Reesa

I'm really excited about these next two weeks of posts. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy posting them. This post of Reesa's is a favorite of mine because it's just pure fun!!! I loved reading it again. It makes me smile.



Enjoy!!

Friday, April 06, 2007

#3: History of Spanking Experiences

#3 was the brother of the cousin in Spanking Experience #2... who knows, maybe it was genetic?

Anyway I was 16 and a total brat (not my fault as my parents never punished us - hey, sounds like a good excuse to me)!

We were visiting said cousins 2000 miles from home. "D" (not my husband D but his name started with D, all the same) and I were walking to the store. As my goal in life was to pester all males my age and over until they either paid me back or refused to be seen with me, I began to step off the curb every now and then. This brought no attention, so I began to walk ON the road instead of the sidewalk. This brought only a curious glance. So, I began to walk down the MIDDLE of the road instead the side of the road.

This brought, "Hey, dumbass, what do you think this sidewalk's for?" or something similar to that.

At last! He noticed I was doing something dangerous! Yippee! (I'm pretty sure that these were my exact thoughts at the time.) Of course, I paid no attention whatsoever to him. A car came along, and I thoughtfully moved to one side of the road. The next car came from behind me, and I (again) thoughtfully moved to the other side of the road. This one honked. What fun!

Then I got the bright idea to stand in the middle of the road and wait for a car to come. D must have thought I was crossing the road (the store was on the other side further up) because he made no move or comment when I started across the road (no cars coming). He followed me, I let him pass, and then I stopped right in the middle. It took him a minute to realize I hadn't continued across the road behind him.

I remember the look of astonishment on his face as he turned around to talk to me and saw me still in the road. I was grinning at him and a car was coming around the corner, rather, it was bearing down on me at a rapid pace, and I heard brakes squeal as I sprinted out of the way and onto the safety of the sidewalk again.

Now, in all of my previous experience with doing dangerous things to elicit like responses, no one had EVER responded the way I thought they should. So, it was with complete surprise that I noticed D running toward me. I ran. Can't make it easy on them, can we?

I ran and ran until I was out of breath, finally stopping, panting, in the middle of a grass covered vacant lot. No sooner had I stopped then I was tackled by D. Literally tackled, as in sacking a quarterback. I was taken completely by surprise, but managed to cushion the fall with both forearms (which were bruised for days afterward). He landed on top of me, immediately flipped me over and started smacking my bottom, hard. I was so surprised that I just lay there for a moment, soaking it all in. Then, I decided that I should at least display a token protest (while trying to hide my enormous grin), so I began to struggle. He was much bigger than me, so this didn't deter him by any means, in fact, he began to hit me harder. Then it started to hurt. Even through my denim jeans. So I bit his arm. This didn't stop him, either. In fact, he actually yelled a curse word (whimpy men). Unfortunately, that wasn't his only reaction. Then next one was to jerk my jeans down to my thighs. Eeewww! This was WAY too "kissing cousins" for me, so now I was fighting not to stop the punishment, but to keep him from seeing my brand-new purple bikini panties! (Every time I wore those for years afterward, this memory always came to mind - think Pavlov.)

I think I yelled "pervert" at him a bit too loud, because he was now whaling the tar out of me, to put it in a nice, southern expression. This produced a lot more curse words out of me, but did nothing to stop him. Although the pain really wasn't beyond my tolerance level, I was ready to do anything to cover up my exposed panties, so I started apologizing. Then I begged. Then I started crying. When he finally let me up, tears were streaming down my face as I tugged my jeans back up and glanced up at the road. Several people were standing on the sidewalk about a hundred feet away, staring at us. I did the only thing I could do. I took off running toward grandma's house.

I gave D dirty looks for the next few days, and every time, he'd just raise his hand, palm side forward. I'd stick out my tongue at him and go the other way. By the end of the week, though, we were friends again. The only reason I never goaded him into spanking me again, was the thought of him seeing my entire wardrobe of underwear. Now, why couldn't this have been a boyfriend spanking me?