Yes, that was a success, wasn't it? So a good spanking is called for because of  that act of basic stupidity.

Secondly, for not getting someone to review her dialogue in the exculpatory video she made, which is reproduced above. I mean, the comment about not sitting down with her mouth shut is so wonderfully off the wall as to be unbelievable. We know that you didn't do that, dear, because we have all seen you on your knees, mouth open to take a good sized cock in it. And don't get me started on the "intimate moments" comment which you repeated heaven knows how many times. Dear, we have all watched you in action and it was about as intimate a moment as any provided in a bus shelter when the discos kick out.

Finally, we were deprived of our pop shot! Sorry, Tulisa, but we wanted to see him shoot his wad all over your face or you taking his cock oil into your open mouth and then swallowing every drop like a good girl should. Depriving us of this is a no-no and deserves an extra heavy spanking for you.

Now then, we know that you are an X-Factor judge and that Simon Cowell is reported to have said that you can keep your job if you go down on your knees, but before that happens, come here young lady, you know that you deserve this!

What's that? You want to watch the blow job? OK, here you go:

April, Part Three

That took place some days later as April explained that the following week was the earliest that she could get an afternoon free. At first I was mildly irritated by that news, but I perked up as the weather remained agreeable and a few more afternoon sitting in the sun would not do me any harm, I reasoned.

Actually, it was all rather entertaining because April rang me two or three times a day for long chats on the telephone, chats that were  interspersed with literally dozens of increasingly filthy text messages.  She would ask me to describe again and again how I was going to spank her and then what the fucking would be like. Once I told her that I enjoy riveting a freshly spanked female doggie style so that I can enjoy the sight of her red buttocks, she wanted to talk about that for at least a day. Would I still be holding her down as I fucked her? Would she be on the bed or bent over the back of a chair? She had never been fucked like that, so what was it like?

Her texts were wonderfully pornographic and managed to shock even me and that takes some doing. April loved using just a few short sentences to create an erotic image that lingered in my mind until the next text arrived to continue the pornographic video that her words created in my mind's eye:

I am in the supermarket thinking about you. I am so wet between my legs. Can you imagine how I feel?

Then, a few ten minutes later:

I need to change my knickers. Should I buy another pair or go home bare? What if the wind blows?

 Finally:

I bought a white thong, it leaves my bottom bare but covers me down there. Help me! I am wetting it as well! 

 It was no good - I was not going to last any longer. That afternoon as we were talking on the 'phone I told her how hard my cock had become and I heard her chuckle lasciviously at the news:

"I am ready for you as well," she said.

"Are you wet?"

"What do you think?"

"That's not the question. Answer me," I demanded.

"Yes, I am. Happy now?

How wet are you?

"I don't know," she answered, a trifle desperately.

"Put your hand inside your knickers and tell me," I ordered her quietly.

"Do I have to?"

"Do it!"

"I am very wet," she replied, a few seconds later.

"Do you have a toy?"

"Why?"

"That's not the question, is it? Now answer the question or you will get my belt across your arse when we meet. Do you have a toy?"

"Yes," she answered in a  voice that was scarcely above a whisper.

"Get it and then go and lie down on your bed, I told her curtly.

Whilst April was doing as she was told I pulled off my clothes and lay down myself on the bed. My cock was rock hard and ready to go, a small amount of pre-come dripping gently from the opening in the head. Normally it takes me a while to get fully operational, but I have to admit that my talks and texts with April had gone whirring through my mind and straight down to my meat. I lay back with the 'phone pressed to my ear with one hand and my rod in the other. I heard April picking up her telephone and I settled back, gently stroking one off as the game began.

"Tell me what kind of toy you have," I instructed her.

"It's a rabbit," she replied.

"Switch it on and let me hear the ears clicking," I told her, and then I listened to the sound that the vibrator makes when the clitoral stimulator has been switched on. Good girl, she was telling the truth about having the toy. I can remember wondering how long it would take for both of us to go over the edge, and then I lost interest in such idle speculation as I felt my balls grow heavy with the weight of the already bubbling juices that were contained inside them.

"I feel dirty, talking to you like this. Doing this sort of thing. Very dirty," she breathed, giving me my cue. So she wanted to be treated like the town bike, did she? Nothing would give me greater pleasure.

