Code: m/f, cheat, cons, spank
Author: Simon_scarlet@yahoo.co.uk


Dont get me wrong. I love my husband  but sometimes, its kind of nice to have a weekend without him.
	So when he was sent to Philadelphia on business, I made the most of it. That Saturday, I got up late, lounging deliciously in my big, fluffy bed. It seemed so much larger and more luxurious without his dead weight taking up half of it. Then I had a long, leisurely breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes and syrup  and didnt have to make any for him, so mine were fluffy and delicious, right off the griddle. Finally, I took a long, hot shower  able to take all the time I wanted without him banging on the door, telling me to hurry up.
        By the time I emerged, all pink and pristine, I was feeling wonderfully relaxed. And despite thoroughly enjoying not having hubby home, I wasnt entirely selfish. During my hour long shower, Id at least taken the time to shave every inch of my long legs and smooth snatch ready for his return.
	I was just blow drying my long, black hair when the doorbell rang.
        Typical.
	Rolling my eyes, I put down the hair-dryer and pulled on my fluffy pink bath-robe, padding barefoot to the door. 
        I arrived just in time to see the mailman strolling down the driveway. Tucked under his arm was what I assumed to be the special delivery Id been waiting for.
	Hey! Wait up! 
        I swung open the door and ran after him, wincing as my bare feet hit the gravel.
        Fortunately, I didnt have to run far. The mailman wheeled around at the sound of my voice: Sorry, maam. I thought nobody was home.
	A likely story. He just didnt want to wait around.
        Irritated, I snatched my special delivery and signed for it with a flourish. Then, as Mr Mailman drove off in his silly little van, I painfully tip-toed across the gravel driveway back to the front door.
	Which was locked.
	I rattled the handle. It didnt budge.
        I must have pulled the latch as I ran out. Force of habit, since I do the same thing every morning on my way to work.
        Rattling the front door again didnt help - and I remembered that the deadbolt on the back door was locked as well. 
        This was just wonderful. Here I was, stuck in nothing but my bathrobe - trapped outside my own house.
	Fortunately, it was nice out. The breeze was gentle and the sun was warm.
        Wrapping my robe tighter around myself, I braved the driveway barefoot. Wincing as I trod on the sharp gravel, I crept around to the side of the house and breathed a sigh of relief. One of the basement windows was still open, left up on its latch. It looked like a tight fit, but I was pretty sure I could squeeze my way through the window into the basement.
	I lifted up the hem of my robe and knelt down in the flower bed, feeling the soft soil squish around my knees. Typical, I scoffed. Id need another shower after all this.
        Wrenching open the rusty basement window, I pondered how best to enter.
        Feet-first, my robe would ride up around my waist and my feet wouldnt be able to touch the floor. If I went head-first, at least Id be able to stretch out my hands to reach the shelves and pull myself safely through. It was a bit daunting, climbing in head first, but it looked like the best way to do it.
        So hefting up the window sash, I got on my knees and slid my head and shoulders through the narrow window.
        I made it maybe a foot. Then there was a sickening crunch.
        I felt the wind knocked out of my lungs.
	The rusty old clasp had broken. No sooner had I forced the front half of my body through the narrow window than the sash came crashing down on my shoulder blades  painlessly pinning me in the window frame. Fortunately, I hadnt injured myself  but it still knocked the wind out of me.
	And it was a fine mess to be in.
        Now the window had broken, my head and shoulders were stuck in the basement, while the rest of me was stuck outside. I was still on my knees, too  bottom stuck straight up in the air.
	I struggled back and forth, trying to get free. It was no good. Squeezing forward dug the sash into my spine, while pulling back wedged it up against my shoulder blades. With my arms hanging uselessly inside the window, I couldnt even get enough leverage to push my torso up and raise the sash.
        And believe me, I tried. I flattened my palms and tried to climb up the rough concrete wall, but all Id end up doing is sliding down again.
	Stuck in this embarrassing position, I did what any girl would do. I cried for help.
	Ive got quite a set of lungs on me, which was fortunate since most of my voice was muffled by the basement walls. But eventually, I heard the sound of feet crunching on the gravel driveway and a worried voice demand: Hello? Did you shout for help?
