Summertime

Well, it is that time of year when you go on holiday, and go visiting relatives and you generally are busy with things not blogging. It is the same for me. And I am afraid I won't be back here until August, or at least I don't think it is fair to promise to do anything before that. So, I am writing this just to let you know that the blog is not abandoned, just temporarily a little lazy.

Summer is a good time, a time of light dress, bare legs and no shoes, sun (even in UK we do have sun from time to time) and softness. Enjoy your summer and be kind to yourselves (antipodeans have to enjoy the winter or wait some time).

I will just post a silly little nothing I wrote the other day. It was one of those things when you start with just a phrase and then just write and see what happens. It was just that 'I want to see you in bikini,' that started it all, just a thought, and when I added 'she said' to it, it became something that made me continue. I honestly think this is a silly dialogue, but what's wrong with silliness?

Thank you ever so much for your kind words about my last post. It was very heart-warming and encouraging. I haven't forgotten the suggestion, some time ago, about writing about writing, about the blog, what has happened with the stories, if they have evolved and that sort of thing. Take care, Dear Readers.

'I want you in bikini,' she said and smiled to me.

'Why would you want that?'

'I think you are pretty in bikini.'

'But the others won't be in swimsuits.'

'No, but that doesn't matter, I want you in bikini.'

'That would be strange, I mean, with them in whatever they wear and me in just a bikini.'

'That's why I want it, no explanation, no reason, just having you there in a bikini, displaying that sweet little body of yours, for all to see. And hopefully you are a little embarrassed, that's very fetching.'

'I will sure be embarrassed.'

'Good. I haven't decided which one, though.'

'Oi, I haven't said I would yet.'

'I think, perhaps, the white one, with red polka dots, it's very cute.'

'It's also very small.'

'Not like the black one, the one with just a string.'

'No, that's true, but it is very low cut and the top is not big.'

'But you don't need a big top.'

'My bosoms is so small, you mean?'

'It is the perfect size, it looks lovely, really delightful.'

'I am glad you like it.'

'Don't be stupid, you know I love it,' she smiled.

'Yes, yes, I know.'

'So why not show it off?'

'Because it is very private and you don't go round and show your breasts to people.'

'That's true, maybe you shouldn't wear the top.'

'I'll take the bikini, no protests.'

'But that's a good idea, you there without a top. I can imagine what they would look like. I can see you standing there, greeting Brian, and how he wouldn't know where to look, if he was allowed to look at your bosoms or not.'

'How do you know he would want to do that. Maybe he likes bigger things.'

'I know he loves your tits.'

'How do you know that?'

'He told me.'

'He told you?'

'Yeah.'

'You have talked about my breasts with Brian?'

'Yes, and not only with him.'

'With others?'

'Yes, of course.'

'Why is that of course?'

'Because you have very lovely breasts and it's nice to share the thought with others.'

'So you have discussed my breasts with people who appreciate them?'

'Yes, most of them.'

'Who didn't like them?'

'Don't focus on the negative.'

'Who?'

'Tanya.'

'You discussed my bosoms with Tanya, a girl?'

'Yeah, why not. I am a girl and I love your boobs.'

'Boobs?'

'Yeah, or tits, or breasts, or bosoms.'

'But Tanya didn't like them?'

'She's envious.'

'How do you know?'

'Because yours look nicer.'

'Have you studied hers, then?'

'Yes, of course.'

'I haven't, but as I remember they look nice.'

'But not as well shaped. I didn't say they were ugly.'

'No, you didn't.'

'No.'

'But still, I can't believe it, you talk about my breasts with others.'

'And the rest.'

'The rest?'

'Yeah, Eric adores your tummy.'

'My tummy?'

'Yeah, he told me it was the softest, sweetest tummy he knows.'

'How would he know it is soft, he hasn't touched it?'

'It looks very soft.'

'So you agree.'

'Wholeheartedly.'

'This is mad.'

'And Rebecca loves your bottom and Mark is a sucker for your legs.'

'I don't believe this, I am just an ordinary woman.'

'No, you're not. You are special.'

'For you, perhaps, but I don't look special.'

'You do.'

'I don't.'

'Do you know what Rebecca said about your bottom?'

'No, I have no idea.'

'She praised it highly and then she said it was a spankable bottom.'

'Spankable?'

'Yeah, that she would love to spank your bottom.'

'Doesn't that hurt?'

'Of course it does.'

'But why? Does she hate me?'

'No, she adores you. She just wants to spank your bottom. For the joy of it.'

'That's mad.'

'No, not at all. I might try it myself.'

'You wouldn't dare!'

'Don't tempt me. And maybe I should let her do it.'

'You are mad.'

'Madly in love with you. Go and change to the bikini now, the guests are here soon.'

'I will, for you I will do it. But don't you dare let Rebecca get close to my bottom.'

'All right, but I am not sure I can stop John, though.'

'John?'

'He expressed something along those lines. Maybe you should take the string, it would make it easier for him. Without too much embarrassment for you.'