"Put your rabbit's head inside your pussy lips and hold it there, switched on," I told her. A gasp from April told me that she had obeyed. "Now push it inside you, very very slowly, I instructed her. More gasps and low moans told me that my instruction was being obeyed.

"What would your husband think if he could see you now?" There's nothing like cutting to the chase, I always think, and there was not going to be very much time for this as my cock was already as hard as it was going to get, its head glistening wetly with the pre-come juice.

"He won't know, will he? He won't know because he doesn't care about me," she cried.

"So you go and do dirty things with me, don't you, slut? Because he doesn't care about you does he?"

"Nooooo!"

"Does he, bitch?"

"No, he doesn't," she wailed, and at that I rewarded her with an order to her to frig herself faster.

"Imagine it's my cock inside you. You like cock, don't you? Good hard cock, that's what you need, isn't it, bitch?" I heard her start to say something, so I cut her off by insisting on an answer: "What do you need, bitch?"

"Cock, I need cock, that's what I need," she said, urgently.

"What are you? What are you? Tell me what you are," I demanded, my voice losing the gentleness that Oxford had given it as pure, rough Manchester came to the fore. "Answer me, bitch," I urged.

"I'm a bitch, and I want cock," she whimpered. "Oh Christ! Oh Christ! I'm coming, please I'm ready to come," she said, seconds later.

"So am I," was my truthful reply, as my  muscles relaxed, and the great surge of cock oil began its relentless surge forward.

We both yelled in unison as we reached our moment of truth together. My juices flew up and almost hit the damned ceiling, such was the power behind that shot. I heard April scream and then she gave out a long, low moan as her moment passed and we both collapsed in our respective beds to gather our thoughts and our breath.

"God, that was wonderful," I heard a drowsy voice say.

"When we meet up it will be even better," I promised her and was rewarded with one of her delightful chuckles.

"Only two days to go," she said. "Don't play with yourself again, please. I want it all for me when we meet."

"It's a deal," I told her.

I kept the promise, difficult though it was. April seemed to take a great pleasure in calling me at odd moments to tell me how sexy she felt, or what lingerie she had on. That was when she was not bombarding me with wonderfully salacious texts, of course. Believe me when I say that I spent the next couple of days as little more that an erection on legs. I was determined that the bout was going to start off with April paying for her sauciness in the most agreeable way possible across my knee and madam encouraged me to think that way with every text she wrote or call she made.

To be continued.

April, Part Two

To my surprise April called me the very next day. I was even more surprised when she announced that she had read my academic scribblings, and as if to prove it she went on to ask some fairly astute questions about the works. I thought that she was just calling out of courtesy, but the conversation quickly took a flirtatious tone, with madam giggling like a schoolgirl as she egged the conversation along the path that she wanted.

"So, you don't get to smack me because I did read your work," she said with aplomb.

"Oh, I am sure that I will soon be given a good reason to upend you," I replied, in the spirit of things.

"I'm a good girl!"

"Your husband never spanked you?"

"When did I tell you that I was married?" The tone of her voice told me that my comment had caught her off guard, and I smiled at the obviousness of it all.

"You didn't tell me anything, your wedding ring did," I replied.

"Proper Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?"

"Naah, but I did teach him everything he knows," I said and we both burst out laughing.

"My husband has better things to do, anyway," she went on in a quiet little voice as soon as the laughter had died down.

"Got himself a mistress, has he?"

"Yeah, his company," she blurted out with real anger in her voice. "Lives, breaths and sleeps his work. It wasn't like this until a year or so ago, but now all he does is live for work," she went on, the anger rising noticeably in her tone as she did so.

"What's his job?"

"Finance director," and she named the large company that her husband was involved with. I felt my eyes open at the information, trust me on that.

"I thought that it would all be about getting to the office once the streets are aired and then having a three hour liquid lunch," I said.

"He says that we are heading into a major recession and that things are going to get a lot worse and that the company is looking to make savings and he is needed there all the time," she explained. Listening to her voice I could hear the bitterness rising in it as she annunciated each word.

"You don't believe him?"

"I don't really care anymore. If he doesn't find me attractive there are plenty of others who do," she spat.

"You obviously speak from experience," told her lightly. "If you were mine I wouldn't be wasting my time in an office I told her, guessing correctly as it turned out just what she wanted to hear.

"Really? What would you be doing?" I could hear the excitement rising in her voice. Good, I thought, as I took the conversation into territory that I hoped would leave her moist and ready for the next stage in the game.