	I recognized the voice. It was Clive, my next door neighbor. He was a lovely guy  a big, handsome black man with a warm laugh.
	Clive! I cried. Please help me! Im stuck!
	It must have looked pretty weird. All Clive would have been able to see would be my butt, sticking up into the air and covered by my fluffy pink bathrobe.
	Mrs Hunt? His chuckle rumbled. Is that you?
	Well, Im hardly a burglar, I scoffed. They dont normally wear pink bathrobes.
	No, maam, they dont, he laughed. I heard his boots crunch in the gravel as he took a step closer. Looks like youve got yourself into a dilly of a pickle there.
	Could you help me up? I asked  surprised that the thought hadnt already occurred to him.
	He laughed again  it was a lovely noise, like logs crackling on a roaring fire.
	To be honest, I was feeling a little flustered. Clive was a very handsome and attractive guy  quite the favorite with the housewives on our street. It was pretty weird to be in such a vulnerable position. It wasnt just that I was totally trapped. With my ass stuck up into the air, it was almost like I was offering my butt to him. Not to mention, I might as well have been naked, apart from that thin, fluffy bathrobe.
	Now, before I help you out, Clive considered in that warm, sexy voice of his, I had a quick question.
	Cant it wait?
	Not really, Clive continued. In fact, quite the opposite. Im pretty sure Im not going to find you in a position like this again.
	I blushed. Not that hed have been able to notice.
	I was just remembering, Clive purred, that Christmas party last year.
	I blushed even harder.
	I remember, I admitted. It had been the streets Christmas party and Clive had held it at his place, inviting the whole block for drinks. Hed even gone so far as to dress up as Santa Claus for the kids  and as the evening had wore on (and more drinks had been poured) there were some not-so-little girls who decided to sit on Santas lap. Id been one of them.
	Do you remember what I asked you? Clive asked.
	I do, I squeezed my eyes shut with embarrassment. You asked me if Id been naughty or nice.
	And what did you say?
	I told you Id been very, very naughty.
	The truth was, I had been. I was more than a little tipsy that night and Id been flirting outrageously with Clive that evening. Nestling into his lap, staring into his eyes. I told him Id been very, very naughty and needed a good spanking for Christmas.
	Now that had all been in good fun. As flirtatious as I was  I hadnt meant anything by it. After all, Im a happily married woman. But as I knelt their, trapped in the window, I remembered how my husky voice had coincided with something very big and hard appearing in Santas pants. Wiggling around on his lap hadnt helped, either.
	It seems to me, Clive chuckled, that poor old Santa Claus isnt going to get another opportunity to deliver his Christmas present any time soon.
	I blinked.
	What?
	There was another crunch as Clive dropped to his knees on the gravel. Then, to my embarrassment, I felt him grab the hem of my robe and lift it up.
	What on earth I you doing? I demanded. Stop that this instant?
	But he didnt. In fact, Clive lifted my robe up completely, exposing my backside and thighs to the cool breeze.
	Stop that this instant! I yelled. Clive, this is highly inappropriate!
	I then felt his warm, calloused path stroke my exposed cheeks. They were still damp and greasy from my shower and a slathering of baby oil.
	Now Mrs Hunt, Clive warned, both you and I know you were hitting on me pretty hard last Christmas. You must have felt the bulge in Santas pants.
	I just thought that was a very large candy cane.
	No, Clive chuckled, I was just pleased to see you.
	He was rubbing my butt cheeks in wide, circular motions now. His hands were big and rough. His calluses felt delicious against my soft, oily skin.
	In fact, I know you felt the bulge, said Clive thoughtfully, because you kept wiggling on it.
	Oh, curse those cups of mulled wine Id had! He was absolutely right, of course. Id flirted incorrigibly. But in my defense, I wasnt the only one. Half the housewives on the block must have been hitting on sexy, single, exotic Clive.
	Ill tell you what, my dear, Clive purred. His fingers were stroking my legs now, dangerously close to my inner thighs. How about you be a big, brave girl and take your Christmas caning and then well see what we can do about getting you out of there?
	Now I know I should have said no. I should have yelled at him and threatened to call my husband  or the police. But the truth was, his warm, rough hands and deep, rich voice was turning me to butter. I was feeling trapped and vulnerable. Stuck on my knees, I was unintentionally offering myself up to him. My soft, round, freshly oiled ass. Even my shaved and baby-soft pussy, which Id carefully made smooth in anticipation of my husbands return.
