Dear Penthouse forum,
I have enjoyed reading your letters for many years. I have often suspected that some of the stories are “made up.“ I never imagined that I would have a sexy experience like this one that I have the opportunity to share with you.
My husband Blake is a tall, strong sexy man. We have been married for over twenty years but for the last ten years, our sex life has calmed dramatically. While I tell my girlfriends that he fucks me twice a week, in reality it’s more like twice a year. Last month, however, something happened that has supercharged our sex life, and I must share it.
Without going into too much detail, I wrongly violated the confidence of a friend and, as a result, earned a hard paddle spanking on my bare backside in front of a group of friends. Blake sat and watched. The paddling hurt far more than I had expected, and I was in tears when it was finished. After it was done, I looked up and saw my husband Blake, smiling and laughing. I charged at him with my jeans and panties still around my knees and started punching him. At the time, it seemed like a huge mistake because he grabbed me by the wrist, threw me over his knee and must have delivered forty hard hand spanks onto my already severely paddled ass. He is a former Division One hockey player with heavy calloused hands. The pain was excruciating! He then marched me to the car, pants still not covering my ass, and drove me home. When we got home, he carried me to the bedroom, pulled down his own trousers, positioned me on all fours and delivered the fucking of my life. The thrusts of his cock combined with the pain in my ass (no pun intended) made me cum again and again and again.
We both realized we had discovered the spark to bring us back together as a couple.
On Monday, he informed his team at work that he would be taking the following week off. He booked us for five days at an all-inclusive resort in Los Cabos. He bought me a sexy thong bikini which showed off all of my ass cheeks.
My ass has been described as “regal“ by many. It is not small and perky, but it is firm with very little cellulite and prominent underlying musculature. Truthfully, it is a butt that many women would be proud to sport. I have been told that my butt is nicely complemented by my 34C breasts and swimmer shoulders – I swim regularly on adult swim team in my community.
After we arrived at the resort in the afternoon and checked into our room, Blake instructed me to change into my thong. He then took me over his knee and delivered a brisk 10 spanks to each of my ass cheeks. I looked in the mirror and they were a bright red.
Of course this was followed by a powerful fucking. His fat cock filled my willing wet pussy while his swinging balls tickled my clit. He roared like a lion when he came and I howled like a hyena.
He then took me by the hand, and we walked down to the pool, where he paraded me back and forth in front of the other hotel guests. There had to have been no doubt in anyone’s mind that my ass had been spanked. Of course, I also exuded a satisfied “freshly fucked” look. Most of the women looked terrified, most of the men looked thrilled, but some of the women clearly looked at me with a touch of envy. I’m sure if they had looked closely, they would have noticed a trickle of Blake’s voluminous cum running down my keg.
At dinner that night, Blake asked the waiter for an extra cushion for my chair explaining, “Her bottom is a little sore.”
The three other couples at the table, who had all seen me paraded around the pool in my thong, understood why I needed the extra seat padding.
Pierre and Blanche, a French couple to my right smiled as I sat.
“Il semble qu’elle a reçu une bonne fessée,” Blanche commented to Pierre.
“Tres bien fait – very well done,” Pierre complimented Blake.
Barclay, an English gentleman to Blake’s left, added “Louise and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing your wife’s spanked bottom on parade at the pool this afternoon.”
Louise nodded approvingly and shared: “Oh sometimes I put up a fuss when Barkley tosses me over his knee and gives my rear end a thrashing but he always follows with a good shagging so the discomfort is well mitigated by the ensuing pleasure.”
Pierre, Blanche, Barkley, Louise, Blake and I all smiled and nodded in agreement.
Karen and Henry, a couple from Massachusetts, sat uncomfortably across the table from us. We learned that Karen was a sociology professor at Tufts University and Henry was a Family Practice physician in Newton. They had a seven-year-old daughter staying with her parents while they relaxed for a few days in Mexico.
After dinner, Henry approached us while Karen was ordering a drink at the bar.
“Do you actually – did he actually spank you?” Henry addressed both of us.
“Oh yes,” I answered, “and then I got one of the best fuckings of my life. Looking out our hotel window at the sea with Blake hammering my sore ass … ah … I squirted, came twice and drenched the duvet cover!” I shared.
Henry looked terrified and excited at the same time. Karen’s voice could be heard from across the room.
“I said WITHOUT salt!” Karen shouted to the young bartender who quickly worked to replace her top-shelf margarita – without salt.
When Karen returned to join us, she pronounced: “With what they charge us here, you would think that the bartenders would understand English!” as she drank her cocktail.
The four of us: Karen, Henry, Blake and I sat drinking for almost 2 hours. Karen, about 40 years old, was a tenured professor specializing in gender studies. Her Harvard PhD dissertation “Dissolution of Patriarchal Hierarchy in Aboriginal Societies” had won her the prestigious Francoli Prize from the American Sociological Society. She explained that she was offered a non-tenured faculty position at Harvard but chose a tenured position at Tufts where she was appointed to the Lipschitz chair in Women’s Studies. She stood 5’4” with a pretty, if stern, face, A-cup breasts and a firm perky athletic ass consistent with her daily six-mile runs and twice-weekly tennis matches.