"Oh, I think that I would bring you to heel," I told her.

"How would you do that?"

" Put you across my knee, lift up your skirt, and take down your knickers," I told her, speaking very quietly and slowly.

"Then what would you do?"

"Then I would smack your bottom until it is the colour of a tomato," I told her.

"I would kick and scream and break free," she said, a trifle hastily. I noted that her breathing had become heavy as if she were breathing through her mouth.

"I will put my right leg over both of yours to hold your legs down," I told her.

"I can still dig my nails into your leg and claw down with them. That'd make your let go," she announced triumphantly.

"Not when I hold your wrists behind your back. Kick, wriggle, squirm - do what you want. You do not get up until I let you up, and that will not happen until I decide that your spanking is over." I did not shout, or try to talk April down. What I did was make it plain that female insolence toward me is paid for with a sore bottom. The conversation was light, but there was steel in my voice.

"We'll see about that, won't we?" April's question was rather spoilt by the huskiness of her voice as she spoke. I remember thinking that this woman was going to provide good entertainment when I finally got her inside a bedroom.

To be continued.

April, Part One

As you will have probably realised by now, I have a healthy respect for the world's good time girls. Whether it is cold hard cash or favours of some kind, a girl of negotiable virtue is more than willing to spread her thighs and allow ready access to her ripe and ever eager pussy in return for some of the things that she desires.

Alas, there is a type of good time girl who falls outside these mercenary boundaries and I must be honest and say that they make my flesh crawl. That is not to say that I try to avoid them because at the end of the day it is another notch to add to my cock, but I do despise them for what they are and what they do to men who fall under their spell. These girls do not want money or good times, what they are after is an emotional crutch that leaves them feeling desired. Many will just have emerged from a broken down affair and feel the need to boost their egos with a succession of men. Others will feel that their husbands are not giving them the attention that their vacuous little female minds demand. Either way, unless a fellow keeps his wits about him these mingers spell trouble.

April was a case in point, since she was all these things and more. Still, she was a good rattle, so I cannot complain, can I? At forty she was too old to chase, but not too old to fuck if handed out on a plate, which is basically what happened. I was living just outside Birmingham as the summer of 2010 turned to autumn. I had spent three months of the year before in a coma following a routine operation that went pear-shaped in Mexico. At the end of the year I returned to the United Kingdom for the first time in almost two decades and I spent the first few months of 2010 slowly learning to walk again as my muscles had atrophied after almost a year of inactivity. My plan was to recover slowly, but for reasons that would be as tiresome for you to read as they would be for me to write, I speeded up the process and at the very end of May 2010 I quite simply forced my body to start working properly by ignoring the pain that coursed through it. My version of physiotherapy seemed to work as by late summer I was in a pretty fine fettle, with only a walking stick needed to provide my with legs with total stability.

That September afternoon was one of those drowsy end of summer days that England sometimes gets. I was sitting on a park bench on a spot that overlooked a large lake, and was busily engaged in doing nothing very much that fine day. I can remember watching the heavyweight carp in the lake coming up to the surface to gasp for air on that sultry day, and I idly used my stick as an imaginary fishing rod, swinging it with my wrist as if I were casting out a line.

"Is that how you fish in Mexico?" The question was asked jocularly, obviously from a female standing somewhere to my right. Ah - there she was, an elfin faced brunette in a rather nice yellow sun dress, a late thirties, early forties bit of talent, not yet gone completely to fat, and so fit for someone to fuck. Not me, of course, since I do not chase women of that age, but most men would find her agreeable enough to pursue.

"Mexico... How did you know that?"

"Elementary, my dear Watson," she replied with a grin that ran from ear to ear. She came over to me and fingered my shirt, and then pointed to the broad brimmed panama that I was wearing. "You don't see them in this country," she concluded, triumphantly.

"They sell panamas, but you are right about the guayabera," I told her, as with my thumb I gestured to the white, pleated shirt with its four pockets that is worn outside the trousers, which I had on that day. "I could have been from Cuba," I went on, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"I didn't know they wore them, but was I right about Mexico?

"Yeah, you were. I lived there for almost twenty years," I told her.

"Why did you come back to this?"

"My health was bad, and England's home," was all I said. "My name's Nick, by the way," I went on.

