I awakened from my nap when Chloe returned from tennis.
“So you jacked off on Lisa Markowitz’s tits,” Chloe announced as I opened my eyes.
Lying would have been useless at this point.
“Most of it went on her face,” I clarified.
Chloe had tried to sound serious and angry but my response caused her to chuckle ever so slightly.
“And you think that this is no big deal?” Chloe tried to regain a serious tone.
“I know,” I admitted. “It was an awkward situation. After Saul‘s bail hearing, she begged for me to fuck her. I said no. She begged to suck my cock. I said no. Finally, she suggested that I jack off on her tits. We both decided that this was just masturbation and would not count as cheating.“
“I suppose that technically, you are correct,” Chloe mused. “It is a violation of legal ethics, however, that you would masturbate on the tits of your legal client, Mr. Markowitz’s wife. Don’t worry, honey. I won’t turn you into the Bar Association. Admittedly, the Bar sanction might be mild, but it would be quite embarrassing to have to defend yourself at a Bar hearing.”
“Excellent point, counselor,” I responded. I was relieved that the discussion of my marital transgression had evolved into a rather academic discussion about legal ethics. It made me appreciate my smart and sexy wife all the more.
“So, who did you hear this from?” I had to ask.
“Kylie,” Chloe responded. “Kylie ran into Ellen at Whole Foods a little after noon today. Ellen ran up to her all excited and told her that she walked into Lisa‘s house on her way to go grocery shopping this morning and saw Lisa’s face and tits covered with your cum. Ellen said it was so hot that she had to use her Rabbit in her car before going to the store.”
“Ellen keeps a Rabbit in her car?” I asked incredulously.
“You know so little about women’s lives,” Chloe laughed.
There was a pause. I sat up in bed. Chloe sat in the armchair in the corner. Her tone became more serious.
“So, after tennis, the ladies and I talked. We all sort of agreed that jacking off on Lisa Markowitz’s tits did not exactly meet the definition of ‘cheating’; however, we all agreed that a husband’s semen is arguably the property of the man’s wife. You may recall the English case law we learned in our Contracts course: Tottenham vs. Tottenham, I believe, established that precedent.”
I acknowledged her recollection of one of the more obscure cases from our first year of law school.
“In any case,” Chloe continued, “your actions today suggest that you have a surplus of semen that needs to be drained on a more regular basis.”
“So, three times a week?” I offered.
“No,” Chloe interjected, “twice a day for the next month — to completion. Once in the morning, once in the evening for the next 28 days and nights – starting tonight.”
“That’s a lot,” I begged.
“You told me you jacked off twice a day every day when you were in high school,” Chloe argued.
“I was sixteen years old then; things were different,” I countered.
“Perhaps,” Chloe added. “I think you might be able to come through twice a day if you were offered the proper incentive.”
I sat dumbfounded.
“The girls all agreed that I deserved a regular twice-a-day fucking as compensation for your little misdemeanor. That would at least guarantee that you wouldn’t be spilling your seed elsewhere. Lurleen Brown had an interesting offer. She explained that her husband Demarcus enjoyed his taste of married white pussy so much after our evening with Eliza Patrick (refer to Lesson Learned Parts 7 and 8 for a refresher) that she offered Demarcus’ services for the days when you are unable to perform.”
“What!” I shouted in disbelief.
“Lurleen even gave me Demarcus’ cell phone number—I’ve got it on speed dial,” Chloe explained matter-of-factly. “So, you give it to me twice a day for the next twenty-eight days, or I invite Demarcus over if you need a rest.”
“N…N…No!” I stammered.
“That’s the deal, Rob,” Chloe continued. “You come through for me or you and Demarcus will get to be ‘fuck brothers’—just’ like Bart claims to be a fuck brother of Jon Bon Jovi because he said he fucked a nurse who said she once fucked Jon Bon Jovi.
“Of course, I guess, Demarcus would be the big brother…” Chloe added with a sly smile.
“Once a day?” I pleaded.
“Once a day for you and once a day for Demarcus?” Chloe countered.
“No, OK, I can do it. Twice a day. We don’t need to get Demarcus involved,” I asserted.
“We will see, won’t we?” Chloe smiled and shrugged as she peeled off her tennis clothes and strode to the shower, parading her athletic body before me. “Starting tonight.”
—-
When Chloe entered the shower, I texted Ellen.
Rob: Hey, is Jay home? I don’t have his phone number in my contacts.
Ellen: No, he took the kids to his parents for a few hours.
Rob: Cool, I’ll check with him later. Can you send me his #
Ellen: Sure 206-874-2122
Rob: Thx
“Chloe, I’m going to run some errands. I’ll be back in a little while,” I shouted to Chloe, who was getting out of the shower.