	It wasnt my husband that was making it quiver now. It was Clive and those damnable hands of his. My clit was throbbing as his fingers traced a path ever closer to my moist snatch.
	I squeezed shut my eyes and tried to resist him one last time. I knew deep down that if I told him no, Clive would stop immediately and help me out of the window like a true gentleman.
	But I didnt want to say no.
	Alright, I whispered huskily.
	To reward me, Clive slid a rough, warm finger between the lips of my pussy. Not inside me Just enough to part my dampness and stroke my clit. His brief touch elicited a deep, guttural moan from me.
	And then he was gone.
	I heard the sound of his boots on the gravel, straightening up. Then I heard him march to the willow hedge dividing his property from ours and the sound of rustling undergrowth.
	W-what are you doing? I demanded. He didnt respond.
	Instead, I heard the snap of a breaking branch and then the rasp of leaves being torn off it. Then the whistling whisk of a bare branch being swung forcefully through the air.
	I bit my bottom lip.
	Of course, I couldnt see it  but I didnt need to. Clive had clearly taken a long, lithe branch of willow and stripped it of its leaves. What was left would be a flexible, sharp little switch.
	You cant be serious! I protested.
	Clive didnt say anything  but a moment later, I felt the tickling sensation of him running the flexible switch up and down my tingling thighs.
	Clive, please! I begged. Not that!
	Clive chuckled again.
	Its your choice, my dear, he purred warmly. If youd rather stay like that, Ill leave you be right now. But I should warn you. Next door have their Great Dane out and I dont think theyre getting him spayed until next month.
	I closed my eyes in frustration. Maybe Clive would be cruel enough to leave me pinned in the window until my husband got back  my ass in the air and my robe pulled up around my shoulders. Id be utterly helpless  and if to reinforce that point, I heard my neighbors rambunctious Great Dane bark playfully.
	Very well, I murmured.
	Good girl, the tip of the switch lightly tickled the lips of my pussy. Be brave.
	Its not like I had any choice in the matter!
	The tickling, teasing switch was removed and I heard the gravel crunch as Clive got into position.
	By the way, he announced, I think the neighbors are out in force today. The sound of this might not be too alarming, I heard the willow branch whisk sharply through the air, but if they hear you screaming or crying out, you can bet theyll be over trying to see whats wrong.
	I suddenly visualized all my neighbors, peering at my exposed backside as somebody other than my husband criss-crossed it with red stripes.
	Ill be quiet, I promised.
	Good girl, Clive purred wickedly. The switch swished through the air again.
	The gravel crunched. Through the glass, I felt his shadow fall across me.
	Im going to give you fifty two, he warned me. One for every week you were naughty.
	Fifty two! I cried out, almost loud enough for the neighbors to hear. I cant survive fifty two!
	You can and you will, Clive warned. In fact, youll no utter a noise except to thank me after each strike.
	Fifty two? I hadnt even had one, so I had no idea what to expect. In some ways, that made the anticipation so much worse. How would I be able to cope with one swish of that sharp little switch? Let alone fifty two of them?
	Please, no, I pleaded. I cant take that much.
	Well, that depends, Clive purred. Perhaps we can negotiate. But lets see how you hold up, first.
	And with that, I heard the swish of the branch whistling through the air and then an almighty crack as it made contact with my buttocks.
	For a second, I was surprised only by the noise  which was certainly loud enough for everybody on the street to hear. But barely a heartbeat later, I suddenly felt a strip of pure, red heat paint a bath across both by buttocks and I cried out in pain.
	Ssssh! Ordered Clive  and I struggled to stifle my groan.
	That initial thwack had been bad enough  but immediately afterwards, that thin line across my ass began to throb. Tears sprang from my eyes. I squeezed them shut, trying desperately to cope with the pain. It was like somebody was pressing a hot poker across my bum, the heart throbbing in time to my heartbeat.
	What do you say? Clive demanded.
	I didnt say anything. I was whooping in great lungfuls of air to cope with the pain.
	Through gritted teeth, I eventually managed to gasp: T-thank you.
	Good girl.
