That Hit the Spot

Here's what happened last weekend with the new hairbrush I told you about here.

I presented the bamboo stimulating hairbrush to Ron and waited for his reaction.

"We already have one," he observed.

"No we don't, I explained. (Actually, we have three brushes, not one.) "The one we have is round and has bristles. This one's square and has, um, points."

"I can't get the wrapper off," Ron grumbled, but I decided he was stalling. Some men just can't adapt to something new.

As I removed the cardboard sleeve I explained, "This brush has two sides, for two different sensations. Did you know that some paddles have sandpaper on one side?"

"Like the ping pong paddle?"

"No, that's rubber." I picked it up from out toybox and held it up. "It's only the beginner paddle. Maybe the expert model has sandpaper." (Note to self: check out sporting goods store for expert paddles.)

Ron examined both sides of the brush while I put the ping pong paddle away, prepared myself, and got into position. I was bending over the end of the bed when the flat side of the brush connected with my bare bottom - hard!

"Ow! Take it easy!" I whined.

The swats continued at slightly less intensity.

"I don't know what you're complaining about. You like this, don't you?" Ron asked.

"Haven't you ever heard of a warmup?"

"This is a warmup," Ron explained, then continued, "and it's over" and he stepped up the pace and the force of impact. Then he paused. I waited, then felt a dull, thuddy, not at all painful series of blows. He was using the pointy side of brush with all those stimulating pegs.

"Ooh, that feels strange. Try rubbing my bottom with it." Ron did, and that felt very nice indeed. This brush had been a wise investment,  I thought to myself. But all too soon, it was time for the other side again.

The brush attacked my sit spots again and again. I shuffled my feet and wiggled but maintained position, vocally expressed my displeasure. Ron kept alternating the sides of the brush, sometimes whacking with the pointy side and other times rubbing my increasingly aching backside. When he finally finished and I was allowed to stand, I noticed he was panting from exertion. The brush had cardiovascular benefits for both of us.

I examined my red bottom in the mirror and frowned in a combination of mock displeasure and real pain.

"It hurts," I whined.

Ron grinned and hugged me. "That hit the spot."

The new hairbrush is a keeper!