 The vase held some drooping mauve tulips, one of the petals had fallen onto the blue check tablecloth which covered the table used for family meals. Beside the vase stood a dark bowl of plump apples. As the heavy drape curtains were tightly drawn the room was lit entirely by a small lamp that sat on the mantelpiece. That particular evening I remember she was still wearing her summer school dress and on her golden brown legs a pair of short white socks. I grabbed her slender wrist and she was laughing. I pulled her over my lap. She gave me such an instant erection, the  sheer thrill of that hot skinny body on my lap. The weight of her flat soft stomach pressing down on my prick. She was eleven. She was eleven years old for goodness sake and she had been a very naughty girl. Not that I needed an excuse to spank her.

Right there and then I lifted her dress and  feasted my eyes on her perfect bottom. My right hand gently massaging its round, fleshy contours. I enjoy each moment  like a gourmet savouring a choice morsel and begin to smack her bum hard. Much harder than I should perhaps. She yelled as if it was really hurting and writhed across my lap. Her yells become louder until she is screaming for me to stop.  I wanted so badly to take her panties down although I know I dare not, things had already gone far enough. Her panties are small, pink and see through. In all I smacked her about thirty times. It must have stung a great deal. With no mercy shown. Even when she bursts into tears I carry on smacking that sore looking bottom with yet more devilishly hard smacks. When she gets up she is crying a little but I could see she loved it, really loved it. Her eyes shine with a mixture of tears and excitement. Again I grab her arm, she doesn't resist. I stroke her golden blonde hair. It is cut a little too short for a girl and she has a boyish charm about her. It is only right she should be punished like a boy.

"Did it hurt Jenny" I asked. She tilts her pretty head and laughs softly, her cheeks flushed and she leans provocatively  across my upper thigh. Her small hand hovers less than inch away from my bulging prick. I am sure she knows. You could see it in her dark pretty eyes.

"You were lucky I didn't take your panties down" I said. Their were of course two possible reasons for taking her panties down, She smiled showing the lucky gap in her small white teeth. Her hand moved just a fraction closer to the bulge. Then she touched it. Maybe it was an accident.

"You can take them down if you want to. I don't mind if you do" she replies. By now her hand is shamelessly pressing down upon my long hard prick, through the thin material of my trousers I can feel the heat of her hand. I am so tempted but I resist.

Of course I wanted to but I didn't although it required more willpower than I knew I possessed. Instead I went upstairs and closed the bedroom door. A few minutes later her mother arrived home at least an hour earlier than expected. The next month I left the house never to return, although I kept in touch. When I saw her a few years later it was at a funeral. She was eighteen. The guy with her was even older than I was and looked as if he couldn't quite believe his luck. She gave me a wet kiss and a hug. I could taste the alcohol on her breath. I remembered that evening seven years ago when I so nearly sinned. I wonder if she remembered it too?