Motorcycle My Ass

The storm I knew was coming suddenly blew in right there in front of me. I'm speaking, of course about my wife Jill. "Honey, what's that out in the garage?" she asked sweetly. Believe me, it wasn't all that sweet if you looked in her eyes and knew what she was getting at. Naturally, I adopted Defense Method 1: Play Dumb.

"What are you talking about, babe?"

"Are you fucking kidding me? You want to pull this shit? Are you serious?"

"What?" Long pause. "What?" Note to self: forget Defense Method 1. It doesn't work as well as you might hope, especially when she goes directly to Response Condition 3.

"Ok, you're going to go there and now you're going to pay for it." Before I could respond, Jill grabbed me by the hair, dragged me violently out to the garage and placed me squarely before the object of my latest desire. I have never been able to believe the strength this little woman has, the determination and the fearlessness she musters when the moment calls for action. Where does it come from and why can I make no defense against it? I'm bigger and stronger but she goes into another world and I'm sorry, call me a wimp but I swear, there's no fighting back. It's like I'm paralyzed or something. If this is an example of moral authority I'm going to have to get myself some of it in the future. That shit is powerful! My hair was burning at the roots. Before us stood a gleaming brand new Harley. Duh, like I didn't know.

Still, Defense Method 1 requires Defense Response 1. "Oh, that! That's our new bike!"

"Oh, I see" she said, her sarcasm was getting edgy. One might say an insane kind of edgy. "And how did "we" pay for "our"...new...bike?"

"Well" I replied taking a mature, serious tone, the echo of the recently failed Defense Method 1 and it's associated response still fresh in my mind and even worse, still fresh in hers, "I got a really great interest rate on an unsecured loan through the credit union. I think you'll be proud of me when you see how great the terms are." She just looked at me, eyeing me steadily, not talking. Ah, there it was, the opening I was looking for. In another second I'd be making the old look at the money we're saving by spending now argument. I liked the way this was going. Maybe Defense Method 1 didn't suck so badly after all. One just has to see it through and develop it a little bit. I was getting ready to hit her with my next point about how I negotiated a deal so great it may even make the evening financial report when Jill jumped in.

"That's what I thought." And with another mighty tug of my hair, she dragged me through the house to the bedroom. "Drop those jeans" she demanded and in a second they were on the floor. I well knew by this time what was going to happen, having had nothing else to think about on my trip from the garage to the bedroom, passing through the kitchen, TV room and down the hall except whether I should get hard saddle bags or soft leather for the bike, what were we going to have for supper and was Elaine's tits on Seinfeld perfect or could they have been just a little larger?

Suddenly I heard a whoosh and felt a terrible stinging pain against my poor, defenseless cock. Although I personally was dreading what was to come, my cock, free, gulping fresh air and finding himself in the presence of his favorite personage was apparently rising in morbid anticipation, the dumb fucking idiot. "You can forget that" she said to me or my cock or perhaps the both of us together, I wasn't quite sure on that point. Her fucking back scratcher was flying through the air for a second trip. "You're going to wish you never heard of a motorcycle when I finish with you." I flinched and it landed on my thigh stinging like a hell convention at a needle factory.

Let me tell you about this "back scratcher." This wasn't your everyday piece of cheap plastic crap you get at the county fair for losing the ball toss. This baby was made out of prime green bamboo. The back of the hand was long and flat until it's tiny little fingers curled frontward at the last minute. Jill had broken the shaft so being a nice guy, I glued a piece of 3/8" dowel to it increasing its length and in effect adding a handle making this thing a whip. This god damned thing was ferocious and in the hands of a mad Jill was a weapon of ass destruction. She would use the curly part of it on her back and the flat part of it on my ass.

She pushed my head down towards the bed where I braced myself, my ass hanging out in the cold. "Spread those legs, you fucking asshole." As the man says, resistance is futile and I was about to get the whipping of my life. Jill laid into me with a vengeance. Stroke after stroke fell across my ass. It burned, it stung, my ass got hotter and hotter with the rushing blood. I knew it was getting redder and redder until, I felt sure, we were at the point where welts would rise with each stroke. The whole time, Jill kept up an amazing diatribe of abuse and invective telling me how it would be a month before I could sit on a motorcycle but don't worry about it because the men from the shop would be by to pick it up and take it back long before my ass healed.