"I'm April, pleased to meet you. What did you do over there?"

"University don."

I was being taciturn, largely because as far as I was concerned this was just a spot of idle chit-chat before I wandered off to get lunch. The rumbling in my stomach told me that it was time to move, so I eased myself forward on the park bench and took the weight on my stick with a view to getting up.

"Have you published anything recently?" The question was asked lightly, but I noticed that she was leaning forward, head cocked to one side, clearly interested in the answer.

"A few small things on Mexican history," I told her, before going on to list a couple of articles, before telling her where she could read them on-line.

"I will check that you are telling the truth,"she said, her finger wagging in mock sternness.

"And when you see that I am I will smack your bottom for doubting me," I replied, getting to my feet. I had no inclination to chance my arm with that woman, but it was something to say to end the conversation. On impulse I gave her one of my freshly printed business cards,  for no other reason than that they had arrived that morning and I had a supply in my pocket. Had I not had them I doubt if I would have fished around for a pen and paper to write my telephone number down - that is how indifferent I was.

"I'll be in touch if I like what I read," I heard her say as I sauntered off. I just raised my arm in acknowledgement before my thoughts turned to the idea of a damned fine chop with roast potatoes and some green stuff on the side. Maybe a decent claret to wash it down? I pondered the thought as I made my way to the eatery, and quite forgot the woman and her promise.

Which was a pity because the next day she rang me and it was game on.

To be continued.

Order of the Burning Buttocks: Imogen Thomas

An Order of the Burning Buttocks is hereby awarded to Miss Imogen Thomas, former chief leg-over of the footballer Ryan Giggs, for leaving the house without wearing knickers on a windy day.

Spanking Books Review

Chatting to the lovely Katerina, she of the Spanking Books Review site, and I am told that her quite wonderful bit of the web does not get all that many hits. This is a terrible situation, and one that must be rectified as soon as possible. Come on your spankers, Katerina reviews all the latest and best CP works and gives you her honest opinion of the book. The site is a gem so please point your browser to the Spanking Books Review and give her the hits that all her hard work deserves.

Eva, Part Six

There is no finer sight than that of a freshly spanked female. Starting with the subdued mien once the tears have stopped. The way in which the head is often kept down as if the owner fears meeting her chastiser's eye in case he decides that he can see insolence in her gaze and decides that further correction is in order. The quiet mode of speech, with the girl speaking softly and only in answer to questions that are put to her. Finally, the way in which she clutches her well spanked rear end. Holds it, almost fondles it, to try and rub out the fire that has been lit in it. What is to be done with such a woman? I take the view that there is really only one thing that should be done with such a submissive, well disciplined and obedient creature and that is to bend her over so that her bright red buttocks are clearly displayed for my pleasure and then fuck her to my total and complete satisfaction. Which is what I proceeded to do to Eva...

Grabbing the two pillows from the bed I placed them in the middle of the mattress and then put Eva face down with her stomach resting on them. Her buttocks were lifted up lasciviously, and as I opened her legs, I saw that her pussy was glistening moistly, almost inviting me to take my pleasure of it. I licked my middle finger and ran the tip just inside the opening to Eva's body. She was wet, and as my finger explored deeper and deeper inside her she became increasingly receptive for the cock that was soon to open her up.

I could not wait any longer. As Eva's moans increased in intensity and as her wetness became slippery as her body prepared itself to receive the cock that it knew was on its way, I pulled my meat two or three times so that it became completely fuck-ready hard. Then I placed the cock-head in the opening and slowly, irrevocably I drove it home deep inside her ripe young pussy.

The first time that I had fucked Eva she had struggled and our lovemaking had become a kind of bout that saw her overpowered and taken. This time she did not try to contest my right to have her in any way, she simply thrust her hips backwards in time with my fuck thrusts into her and quickly, very very quickly the tempo built up to the killing speed.

I can remember lifting myself up on my arms and looking down at her luscious red bottom that twitched as my cock pounded its way inside Eva's body. That was all it took, really, one glance at the bottom that I had just finished spanking. Then I felt it begin, the raging torrent of rich hot cream began to flow upwards and out of my balls. I clenched every muscle that I could to try and stop the flood, but it was no use as my body relaxed all the muscles and the seed flooded out to fill Eva's body and leave her sated. I collapsed on top of her and neither of us moved for quite some time. 