Henry, a thin bespectacled forty-year-old, was a graduate of Harvard College and Harvard Medical School before completing his Family Practice residency at the Deaconess Hospital. He seemed like a genuinely nice man and a caring husband.
The following morning around the pool I noticed that a few of the female guests demonstrated rose-tinted heinies. I pointed this out to Henry.
“Did they all get spanked?” he asked under his breath.
“I don’t know,” I responded. “You could ask them.”
“No,” Henry chuckled.
Karen joined us by the pool before lunch wearing a one-piece Speedo racing swimsuit. She jumped in the pool and swam a few laps before Henry suggested we all get lunch.
The lunch buffet included fresh shellfish, fruits and a wide selection of desserts. Blake and I thought it was excellent but Karen was not impressed.
“Self-service all-you-can-eat buffet? Really? I guess that’s the best they can do at this ‘all-inclusive’ resort,” Karen announced. “I guess you get what you pay for,” she added. “Ah, the barely upper middle-class life of a Family Practice physician..” she groaned.
“I like this place,” Blake interjected.
“Oh, it’s adequate,” Karen acknowledged. “Of course, Henry’s medical school roommate, who is a Neurosurgeon, and his wife stay at the Ritz with fresh meals delivered to tables with tablecloths,” she added.
Henry sat quietly and smiled.
I looked over and saw Blake flexing the fingers of his right hand.
That night, the hotel scheduled a traditional Mexican pig roast for the guests. A cover band played a bunch of Spanish language classics like La Bamba and Todo La Vida – a slow dance. Karen declined Henry’s offer to dance so I, with Blake’s encouragement, danced with Henry.
I guess I held him a little too close because, within 30 seconds or so, I felt an erection against my thigh. Not a massive one like Blake’s but a hard penis just the same. When he realized what had happened, Henry stepped back and started apologizing profusely.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he whispered.
“Henry, don’t worry,” I consoled him, “It’s no big deal.” I paused in a soft whisper and added, “I’m actually flattered.”
“It’s just been so long since Karen and I…” he whispered.
“Henry, it’s ok,” I reassured him.
After the dance was over, I turned to face Blake and Karen so that Henry could walk in the other direction to give him time for his cock to soften before returning to join us at the table.
In bed that night I told the “Henry’s boner” story to Blake.
“You mean that bitch isn’t even giving up the pussy while they are on a ‘romantic’ vacation?” Blake questioned.
“Apparently not,” I answered.
I couldn’t help feeling guilty about Henry and his sad little erection. Of course that night Blake brought me to climax after climax with his powerful tool before we fell asleep. We cuddled together in each other’s arms at the edge of the bed – a massive cold lake of semen and girl juices now occupied the center of our California king bed.
I noted that next time we will request two beds in our hotel room. One for sleeping and one for fucking.
The next day we all took a bus tour to visit some of the Aztec sites near Los Cabos. While riding on a big bus is a bit impersonal as a way to see the sites, our guide was informative, even if her English was heavily accented. Of course, Karen was full of complaints all day.
“So we’re riding on the ‘Grey Line’ with 80 other people, getting taken to giant tourist restaurants to eat, and we have to listen to a guide who barely speaks English,” Karen grumbled.
Blake’s hand and right arm began to twitch every time she spoke.
For our second to last night in Mexico, we all decided to go out into town to a local restaurant that everyone at the hotel said was great.
“At least we might be getting some good food for a change,” Karen announced at lunchtime.
Blake’s right hand, arm and shoulder twitched and tensed.
That evening, we all climbed into the hotel van for the twenty-five-minute drive into town to “La Falda Corta” or “The Short Skirt,” in English. The French couple Pierre and Blanche and the English couple Barkley and Louise joined us. The ladies all dressed nicely for the evening. Blanche, Louise and I wore evening dresses. Karen wore a pretty blouse with a short skirt and high heels which nicely displayed her athletic legs.
On the drive, Karen of course complained about the bumpy ride on the potholed road into town. I chuckled when I noticed the bulge in Blake’s trousers – either a result of the bumpy ride or the result of something special he had planned for the evening.
We arrived at “La Falda Corta” and were escorted to our table. A tray of margaritas was delivered to us as we sat down.
“I would like mine without salt,” Karen demanded.
The waiter retired a minute later with her “salt-free” margarita.
Chips, salsa and a large bowl of fresh guacamole was placed on the table.
After the margaritas were finished, Barkley announced: “Time for some tequila shots!”
8 shots of tequila were delivered to the table. Seven of us quickly downed ours. Karen sipped at hers and, apparently unsatisfied with the quality of the house brand, requested that the waiter bring her a shot of Patron Anejo. He obliged.
Pierre ordered a second round of shots after the first was finished. Seven “house brand” shots arrived along with one shot of Patron Anejo.