She hit my left cheek, then my right, high, low, in-between. Sometimes she hit the same spot several times in a row, driving her points home with each stroke. Sometimes just the hand part found its place and other times just the cane part sliced into and through me in a searing pain marking me as her bitch. That foul mouth of which I had always been so fond was beginning to lose its appeal to me. The strokes continued, over and over and over. Time was non existent, my thoughts lost to me in a fog of nothingness and still the whipping continued. I could hear the cracks of it hitting my or for all I knew someone's body as well as the whooshing of displaced air. My arms were weakening and trembling. I was getting ready to collapse. I was getting close to passing out.

Jill flipped me over using her knee in my gut as a lever so that suddenly I was lying face up. Without missing a stroke, she started whipping my thighs and stomach, getting closer and closer to my now terrified cock. I have to admit that even I was getting somewhat alarmed at this point. After all, we were best friends and had faced many trials, tribulations and not a few successes during our time together and would hopefully have a few more to face in the future if this crazy little mad woman would just calm the fuck down. Who'd of thought she'd feel so strongly about a motorcycle?

I actually began to think through all the pain that maybe this wasn't quite fair of her and that I'd be god damned if I was even going to give her a ride on the mother fucker before it got taken back. Fuck her! Jill made a few swipes towards my cock, stopping just short. I admit it, he was shriveled like a three year old boy and I don't blame him. Out of a normal defense reflex I covered with my hand what had been my proud, bold manhood, my friend and confidant, my co-pilot, my whole total being. I know, I'm shallow. If you had a cock that loved you as much as mine did, you would be too. Thwack! My hand took the blow that was meant for him.

"Turn over!" I did as ordered, making sure "Hairy" was fully protected between me and the bed. It had been a close call. The plush soft spread felt pretty good down there. I moved around in a short circular motion as the whipping continued, putting all the pressure you know where. Getting a couple of even harder hits soon put an end to the motion nonsense. As my ass neared what must have been it's utmost endurance before actually being shredded, Jill, her anger finally subsiding took a few more swipes at the back of my legs. She stood there silently, surveying my glaring red torn-up backside, her breathing hard from her labors. She then fell onto the bed panting heavily, not saying a word. Both of us were sweating, her from exhaustion and me from pain. After a few minutes, she said, "Get me a fucking glass of water." I rose with difficulty and grabbed my jeans off the floor. She made another swipe at me with the fucking back scratcher and said, "You don't need those fucking jeans. Get it now!" Man, some people are just fucking wound too tight!

I got the water from the fridge. She took a few quick gulps then handed it to me. I finished it and put the glass on the nightstand. I was about to get up and leave with a quiet refined dignity when she pulled my head gently close to hers, looked me sweetly in the eyes and said, "Honey, you know you should have discussed this with me. This is a big purchase."

"I know" I said. I got caught up and just thought that since we've talked about it the last several years that you would be cool with it."

"I don't really mind that you have it, but we should have bought it together, that's all" and with an easy motion, she pulled a breast out of her shirt and fed her nipple to my mouth. Wow, this girl moves fast! She had removed her bra while I was gone and put her shirt back on. A moment ago she's tearing up my ass like there's no tomorrow and in seconds she tells me she's ok with the bike and is nursing me with a beautiful tit! Not one to argue or hold a grudge, I accepted the nipple and began to forget about how much my ass still throbbed and even decided that however long it takes to return to normal, it was worth it. I know, I'm stupid and a whore, but fuck it, I am what I am.

Our unspoken rule is that no matter what we do, no matter how off the wall we get or how dominating one of us can occasionally be, we always end by restoring the other's dignity. It is a time of grace and redemption and often the best part of us comes out through our love for each other. Humiliation of one is followed by the humility of the other. Both have grown and both are healed. Both are strengthened.

Jill switched me to her other sweet nipple and after a few minutes of stroking the back of my head and making comforting sounds, she withdrew her breast and said, "You're not off that easy yet, bucko. I built up quite a sweat pounding your ass and since I know you don't like sweaty pussy, you have one more job to do before you redeem yourself. Her look was steady and strong. She was serious and willing to go to the mat should I be so stupid to resist. Although I love freshly bathed pussy, I really hate eating sweaty smelly cunt but again, I'm not one to argue so I accepted my fate, slid down her legs while pulling off her jeans and panties and steeled myself to the beautiful albeit smelly world that awaited me. Plus, sore ass or not, guess what I was riding to work tomorrow!