She was quite a girl, that young Eva. I kept my promise to her and continued to help her with the paperwork as and when she asked me to. Luckily, I suppose, she did not need much help once she had discovered that the west does not work on quite the same informal way as does the third world. We carried on seeing each other, until one day we stopped and that was that. I suppose that she went to Germany, or found herself a wealthy meal ticket in Mexico, it really does not matter because I was no longer involved with her hence my interest waned.

That said, she was a damned fine poke!

Eva, Part Five

I suppose that it was the mother who deserved the paddling, but the though of having such a creature across my knee and then having to fuck her afterwards made me feel queasy. Although I am not all that choosy about whom I fuck, even I have limits, and a scabby old slapper gone to fat exceeded them by a mile. So I decided to upend Eva instead, reasoning that she deserved it for listening to the old hag in the first place. Besides, I suspected that she would tell her mother all about her smarting bottom and the harridan might feel some guilt for what I had felt constrained to administer to her poor daughter's backside.

Eva was giggled and fidgeting deliciously inside the clothes that she had chosen for her consular meeting. She had on a cream skirt that ended just above her knees and a matching jacket with three-quarter length sleeves. Underneath the jacket she wore a white T-shirt, and her black handbag had obviously been chosen to match the black, kitten-heeled shoes that she was wearing. All in all she looked a delight and try as I might I could not stop smiling at the sight of a luscious little 18-year old who knows that sitting down is going to be rather uncomfortable very soon.

We got to the hotel and I decided to spend a moment or so arranging a room on the upper floor with the concierge, and whilst that was going on Eva was hopping about from one foot to another as she became seriously nervous.

"I need to wee," she said, as we went up to our floor in the lift.

"You went earlier," I reminded her.

"Yes, but I need to go again. Please make the lift hurry." Women do say some silly things at times like that to be sure.

"Naughty girls who know that they are going to be spanked often need to pee," I said, as the lift stopped on our floor and the doors opened.

I pretended not to be able to get the key into the lock and I fumbled with it for a moment or so as I watched Eva and her increasingly desperate antics out of the corner of my eye.

"Were you like this with your father?" The question was pure speculation, but I often feel that things we do in our later lives have their roots in our childhood and that is doubly true of women. I will never forget a girl who became totally placid when having her hair brushed, because in her mind that was how she used to sit when daddy was brushing her hair. With Eva, the guess was that when daddy was going to smack his little girl's bottom she suddenly felt a need to go to the loo, or did she let go when he was telling her what a bad girl she had been? Now there was a thought that needed further investigation!

The chance came seconds later as I opened the door and Eva scampered into the room and darted into the bathroom. Alas for her |I was right behind her and I pushed her against the wall and held her there for a moment, each one of her wrists held in  my vice-like grip.

"Please, please, let me go. I need to wee," she pleaded with a desperation that was an entertainment in itself.

"Control yourself," I said with all the coldness in the world in my voice.

Eva stopped struggling but she kept hopping from one foot to the other. She looked at me pleadingly with her lips clamped together and he head cocked slightly to one side.

"Now you listen to me, young lady," was how I began my lecture. "The fact that you cannot control yourself is further proof of just how naughty you are." I let go of her wrists and gave her a little shake from the shoulders. "Do you understand me?"

Eva nodded, her lower lip starting to quiver.

"I am sorry" was all she said as her bladder relaxed and a warm stream began to roll down her legs and onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. I immediately took up her skirt and lifted it slightly so that it would not get wet. Then I remained stationary as Eva finished emptying her bladder onto the floor via her white lace knickers.

"What did you daddy do when you behaved like this in front of him?"

"Said I was a naughty, naughty girl and that I would cry myself to sleep, lying on my tummy that night," she whimpered in reply.

"Well, that is exactly what is going to happen to you right now. I have never in all my life had to deal with a girl as bad as you. It is bad enough that you have to be spanked at the age of eighteen, but it is even worse that you cannot control yourself," I told her in my best paternal manner. I wanted to to think that daddy was not angry, exactly, but he was terribly disappointed in his little girl, and I am pleased to say that it worked like a charm. Eva threw her arms around my neck and began to sob for forgiveness.

Breaking her grip around my neck I turned my back and indicated with a finger that she should follow me to the bedroom. Once there I walked calmly over to the bed and sat down and was pleased to see that Eva was only a couple of paces behind me. For some reason she had brought a towel with her and I was puzzled for a moment, but then she solved the riddle by placing the towel over my legs so that my trousers would not get wet.