	There was the whisk of the branch again and then the sharp slap of birch against buttock.
	I stifled the cry, emitting a guttural groan as the throbbing pain spread itself in another thin line across my ass. Suddenly, the pulses of pain were in stereo, criss-crossing each other.
	You should see your beautiful bottom, Clive purred proudly. X marks the spot.
	Thank you, I groaned.
	The next swish bisected my thighs  landing on the strip where my ass meets my legs. 
	Thank you! I almost shouted, trying desperately to control the intense heat. THANK YOU!
	Another swish! Another thwack! This time, the only spot X marked on my thighs was my pussy, which was the centre point of the two criss-crossing switches.
	Tears were rolling down my cheeks. I was whooping in great lungfuls of air. I felt like I was melting  utterly helpless. 
	Clive must have realized that. There was a crunch of gravel as he knelt down and stroked my throbbing ass.
	His fingers were rough and calloused, but felt cool and gentle. He rubbed his big hands in rough circles, that helped soften the throbbing welts in my skin.
	There, there, he said soothingly. Youre a good girl. And only forty eight left to go!
	Oh, God I groaned.
	Be a brave little baby, Clive whispered huskily.
	He wouldnt have been able to see it, but I shook my head from side to side.
	I cant cope with fifty two, I pleaded. Ill just die.
	Well, Ill tell you what, Clive continued rubbing my tortured tushy, sending delicious endorphins into my bloodstream. I was still in pain, but it was almost like I was lifted up onto a cloud. My body and brain felt like helpless, compliant clay he could mould with those amazing fingers of his. Do you remember what else you told me that Christmas, when you were sitting on Santas lap?
	In my dreamy state, I would actually hear my own voice  telling Santa that if he came down my chimney, hed get more of a treat than milk and cookies.
	If you can make it up to fifteen, Clive purred, his fingers straying between my thighs, hovering above my shaven snatch, Ill trade you those remaining switches for Santas treat, okay?
	With that, his rough fingers spread me open - and I felt his thumb press against me.
        I gushed wetness. Like quicksand, my pussy sucked his thumb inside. His knuckle rubbed against my clitoris.
        My tortured backside was still throbbing, but the sensation of pain and pleasure had become totally entwined now. My pussy throbbed to the same heartbeat as the burning lines across my ass. It was intense  like my upturned rump was burning with nerve endings.
        Clives delicious fingers slid wetly from between my thighs, leaving a tingling, hollow feeling once theyd gone. Then he straightened up and I heard the birch whistle through the air.
        Fifteen, remember, he warned me.
        And then he swung.
        It was the most delicious type of torture. Hed swing the switch and it would strike my trembling tush like fire, painting yet another burning brand across my tush that would throb and pulsate long after the wood had left my skin. Then hed wait long, lingering seconds  enough for the intensity of the strike to fade into the burning aftermath of recovery. 
        One, hed count. When Id breathlessly managed to murmur thank you hed swing again. Two.
        Tortuously, one after the other, he counted out fifteen more swishes of the stick. Fifteen more red lines across my bum. Fifteen more groans of thank you.
        And then finally, blissfully, it was done.
        I knelt there, still stick in the window. I couldnt feel my ass any more. It just felt like my stomach ended and this great big, burning mass began.
        When Clive bent over me to wrench open the sash, I barely had the strength to pull back and free myself from the window. I just slumped into the flowerbed, feeling the wet soil against my skin.
        Drifting dreamily in and out of consciousness, unable to concentrate on anything except the steady, pulsating pain in my roasted rump, I let Clive scoop me up in his strong arms and carry me to the back door. There, hanging limply across his shoulders, I watched him pull out his keys and unlock our back door.
        Your husband gave me a spare, he explained, the last time you went on vacation.
        I was lain gently across the bed, face first so my birched-backside was protected. Then, half asleep, I heard the sound of running water as Clive ran a bath.
        Then I fell asleep.
        When I woke up, I was being gently carried to the bathroom. Clive stripped me of my muddy bathrobe and slid me into the overflowing bathtub.
        The big bath was brimming with bubbles. The water was so hot, it nearly scorched me. The moment the heat hit my tortured ass, I cried out in pain.
        There there, Clive rolled me onto my tummy, so my weight wasnt resting on my bottom. Be brave.
