I usually wake up very early -- sometimes as early as 3AM. I am the kind of person who, once awake, has to get out of bed. Then, several hours later, I find my eyelids drooping and end up taking a nap. Fortunately, I am self-employed and work from home, so this is not a conflict. The morning I am writing about was no exception. Up at 4AM, coffee, reading and internet until 6, then back to bed.
The sun was bright coming through the window. I rubbed my eyes and decided to get up again on that Saturday morning. We had stayed up rather late the night before anyway, entertaining my wife's brother and sister-in-law, who had been our guests for the previous three days. The last I had heard, they were all going to some kind of a seasonal festival in a nearby community that morning. After I had returned to bed, I remembered hearing the commotion of them leaving. 'Ah!' I thought, 'I have the house to myself.'
I rolled out and padded naked to the kitchen. There was still some coffee in the pot. I was standing there sipping the coffee and gazing out the window at the back yard. I was considering some nude sunbathing when I heard a voice behind me.
"Hey! Is it your birthday?" I whirled around in surprise. My wife's sister-in-law had entered silently and was standing just inside the kitchen doorway. She had on a short terry robe and a broad grin.
"Huh?" I responded intelligently. Then I got it: I was naked, so, "birthday" = "birthday suit". Pretty funny. Okay. Ha-ha. I smiled sheepishly. "Busted!" I said. "Actually every day is my birthday if I don't have to go anywhere, or if we don't have house guests."
"Hey, it's okay with me," she said, crossing to refill her own coffee cup. Paul and I go naked at home, too." Then she asked, "Is the coffee okay? I didn't know how much you usually put in." Okay, if we were going to just ignore my nudity, I could go with that.
"Oh, sure. I thought Mary had made it." It tasted like my wife's coffee.
"No. Those two soaked the first pot up before they left." That reminded me.
"I thought you were all going to the craft fair today."
"I begged off. I can't stand that country craft crap," she said. Then she was standing next to me and leaning against the counter. I turned back to look out the window again. Mary and Paul are ten years apart in age. I am five years older than my wife, which makes me about the same age as Paul's wife, Jill. She is an attractive woman. Just over five feet tall, slender and taut. She is a runner, so she has that thin and wiry kind of runner's body. Her tits are very small. As she stood there next to me -- almost touching -- I caught a scent from her. Not perfume, soap or body odor. Or, if it was a natural aroma, it was a pleasant one. I was just about to excuse myself to go put a robe on when she said, "So. If it's your birthday, that must mean you have to get a birthday spanking, eh?"
I looked down at her, smiling and frowning at the same time. She was grinning again. She reached behind me and slapped my bare ass sharply. The swat was loud in the kitchen. I jumped and I'm sure my eyes bugged out. I moved out of her reach.
My thoughts rolled over and over. My wife has a spanking fetish. It always leads to extremely erotic sex when I spank her. I've even let her try spanking me, but it doesn't usually turn me on as much as her. Now I found myself wondering if the fetish ran in her family. I pictured Jill spread over her husband's knee and yelping as he delivered a sound paddling. My cock twitched.
I raised an eyebrow at Jill and said in my best villainous voice, "Don't start something you can't finish, Shorty!" Well, being a runner made her a competitor. She rose to the challenge. She swatted me again and spun out of range when I reached for her.
The coffee cups were left on the counter as I stalked her across the kitchen. She backed away, jerking her arm when I made a grab for it. But moving backwards in an unfamiliar room isn't the best defense. She bumped her hip against one of the chairs around the table. When she glanced to see what she'd hit, I pounced. I wrapped her in a bear hug and tossed her over my shoulder. I carried her into the living room, with her wriggling, shrieking, and pounding her fist on my back all the way. She was, however, almost out of control with her laughing and shrieking.
I flopped her onto the couch. In the struggle, the sash of her robe had loosened and her robe was almost completely open. She was, as I had thought, as naked as I was under it. Before she could escape again, I gripped one side of her robe and lifted. It had the effect of rolling her out of the garment and leaving her on her belly on the cushions. I quickly restrained her with a hand on her back.