"Did you do that for your father?"

"Eva nodded, and I indicated to her to get over my knee. I must be honest and say that I half expected her to resist as most girls do when they are about to undergo correction, but she took up her position without a murmur. 

I can remember thinking that the Germans are a fine race as I lifted up Eva's skirt to expose her bottom that was still clad in the sodden knickers. Carefully I peeled them down to mid-thigh, and then I paused for a moment as is my wont, with my hand resting on the bottom that was soon to feel its hardness.

"You have been a very naughty girl and are going to be spanked very hard indeed. I shall probably see some tears before this is all over and you will almost certainly want to sleep on your tummy tonight, do you understand me?"

"Please," Eva whimpered as my hand was raised above my head.

"Do you understand? That was the question," I demanded.

"Yes," was all she said as my hand came down in a great whistling arc and cracked across that bare bottom that lay helpless underneath it.

Eva twitched as each smack rebounded against her bottom, and as the spanking progressed I noticed that she began to wriggle from side to side, but other than that she made no move. Unlike the previous spanking this one was going to be long and memorable, and I remember wondering if that stoicism would last for very much longer.

Actually it did. In fact it lasted for the duration of the spanking which I have to admit was not the hardest that I have ever administered to a young chit. My hand rose and fell with the rhythm of a metronome, with first one cheek and then the other receiving its visit from my male palm.

As this spanking did not involve a battle royal to keep Eva in position across my knee, I allowed my mind to wander even as my arm continued to rise and fall. I thought that I could hear a noise in the corridor, and then I realised that it was one of the chambermaids with her trolley as she moved it along from room to room. If I could hear her than she could certainly hear my hand cracking across Eva's bare bottom, and I considered bringing the proceedings to a close. Then I decided not to bother, as the sound would serve to remind any female listening of the price that must be paid for naughtiness.

My arm was aching. That more than anything else is what persuaded me to bring the discipline to a close. With the sigh of a man who knows that he has done a good job, I dumped Eva gently onto the floor and left her to blubber to her heart's content whilst I went over to a chair to sit down and smoke a cigarette.

I had smoked about half my cigarette when Eva looked up and announced that she needed to go to the bathroom. I nodded and told her to remove all her clothes. Whilst she was gone I stripped myself naked and waited for her in the chair, my cock growing harder by the minute in anticipation of what was to come.

Eventually Eva returned, naked as I had asked. I stood up and held my meat in my hand, pointing it forward at her.

"I am going to give you the fucking of your young life," was all that I said.

To be concluded.

Eva, Part Four

Everything seemed to be heading swimmingly as the taxi dropped Eva at her home and then took me to mine. I remember sitting back as the car weaved its way down the country lane and thinking that I had acquired a damned fine poke that I hoped would last me for a while. Little did I realise that things were about to go pear-shaped on the Eva front.

It started late the next morning when I fell out of bed and wandered to the mechanic's to pick up my car. Then I drove to my usual breakfast spot and spent a leisurely hour breaking my fast. Finally I paid the bill and called Eva from the payphone that stood on the street outside the restaurant.

She picked up the receiver after the first couple of rings, and I could tell from the tone of her voice that something was wrong.

"I told mummy about you and she said that I should get my head out of the clouds," Eva told me. "She said that I can do better than a married man, even if you are from Britain. You are not going to take me there, are you? That's what mummy said, she concluded, defiantly, as if I was going to disagree with anything she had said.

"I never said that I would take you anywhere, did I? I said that I would help sort out your German papers and that I will do. . ." That was as far as I got as the telephone receiver was taken by a creature of the female persuasion who began screeching down the line in my ear:

"You have betrayed my daughter's trust! How dare you build up her hopes like that! I will complain to the police and get you deported! You have no right!" On and on the rancid old slapper went, and after her first sentence I held up my left wrist with the watch on it to time the bitch's rant. She managed an incredible forty-five seconds before she paused for breath, which I think is some kind of record for hysterical females who take their cues from the crappy soap operas that they watch all fucking day.

"Fancy a kick up the cunt? It would be my pleasure, you rancid little minger," was my calm and considered response as soon as those forty-five seconds were over.

