Speculation

The other evening Ron and I were discussing our neighbours and speculating on the nature of their relationship. They are a middle-aged couple I'll call Jerry and Donna. He is the head of a local industry, while she was a stay at home mom until the last child left the nest. Then Donna went to care her aging parents, whom she felt needed her to be nearby. We thought this was going to be a temporary arrangement, but after a few months we learned that Donna was attending college near her parents' home. Three years later she became a teacher at the college, and it seems she only visits her parents on weekends. So much for them needing her help 24/7 as we had thought.

Where does this leave Jerry? Pretty much on his own. Last year he had business dealings at a location near Donna, and moved in with her. Now he's back home, and we are wondering what will happen next. Will Jerry sell the house next door and permanently relocate to Donna's city? Or will they continue to live apart?

Ron thought that Jerry was being a wuss and should step up to the plate and order his wife back home.

"Who do you think wears the pants in that family?" he asked me.

"I think Donna has the upper hand," I replied.

"You mean spanking?" Ron doesn't miss a trick, and although I hadn't been thinking along those lines at all, I picked up on his implication.

"Well, yes. What do you think?"

"Okay, so who do you think does the spanking - Jerry or Donna?" Ron was obviously enjoying the way this conversation was headed.

I paused to consider. "Oh, I think it's Donna," I said.

"I think so too."

"Well, there's one way to find out. She's coming home in a couple of weeks, so we'll listen for telltale sounds."

Ron agreed it was a plan, and we both had a good chuckle over what we might hear while sitting on the patio. We'll be sure to keep the windows open, just in case.

Walkies

Ron and I go for a walk together as often as we can, weather permitting. It's good exercise, and gives us a chance to explore our neighbourhood and to observe things that we would otherwise miss while driving past. Ron always carries a walking stick in case we are approached by an agressive dog. City by-laws don't permit dogs to run loose, but some people let them do so anyway, so it's best to be prepared.

But Ron finds the cane...er, walking stick, handy in other ways. For example, when I have to stop and tie my shoelace (curse those round laces; I must replace them with flat ones) I sometimes feel a sharp tap on my bottom, urging me to hurry so we can resume walking. While crossing the road, I may step in front of him, cutting him off, and he registers his displeasure with a smack of the cane on my posterior. Or if I'm lagging behind, he will use the stick as motivation to get a move on.

What pleases me most is that he's doing this where people can see. Not that there are many people outside in the cold weather, except for a few other walkers. But I like to think that there is someone sitting at a window, observing the passers-by, who sees a man swatting a woman on the backside, and then sees the woman laugh. And the watcher will frown or smile at what he has seen.

Do They or Don't They?

We are very fortunate to have quiet neighbours, but one evening in late spring I heard a commotion coming from inside the house next door. The weather was warm, the windows were open, and the voices were loud and angry.

Everyone has moments like that, and when I told Ron, he quipped something about Mary needing a good spanking.

"Oh? Why do you assume Mary is at fault? Maybe Mike's in a bad mood and he's taking it out on her."

We couldn't resolve the question of who was in the wrong, but Ron mentioned the couple every so often over the next few weeks. I didn't overhear any more disagreements whenever I was in the back yard.

Last night I decided to humour my husband and agree with his assumption, so I commented that Mike and Mary seemed to be getting along just fine now "since Mike gave Mary that spanking."

But Ron unexpectedly took the other side. "No," he corrected me, "it was the other way around."

A F/m household on the other side of the fence? Or a husband who likes to take the opposite side of whatever view I take? Either way, we shared a good laugh.

Knock, Knock

Some weekends are pretty busy. On Saturday we shopped for groceries, did some housework, and I helped Ron connect an new electrical contraption to the TV. Then on Sunday we had to disconnect the contraption because it didn't work as expected, and get the TV and assorted accessories back into working order before the football game started. We were also planning an early dinner that day because I would be going out for the evening.

While I was putting in another load of laundry, Ron suggested we go upstairs for a while. That sounded like just the kind of break I needed, and much more fun than laundry! We shut the dogs in their crates and headed up to the bedroom.

Once there, we undressed, climbed into bed, and began to make the most of our limited time. We kissed passionately, and Ron's hands slowly crept down my back until they came to rest on my bottom. I held my breath in anticipation as he rubbed and squeezed my cheeks. I didn't have to wait long. The first slap always takes my breath away, and the second wasn't far behind. After giving me a few swats, Ron turned me over onto my tummy so he could do a better job of reddening my bottom. Ouch! It must have been the cold weather that had made my cheeks so sensitive.

Ron stopped and reached for an implement to make the job easier for him. I glanced up to see what he had chosen. It was "Black Beauty", the black leather paddle. He hadn't used it more than a time or two, and I had forgotten what a sting it could induce. I squeaked involuntarily each time it connected, and flinched as I felt it burn. It was so good, I wanted all he could give me.

I suddenly came back to earth as the dogs erupted in a frenzy of barks and yelps. That could only mean one thing. Someone was knocking on the front door.

"Who's that?" Ron grumbled, as he put Black Beauty down.

I had a pretty good idea. We were keeping an eye on our neighbour's house for a few days, and she was due back sometime that day.

"It's Patty. She's come for her key."

"What'll we do?"

"Ignore her and she'll go away." I was anxious to get back to the job at hand.
The dogs eventually quieted down, and Ron remembered he had some unfinished business with my backside. A few hard swats later, the dogs' voices again almost drowned out the sound of leather meeting flesh.

"She's still there. She knows we're here." Ron stopped again. "This isn't going to work." He was clearly uncomfortable and I was a bit flustered. We waited until all was quiet once more, then tried a third time. But we were both listening for other sounds in between swats. In view of our time constraints, we decided to call it a day.

As we dressed, I took a quick peek in the mirror. My tingling bottom was a dark shade of red. Ron fretted about what to do next.

"This is so embarrassing. What do we say to her? I suppose we could've been out for a walk," he suggested.

"I'm sure she couldn't hear us, or know what we were doing," I soothed. "A walk without the dogs? I don't think so. But we could have been out. We might have been feeding Martin's cat." As it happened, Martin--our neighbour on the other side--was also away for a few days and we were minding his house as well, so it was quite plausible.

"Okay, that's what we were doing." Ron finished dressing and turned to me. "And I tell you what. Tomorrow morning, before you leave for work..." Was he going to suggest an early morning spanking? Some pre-commute cuddling? I held my breath.

"Take Patty's key over to her house."

Oh.

"Sure, I'll do that."

"And tell her we were feeding Martin's cat."

"If it comes up. You know, this doesn't happen very often. Do you remember the last time we were interrupted?" I gave Ron a quick hug. "And I want a repeat performance with that black strap before too long. It hurts so much. I like that."
Even though the spanking hadn't been long, my bottom was quite sore, so I couldn't complain. I was performing in a concert that evening, and when I wasn't standing, had only a hard wooden bench to sit on. Each time I sat down, I felt the burn, and couldn't help smiling at our earlier predicament. These things happen.

To make a long story short, the next day all keys were returned, all neighbours were present and accounted for, and we had an early night and finished what we had started the day before. Ron and I both agreed that it was much nicer when we weren't being interrupted.

One Hand Clapping

I like noisy spankings, but I think using this might really disturb the neighbours.