        And I was. The water felt amazing. The pain was still there  but it dulled to a delicious ache.
        As I floated there in the water, like a lifeless doll, I watched my neighbor strip.
        He pulled off his sweater, revealing his muscular brown torso. His belt unbuckled and his khakis fell to the floor. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his jockey shorts, he pulled them down and out flopped an enormous cock, half swollen and falling almost three quarters of the way down his thigh.
        Clive carefully folded his clothes and left them by the door: So they dont get wet.
        Then, naked, he knelt by the side of the bath, reached for the baby oil and started slathering me up.
        I just lay there, floating in the water. Clives rough hands would pick me up and slather me with oil, which he kneaded in, massaging every inch of me with his big, strong fingers. He cupped and squeezed my breasts. Ran fingers down my spine. Kneaded my thighs like dough. He caressed my bottom, stroking each painful welt with pride and affection.
        Then, just as I thought Id melt into the bathwater itself, he slid his fingers back inside me.
        I was so turned on by this point. The switches might have been tortuously painful, but theyd awoken my bodys senses like never before. Id never felt so alive to every touch and sensation. As Clives thick fingers stretched me open and his callused thumb circled my clit, I bit my lip and surrendered to an orgasm every bit as blissful and intense as the birching.
        Feeling floppy and helpless, I let Clive position me on all fours, my weight resting on the end of the bathtub. Then there was a splash and he clambered into the hot water.
        I peered over my shoulder, watching him drop to my knees behind me. Sticking up from between his legs was a thick, black rod that looked far more daunting than the switch hed tortured me with.
        With his rough fingers closing around my thighs, I let him spread my ass. Then I felt his thick, engorged cock press against my pussy.
        He sunk into me like I was hot butter. Immediately, I felt deliciously full. His magnificent dick slid so deep inside me, I could feel my spine straighten.
        My fingers gripped the lip of the bathtub and I braced my feet against the taps. Somewhat secure, I then surrendered myself to him.
        Clive was a passionate and powerful lover. He dug deeply into my pussy, spreading me wider and more open than Id ever been before. His muscular, brown body was hot against mine. His dick throbbed and swelled inside me. The thought of being fucked so forcefully by a man other than my husband made me wilt in wicked pleasure. 
        As Clive pounded into me, the water sloshed and splashed over the edges of the bathtub. His big dick rubbed and teased my g-spot. His bony hips slapped against my fleshy rump and each thrust set my sore bottom screaming in delicious agony.
        Then I heard him grunting.
        I had to brace myself against his pounding. Bucketfuls of water sloshed onto the bathroom floor. His rough fingers grasped my buttocks and wrenched them apart, so he could plunge his pulsating cock even more deeply inside of me. He was splitting me in two  and I loved it. Closing my eyes, I uttered a low moan as he drove me over the brink into orgasm.
        And then he cried out.
        His weight crushed mine. His cock, lodged deep inside me, swelled and pulsated, stretching me wider than ever before. I felt myself fill with warmth. He was coming inside me  another mans sperm was spurting into my body and just the thought of that alone was enough to make me twist and tremble in a third and final climax.
        Wed stayed connected at the groin for what seemed like forever, both gasping for air. Eventually, he slid his flaccid cock out of me inch by delicious inch and it flopped wetly into the water. I slumped back, feeling his seed dribble down my thighs. 
        Still weak as a kitten  by the climaxes as much as the caning  I let Clive help me from the bath and wrap me in a fluffy white towel. He led me to the bedroom, where I slumped onto the covers while he mopped up the water in the bathroom and helped get the place back into some semblance of order.
        Eventually, he came back into the bedroom, pulling on his clothes.
        I was more awake now, lying on my tummy with my naked rump exposed. It was criss-crossed by a dozen angry red lines.
        What on earth will I tell my husband? I demanded. My ass looks like a chessboard!
        Well, Mrs Hunt, Clive knelt by the bed and gave me a wet kiss on the lips, thats no longer my problem.
        With that, my magnificent neighbor left by the back door, whistling cheerfully and swishing that willow branch through the air.
        I reached rather frantically for the cocoa butter. I had six hours until my husband was home. Perhaps, by some miracle, Id be able to make the redness go down by then

