This short story is an entry in the 2001 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: Adult
Beware of Turn-offs
By
Valerie Meilong <VMeilong1@excite.com>
Ever had the problem of turn-offs?
Turn-offs? No, not in connection with roadways. No, a turnoff is the opposite of a turn-on, and not quite the same as seeing your sexy bride in curlers.
The first time it happened was in London, in our one-room bed-sit. It had a two-burner stove in one corner, a washbowl that was a bowl, two armchairs, and a bed. - vital to a four months married couple like us. I'd got home about 5.40, randy as hell, of course, and I leaped at her. The radio, sitting on the stove, was playing gently. Foolishly, I hadn't turned it off. We were bonking beautifully, rabbits would have approved, when somehow the tune on the radio penetrated my fervent brain. It was a golden oldie, a real bouncy tune. "There ain't nobody here but us chickens," it went. Remember it? I listened, fascinated. I also went down like a puncture in a model T Ford tyre. My wife was not amused. We had our first serious spat. It took three days, and a bunch of roses to bring her round
The second time, was about six months later. We had now progressed to a larger bed-sit with a four-burner stove, AND a TV. Luxury. We were hardly using the bed. (Notice the heavy emphasis on the word hardly. Joke. Geddit?)
Anyway, we were heavily doing it when she farted. Not a big fart, mind you, but a neat little delicate lady-like plop. But it struck me as funny, and I started giggling. I couldn't stop. I doubled up with laughter, and deflated. That caused our second serious spat. Wow! I still have the scars.
I smoothed that one over with sweet-talk, and a new dress, and married life proceeded happily again. Along comes our first wedding anniversary. With help from our respective parents, we went to Paris for a weekend. It was a nice hotel, no elevator, and the bathroom was only one floor away from our room. "At least it's inside," said my wife.
By this time, we were into spanking before sex, and she had got used to my waking up with a huge boner. So that morning, I'd woken up, given her the most delicious consensual spanking, and we were back in bed bonking away. It was a delightful day. The sun was shining fit to bust. We had the French windows wide open, and the honking of the little horns, and the birdies' chirruping, floated in romantically. Gradually I became aware of American voices from the room above, and that they were raised in anger. The suddenly, clear as a bell came, "D'ya wanna know what a dumb American is? D'YA WANNA KNOW WHAT A DUMB AMERICAN IS? A dumb American is a guy that brings his wife on a business trip to Paris!" I giggled. And, of course, I came down like the Mir. Whoosh!
Two turn-offs my wife could stand, but three, no way. The divorce will be finalised next month.
The End
© Copyright Summer, 2001
This document may contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** This story is for entertainment purposes only, and it does not necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author. All characters are fictional and any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is purely coincidental. The Copyright of this story is held by ESP Publishing Ltd., Beijing, China. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via an electronic medium such as the Internet is permitted as long as the text is not modified, and the name of the author and this copyright notice is clearly included. Any other form of publication is expressly forbidden unless authorized in writing by ESP Publishing Ltd.
Reviews
Molly B <mollyb(at)newsguy(dot)com>
This story quite successfully creates a few interesting vignettes. Some readers will doubtlessly have more sympathy for the narrator and find him more amusing than I did. What can I say? He just isn't my type.
Mija <mijita(at)newsguy(dot)com>
This story reminds me of sex jokes from the 1970s of the sort Playboy might have run. The spanking in it feels incidental to the punch line. However, the images are quite vivid.