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The word ‘horny’ triggering an impish smile on his face even as he nervously bit his lip. His eyes bulged with the bulge that was forming in his tight green y-fronts. He pulled back the elastic of the pants to savour the sight. His knees trembled as he took in the beautiful sight held within. He looked around wondering what he was to do. He had an urge to photograph it! To stand at the window and shout at all the neighbourhood to come and view it! Instead, he opted to savour the moment for himself, looking at himself in the mirrors and marvelling. Then with his first stiffy, he had started to rub the stretched fabric of his pants initially with dubious care and ministrations. He felt a surging urge to explode, to yelp aloud, to thrust and to rub and to pet and to squeeze his organ. His organ that had blossomed and engorged into a living python. It felt like the centre of his being and yet a separate entity to his body yet one that controlled all of his responses. Thusly he had. I felt the sting, the incredible sting, of the paddle’s bite as it repeatedly made contact with my bottom. Over and over, one cheek to the another and then low-center — my ‘sit spot’ as I’d seen it called on the internet.I guess that she liked the sound of my howling as she began to ‘work’ on this sit spot. She just kept swatting the same place — time and again, one swat nearly over-lapping the previous sting.My mind suddenly traveled back in time to my senior year in high school. I’d gone to Florida with some friends on spring break and drunk too much beer, falling asleep on the beach. The sun had rapidly par-broiled my body, leaving a burn that required but a light touch to be painful. That was what my bottom already felt like.But, she wasn’t touching it lightly. She was punishing it with maybe one swat every couple of seconds, each swat as vigorous as the last, with a promise of another, equally-severe swat to follow.I slowly became aware that she’d stopped paddling. I continued to.
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