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Taking a deep breath I went on to patiently explain the politics of the situation to mummy:

"As I was explaining to Eva, before you grabbed the 'phone, I will come over to her house today and review the papers. Then I will take her to the German consulate and start the ball rolling on her passport. After that she is on her fucking own. Alternatively," I went on, speaking between clenched teeth, I could hang up here and now and you can both go and fuck yourselves." It is always nice to give people an option I think, but with a typical peasant suspicion,  the hag decided to ask the obvious question that types like that always come out with:

"How can I be sure you won't pull a fast one?"

"Don't be fucking stupid. I have already fucked Eva once and I want to have her again. That is not going to happen if I do not keep my side of the bargain, is it?

"Very well, now you listen to me you arrogant piece of shit. I have seven brothers in Tamaulipas, and they will cut your balls off and make you eat them if you do not keep your word."


I know Tamaulipas as an arid lump of desert that breeds hard men who believe in the concept of la vendetta, so I believed every word that the bitch said - not that it concerned me in the least.


"I will come over to the house right now to look at the papers. I need Eva's birth certificate, your marriage certificate and any documents from Germany that you might have," I told her.


"When will you arrive?"


"In about an hour."


"The papers will be ready," she said very quietly, but firmly.


I arrived on time and was shown into the small but rather nice house that was obviously going downhill now that the old man was no longer around to pay the bills. The mother was as I expected her to be, a slab of blubber in her early forties that even drunk I would think twice about touching. We greeted each other warily and I sat down at the table to inspect the paperwork.


There was Eva's birth certificate with both her parents listed on it. I noted that the paternal grandparents were listed as German, but was puzzled to see that the father's nationality was down as Mexican. I raised that with Eva who silently passed me her father's Mexican naturalisation document which clearly showed that he was born in Germany. Finally, I was shown his German birth certificate and a Spanish residence card, which listed him as stateless. I could see what had happened in 1945 as the Spanish had let him in and then probably jollied him along into seeking a more permanent refuge in Latin-America. I decided that the Spanish bit might confuse the ever so pedantic Germans and thought it best to leave that to one side.


"Right, put these documents in a  folder and tomorrow morning we shall drive to the city centre and get things moving," was what I told Eva. That was it - I left the house there and then because quite frankly her old bitch of a mother was making my flesh crawl.


The next morning I drove Eva over to the German consulate and showed her how simple things can be in the west if you have all the correct papers. I explained on her behalf what the situation was and then made my excuses and left Eva to sit and chat with the consular staff member. About half and hour later she emerged with a big grin on her face and told me that the consulate was checking her papers to make sure that everything was in order, and once that had been done she could apply for her new birth certificate and with that get a passport.


"The only problem is the cost," she explained. "What do you think I should do?" She has a grin on her face that ran from ear to ear as she asked that silly question.


"Well, I am sure that a pretty girl like you can come up with something," I replied.


"Will you help?"


"I might be tempted to make a contribution to this worthy cause. It really depends on how enthusiastic you are the next time we go to bed."


"I am always enthusiastic with you," she replied, coyly.


"Will you say that after I have tanned your backside properly this time?"


"Nooooo, why do you want to do that? What have a I done?"


"You haven't done anything, but your mother did.


"Well, then you should spank her, said Eva, with a nice tough of daughterly duty I thought.


"Naah, she's too fat. Besides, I don't want to fuck her, I want to fuck you - after I have blistered your backside."


"This isn't fair."


"Life is not fair. Shall we go to a hotel?"


"If you insist."


"I do," I said, and off we went.


To be concluded.

Eva, Part Three

Once at the hotel, Eva excused herself and vanished off into the bathroom to do what women take such an interminably long time in doing. I amused myself by switching on the TV and flipping through to channel 13, of course, which is always the porn channel in those hotels. I can remember watching two girls going at one another and wondering why the lesbians that you get in the videos are always such a turn on, whereas the rug munchers that you see in real life are always grotesque lumps of blubber?

I was in that speculative frame of mind when Eva walked out of the bathroom, stark naked except for a pair of frilly panties. Ever the gentleman I switched off the television and turned my full attention to the vision of 18-year old loveliness that was arrayed before me.

She was keen to be admired, yet shy at the same time. I noticed that she cupped her left breast with her hand and I was curious to know what lay behind that gesture. I indicated to her to come and sit on my knee, and once she was in position I gently lowered her hand to expose both breasts to my gaze. That was when I saw the reason why she had kept her hand over the left puppy: she had a small tattoo of a butterfly on it. 