The roving Mariachi band was playing enthusiastically to a group of Mexican businessmen at the far side of the restaurant. The businessmen sang along with the traditional songs and appeared to be having a great time.
“Dammit Henry,” Karen shouted to her husband, “Why did you take me to this noisy joint? I can’t even think and I’m sure the food is no better than what we get at “La Michuacana” back home in Boston.
Everyone took a deep breath. We had all lost our patience with Professor Karen.
Finally, Blake spoke up. Addressing the group he announced:
“Did you know that the Mexican Constitution specifically states that if a man’s wife acts disrespectfully to him or his friends, he is authorized, by the Constitution, to spank her bare ass in public?”
Blake smiled and looked directly at Karen and Henry.
“Yeah, right – bullshit,” Karen shrugged dismissively.
“No, I’m serious,” insisted Blake.
Karen thought she would play along with this little joke. Turning to Henry, she commented, “I don’t think I need to worry about Henry spanking me.”
Blake continued, “The Constitution also states that a husband may authorize a friend or family member to deliver the spanking if he believes that they would perform the task more effectively.”
Karen offered a mocking sneer. She turned to Henry for support but his eyes were on Blake. Now Karen appeared a little nervous. She looked at Blake, who stared back without blinking. She searched the faces of Pierre, Blanche, Louise, Barkley and I for reassuring smiles but no one smiled back. She looked again at Henry. Henry simply nodded his head at Blake.
Blake stood up, walked toward Karen, grabbed her left wrist, stood her up, sat in her chair which he pulled away from the table with his foot and deposited her over his left knee, pinning her legs under his right leg. Her skirt-covered backside was perfectly positioned for what was to follow although Karen still believed, or at least wanted to believe, that this was all a joke.
“Seriously?” she stated as if she were actually in control of the situation.
Mustering his best high school Spanish, Blake called to the waiter:
“Camarero, discúlpame, puede usted traerme una copia de la Constitución mexicana?”
The waiter came back carrying a silver tray. From Karen’s perspective, not being able to see what lay on the tray, she thought the waiter was perhaps bringing a round of drinks.
The waiter lowered the tray to Blake’s eye level revealing not a round of tequila shots but a sturdy wooden hairbrush. Karen, after seeing the hairbrush in Blake’s strong hand still might have hoped it was a joke. Looking up now and seeing the smiles on the faces of Pierre, Blanche, Barkley, Louise and I, she might have falsely assumed this was all an elaborate ruse. Of course, it was not. Our smiles were in genuine enthusiastic joyful anticipation of what we were going to witness.
The Mariachi band approached our table and began to play.
“Suzanne, can you help me please?” asked Blake.
I jumped up with enthusiasm and gently raised Karen’s short skirt upwards to expose her black cotton panties. I then grasped the elastic of those same delicate panties and lowered them to her mid-thighs.
“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK,” shouted Karen as the first smack of the hairbrush landed on her bare ass.
Blanche turned to Pierre. « Je crois que nous allons voir les fesses rouges ce soir! »
Pierre laughed. « Bien sûr! »
“It’s about time I would say,” added Louise as Barkley nodded.
“OW,” yelled Karen.
Hard hairbrush spanks now landed on Karen’s bare, reddening ass, in time with the mariachi band’s drum.
“AY YAY YAY YAY, CANTA NO LLORE..”
SMACK SMACK
“OW OUCH OW,” hollered Karen.
SMACK SMACK SMACK
SMACK SMACK SMACK
SMACK SMACK SMACK
SMACK SMACK
The other patrons in the restaurant gathered and cheered as Blake performed as the band’s auxiliary rhythm section.
In total, about twenty spanks were delivered.
Karen stood up rubbing her sore backside. We were all chuckling at her performance of the spanking dance. Karen tried to pull up her panties but her ass was too sore. I stood up and advised her to ditch the panties, lower her skirt and go commando for the rest of the evening. I gave her a hug and reassured her that good things often follow a spanking.
“ I noticed that Henry was getting very excited watching you get spanked. I think he will have a good reward for you tonight when you get back to the hotel,” I shared.
I also handed her a little gift bag containing a cute little 2 piece thong bathing suit for her to wear at the pool the next day to show off her spanked backside.
The dinner was excellent. The waiters brought some pillows for Karen to sit on but she ultimately decided that it would be more comfortable to stand and eat. She praised the menu items effusively, “I have never had a better quesadilla in my life,” she pronounced. “We definitely all need to come back here next year!”
The following day, our last in Los Cabos, Karen wore her new swimsuit around the swimming pool with pride. Henry, a bit weak in the knees from the ball draining he enjoyed the prior evening, thanked Blake and I for “breaking the ice” (breaking the ass I would have said) with Karen.
The following morning we all headed to the airport. Karen and Henry flew back to Boston via Atlanta. Pierre and Blanche headed to Paris via JFK and Barkley and Louise to London via DFW.
“I am the keynote speaker at the American Sociological Society meeting in Seattle this coming April. Let’s all get together again!” Karen insisted.
Blake and I smiled and smiled and smiled.
Suzanne
