I have to say in my own defence that what happened wasn't really my fault. It was really the weather and a bit of boredom and I had to do something to kick the doldrums. It was a hot sticky day and I was home alone as my parents had gone away for the weekend. I could have gone with them but who wants to be a third wheel to two older people having a romantic weekend? Not me, that was for sure.
Anyway, it was hot and it was sticky and I didn't want to go out into that hot stickiness. Neither did I want to stay inside, even if it was air-conditioned. Quite a conundrum wasn't it? The most excitement I'd had so far this weekend was watching our new neighbour across the road paint his front fence. It was now gleaming white in the sun.
Our new neighbour's name was John Radford. I'd met him when he came over to introduce himself. He was about the same age as my father which would put him at roughly forty, but he was a big burly man, compared to my father's lean lankiness. He looked as though he looked after himself, with that burliness looking like solid beef, not fat. I idly wondered if he was married but I hadn't seen any sign of a Mrs Radford.
For some reason that pristine fence was annoying me, all gleaming and newly white. Not that it would have been more than a slight irritant except for that prevailing boredom, the itch to do something, anything, and seeing that big black marking pen sitting on the coffee table. My father had left it there for some reason. I kept on meaning to go and put it in the junk drawer in the kitchen and seeing it again I decided to do so.
I picked up the marker and the flash of that fence caught my eye and just like that mischief was born. Don't do it, the voice of caution warned. There'll be no real harm, the spirit of mischief prompted me.
I strolled across the road, marker in hand, and walked the length of Mr Radford's fence, the business end of the marker dragging against the fence the whole way, leaving a nice black streak. Easily panted over, so no real harm, right?
If I had any sense I'd have left things at that, but the fact that I was out there drawing on a newly painted fence showed that common sense was something I was lacking at that point of time, malicious humour over-riding it. I turned around and strolled back along the fence, leaving a second black line.
I was half-way along when Mr Radford came out of his front door. Now he didn't know what I was doing. He was probably just going out somewhere. He'd walk out the gate and keep going, not even noticing the black lines. I mean, why would he? That's what logic would have told me. Ever notice how logic goes out the door when you think you've been sprung and caught red-handed? Or black-handed in this case? I turned and legged it back across the road and into the house just as fast as I could.
Naturally enough my fleeing the scene was enough to arouse his suspicions and it only took a quick look to let him know what I'd been up to.
"You infernal brat!" came drifting after me, but moments later I was inside my own house with no intention of answering the door if anyone decided to knock.
It didn't come as the world's greatest surprise when there was a rather thunderous knock on the door a minute later. I just stayed in the front room, giggling nervously.
"Laugh it up while you can," growled a voice from behind me and I spun around with a startled cry to find Mr Radford standing in the doorway.
"What are you doing here? How'd you get in, anyway?" I demanded.
"I'm here because I want to talk to your father. As to how I got in, the door wasn't locked so I just opened it and walked in. Now why don't you get your father for me?"
An idiot. That's what I was. An idiot. Fancy not locking the door. Still, all was not lost.
"My father's not here. He won't be back until tomorrow," I announced quite cheerfully.
"Your mother, then," he said.
"With my father," I said, even more cheerfully.
"In other words you're home alone?"
"Got it in one," I agreed, giving him a big smile. Who cared if he wanted to rant a bit? I'd just let it wash over me, not actually touching me.
"You probably think you're being clever, but you're really being a bit naïve," he said, and now he was sounding suspiciously happy. "Seeing your parents aren't here I guess I'll just have to discipline you myself."
I was like 'say what'. Before I could say anything he'd reached out and caught my arm. That done he just plunked himself down on the couch and yanked me over his knee.
"Seeing you performed such a childish prank I'll give you a fitting punishment. A simple spanking will make me feel a lot better and will certainly cause you to think twice before you do anything so stupid again."
"You wouldn't dare," I gasped and then gave a startled yelp when he yanked my shorts and panties down, leaving my bottom (and other parts) exposed.
On top of the bared bottom was the knowledge that a) I wasn't wearing a bra, and b) my t-shirt was following the dictates of gravity and sliding toward the floor, as that was where my upper body was pointed, meaning that if he looked he'd see my breasts as well.
"Does this feel like I wouldn't dare?" he asked, his hand coming down firmly on my bottom, causing my whole body to jolt. Being a big part of my body my breasts also jolted, flopping back and forth. Gods, I hoped he wasn't noticing them.
"I suppose I should give you a little lecture," he said as his hand came down again, me yelping again, my body jolting again, and my breasts flopping back and forth. "Do you really need the lecture or can we just take that as said?"
All I was saying was things like, "Argh, no, don't, stop," but he acted as though I was seriously answering him.
"Yeah, I have to agree. A lecture on top of the spanking would be redundant. Come to think of it, do you think I should have gone with the lecture instead of the spanking?"
"Yes," I wailed. "Now stop. I've learned. I'm sorry."
His hand kept bouncing off my bottom, and they weren't gentle spanks. He was definitely meaning for me to understand that he was somewhat irate.
"You say you're sorry, but are you really and truly sorry, or are you just saying that?" Spank!
"Yes, yes, yes. It was stupid. I knew it was and I never really intended to do it. It just happened."
"Sort of like this spanking is just happening?" he asked, and his hand finally stopped descending.
You'd think his stopping was a good thing, and it was, but what wasn't quite so good was a number of other things. Things like the fact that my bottom was smarting. Things like the fact that my breasts were still swaying back and forth. Things like my t-shirt being bunched-up above my breasts, my swaying breasts having pushed it there. Things like my shorts and panties being bunched around my knees.
All those things could be classified as not good but they were minor compared to the final item. When he stopped spanking he didn't remove his hand. He simply slid it between my legs and was rubbing me there, quite firmly, and that touch seemed to carry quite deep inside me. On top of that there was the added irritation that my legs were separated as far as they could be, allowing for the constricting effect of the shorts around my knees. That was just plain wrong as I'd held them together when the spanking started, in a naturally modest reaction. So how come they were now parted?