"When did you get this done?" I asked the question as gently as I could, as I could see that Eva was unsettled by my gaze on her artwork.

"About three years ago."

"What did your daddy say when he found out?"

Eva declined to answer, so I patted her twice on the rump, and then I asked the question again, but with an edge to my voice that made Eva bite her lip nervously.

"What did your father do?" I gave her another pat, or rather I gave her a smack, not too hard, but hard enough to let her know that an answer was required.

"What you just did," she replied, very quietly, with her head hanging low so that her hair fell over her face and obscured my view. I brushed the hair out of the was and saw that she was blushing prettily. I decided to press home this unexpected advantage.

"He gave you a spanking, didn't he?" There was no immediate answer to my simple question but two very firm smacks had her nodding vigorously. "Because you are a good girl who let him down by behaving like a cheap little minger," I went on, and this time the nods came thick and fast without the need for any assistance from my hand.

"That's what my daddy said," Eva moaned, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. "He said that I had let him down."

"And you had, and that is why he bent you across his knee," I said firmly. "And that is why I am going to put you over mine. Because I don't want a cheap little whore, either."

I was expecting a protest at those words but Eva did not say a word. Neither did she protest as I flipped her face down over my knee and peeled her panties down to leave them hanging shamefully at her knees.

"Now then, young lady. You know why you are going to have your bottom smacked today," I said, my hand resting in a proprietorial manner on the lush rump that I was shortly to begin correcting.

Eva did not reply, and neither did she try to protect her soon to be smacked bottom. As I raised my hand above my head she clenched her buttock cheeks instinctively, so I waited for a second for them to relax before bringing my hand down in the centre of the ripe young orb.

As I lifted my hand again I saw the red handprint that I had left on her buttock cheeks and I was secretly pleased that I was spanking an ethnic European that day as they do tend to redden in a most delightful way when undergoing correction. For her part, Eva gasped as she felt my hand leave her bottom as she knew that another smack was on its way, but other than that she made no sound.

I was  not angry at the girl so I did not spank her very hard. I contented myself with twelve or so good smacks, well laid on, obviously, otherwise there is no point in spanking a female, but I did not subject her to a genuine punishment spanking.

At the end I rested my hand on the bottom that I had just reddened, and then I stroked it gently. Eva turned her tear streaked face to look at me pleadingly, as she mutely begged me with her eyes not to spank her any more.

I picked her up and held her in my arms for a moment, and then I kissed her on the lips. Her arms went around my neck and she held me tightly. Then I put her on her back, and pulled her panties completely off her legs. The last thing to do was strip off all my clothes which I did in double quick time before climbing into bed next to her.

By God that girl was ripe for my cock! I could tell that nobody had managed to put any whelps through her from the tightness of her rich juicy pussy as my cock drove its way deep into her. I paused for a moment with my sword hard up its hilt in her firm flesh and then I pulled it out before driving it home again slowly and inexorably.

Eva rolled her head form side to side as the fucking proceeded. Her eyes were closed and I remember that way that she pursed her lips as the cock thrust its way inside her pussy. She tried clenching her muscles and that only excited me more because then I had to really push my meat inside her, make her take the cock to my full and complete satisfaction.

She pushed against my shoulders with her hands and I took that as my cue to grab her wrists and hold them down above her head. Eva tried to wriggle to avoid the cock that was now pounding its way inside her harder and faster with every downward stroke, but we both knew that she wanted to be overcome and that was what exactly what happened.

As my speed increased to the killing velocity Eva opened her mouth and and let out a cry from deep within her as she sensed that I was soon to lose control completely. She began to thrust her hips upwards in time with my thrusts and as that happened I sensed the cock muscles opening all together and the roaring torrent of come juice begin it irresistible ride to the surface, to spill out and flood into Eva's body. I remember wondering if she was on the pill, and then I stopped thinking about anything else other that the primordial need to shoot my load as deep into the woman's body as I could.

We lay there in the usual post-copulatory heap, with Eva gently stroking my hair as I ran my tongue along my teeth to check is any of them had worked loose from that shattering climax.

"I can't wait to tell mummy about you, and how you are going to help me," I heard her say form somewhere underneath me.

I merely grunted by way of reply.

To be continued