“OK,” Chloe answered. “I trust you will have something left in you after this morning’s little mistake.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” I reassured her.
—-
I drove to CVS and purchased a 16oz bottle of aloe vera gel along with an appropriately sized gift box and an elegant bow. In the car, I placed the bottle in the box and attached the bow. I then drove to Ellen and Jay’s home and rang the doorbell.
—-
Ellen answered the door wearing loose-fitting sweatpants and a t-shirt.
“Uh, hi Rob,” she greeted me with a degree of apprehension but perhaps also a degree of excitement.
“I brought you a gift,” I announced as I presented the package to her.
“Uh, thanks, Rob,” Ellen stammered a bit, “for me? Come in.”
I entered the foyer and handed her the box. “Open it,” I urged.
Ellen opened the box and inspected the contents. “Uh, aloe vera gel?” She questioned.
“Yes,” I explained, “for later.”
Ellen looked down at her feet, knowing where we were heading.
“I’m sorry, Rob. I couldn’t keep something that hot to myself,” Ellen apologized.
“You know what happens to girls who gossip?” I asked rhetorically.
She stood frozen for a moment.
“So are you going to lower those sweatpants or am I going to have to do it?” I demanded.
Ellen looked me in the eye and untied the drawstring on her sweatpants. Holding them up by the waistband, she marched toward the dining room table, turned an armless chair toward the center of the room, and motioned for me to be seated. I followed and sat down. After I was seated, Ellen stepped out of her sweatpants. She must have been expecting my visit because she wore no panties. With her trimmed bush at my eye level, she turned ninety degrees and positioned herself over my left thigh with her rounded backside in the perfect position for her spanking. I placed my left hand on her back, stabilized her legs with my right leg, gently placed my right hand on her right butt cheek, and asked, “Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Ellen responded meekly.
A volley of hard slaps followed…
CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK…
…echoing through the room simultaneously, accompanied by Ellen’s cries of:
OW OW OW OW OUCH OW OW OOOW ACH OW OUCH OW OW
ACH OW OUCH OW OW OUCH OW
For a full 30 seconds, I landed about 40 very hard and very painful spanks.
I stopped and allowed Ellen to stand. Tears in her eyes, she stood before me, vigorously rubbing her spanked cheeks, beaver fully exposed.
I too stood up and reached for my belt buckle. For a moment she started to smile. Her smile turned to a frown, however, when she saw me fully remove the belt from my pants and fold it in half. She now realized I was not done with her. I grabbed her waist and delivered five solid belt swats at her butt and upper legs.
WHOOSH … CRACK
OW
WHOOSH … CRACK
OW
WHOOSH … CRACK
OW OW
WHOOSH … CRACK
OW OW OW
WHOOSH … CRACK
OW OW OW OW
As she rubbed her bottom and tears poured from her eyes, I gathered some ice cubes from the freezer and applied them to her spanked bottom. The ice melted instantly in contact with her hot flesh. I made four additional trips to the freezer for ice as the melted water pooled on the kitchen floor. I then gently dried her wet skin with a dish towel and the floor with a bath towel. When her bottom and the floor were dry, I walked across the room and opened the bottle of aloe vera gel.
“Turn around and bend over,” I instructed. She complied. I poured a generous portion of the gel on my right hand and liberally applied it to her rear end. There was no evidence of bruising.
“The swelling will be better in a day or so. Take 800 mg of ibuprofen every 6 hours for the next two days.” I advised.
“Lesson learned?” I enquired.
“OW, yes,” Ellen volunteered, although now I noticed that, while her right hand continued to rub her spanked bottom, her left hand had migrated to massage her mons pubis—which had not been touched by my hand nor my belt.
Ellen stepped back into her sweatpants. I returned my belt to my pants.
“See ya, girl,” I offered as I walked toward the door, giving her a gentle half-swat on her clothed backside as I departed. She flinched a little as I drew my hand back but seemed relieved when the swat turned out to be more like a caress.
I got back in my car and headed home, picking up an artisanal pizza for dinner at Whole Foods.
—-
After dinner, in bed that night, Chloe asked, “So, are you ready to perform?”
“Oh yes,” I responded. The erotic thrill of delivering Ellen’s spanking put me over the edge quickly.
“Good job, Rob,” Chloe complimented. “I guess Lisa Markowitz didn’t get all your jizz today.”
“Nope,” I proudly agreed.
“Well, you get your rest because you’re going to have to perform again in a few hours tomorrow morning,” Chloe advised. “Demarcus said he would keep his phone close by if I needed to call on him…”
I sighed, closed my eyes, and prayed for a sexy dream to give me some wood in the morning.