'I'll change into the polka dot now.'

'Yes, you do that.'

Before the Party

I know, I am hopeless. Here I bang on about a darker side and daring to write something that scares me, and when I sit down and write, this kind of story comes out. Well, I can't deny it, I am a hopeless romantic, so here is a kind of love story...of sorts.

She was beautiful. I know it is shallow to begin with that, but she was. She was blond, narrow shoulders and narrow hips. She was quite small. She had the greenest of eyes and a very serious mouth, a mouth I couldn't help wanting to kiss. And a smile that made my knees week.

Somehow it seems even more shallow to try to describe her character, or what I liked about it. She was clever, that goes without saying, but she had humour and she was kind and she was a good person to be with.

The real truth was that I loved her. Whatever her looks or her mind or whatever it could be, I just loved her. And best of all was that she loved me.

This particular night we were on our way to a rather formal dinner. I wasn't used to it, neither was she, but we knew it was good for both of us to attend. And besides, who could be sure it wasn't going to be nice?

I had tried my best to dress up in black tie but that was nothing compared to her. When I got to her flat I was amazed by how she looked.

She had dressed in a black dress, it was almost shining, some kind of satin, I suppose. And it felt really nice to the touch. It was a sleeveless dress with a wide neck, but quite modest. The upper part fit her quite snugly while the skirt was wide.

The way she smiled at me, and how she looked with her hair in a ponytail, necklace and earrings and everything. I thought it would be hard to keep my hands off her.

She didn't make it any easier by standing very close to me and inviting me to take her in my arms. I kissed her, and she kissed me. I didn't want to go to the party.

'I love you,' she said.

'I love you too,' I replied.

'I don't think you understand,' she said and tilted her head, 'I love you so very, very much.'

'You do make it hard to leave the flat.'

'You do want me then?'

'I want you,' I said, 'I want you so very, very much,' echoing her words.

'You can have me,' she said and looked almost serious, 'I mean it, you can do anything you want with me. I am yours.'

'That sounds very nice,' I said.

'I mean it, anything.'

'I like hearing you say that, but you don't mean it.'

'I do.'

'Anything?'

'Anything.'

I looked at her. I can't describe the expression on her face, but I knew it was something deep and profound, something I may not ever understand, but something that was there all the same, there for me.

'If I make you regret those words?' I said.

'Make me regret them.'

I looked at her. She smiled. I believe it was in that moment I decided what to do.

I left the embrace. Took a good look at her, then I looked around. I moved in a strange kind of haze, but I was determined. For some odd reason I knew exactly what to do.

I took the wooden chair that stood in the hallway, the chair she used to sit on when putting on her shoes. I turned it round. I then took her hand and pulled her towards me. She look amused and curious as I sat down on the chair. She made no efforts to defy me when I pulled her down on my lap. Maybe she knew what I wanted to do, maybe she just read my movements in that moment.

'Careful with the dress,' she whispered.

'Don't worry,' I said and flipped her skirt up. 'Nice, black,' I said when I saw her knickers.

I leaned to the side and picked up one of her plimsolls. It was a grey shoe that seemed to fit well in my hand. I then looked at her knickers. There was really no reason to hold back. I took hold of them and pulled them down. She gasped a little but said nothing. She even lifted her hips to make it easier for me to pull down her underwear.

I didn't say anything. There were no words for this. Instead I smacked her bottom with the shoe She jumped and gasped but didn't say anything.

Then I began spanking her in earnest. I let the shoe fly through the air and smack down on her naked bottom, time and again. There was a very special sound that resounded through the hallway, a sound I knew I liked.

It had been just an idea, maybe born from a deeper longing, a fantasy or desire I had born inside me for a long time. When I decided what I was to do, I thought only of teasing her, of challenging her words, trying to make her regret them, prove that I was right. But now when I was really sitting there, letting my hand with her grey shoe There was something compelling, something quite exhilarating in spanking her.

There was not he slightest hint of anger in me, no desire to hurt or harm, or even to get the better of her, just an overwhelming and childish delight in seeing her bottom get hit by a shoe I was wielding.

I wasn't soft with her. No, I spanked her good, let the shoe hit her quite hard. I knew, I could feel in her body that she felt it. It seemed the right thing to do. Or rather it seemed the thing I wanted to do, the thing I challenged her to accept, to take because of her words.

'Done,' I said, 'on your feet.'

She slowly stood up. Her face was flustered and she stretched her back, taking some deep breaths. She hadn't said anything during the spanking, no cries, no protests, no words at all. Now she stood up and pulled her black knickers up. Then she looked at me.

'How is my face?' she said.

'Still in its place,' I said, 'you look gorgeous.'

'It's time to go.'

'Yes, it's time to go.'

There was tension in the air. I couldn't really read her face. She looked serious, but not angry. She didn't smile, but she didn't look unhappy either.

When we went out into the soft evening, she took my arm and leaned against me.

'You will have to work harder to make me regret my words,' she said and I heard in her voice she was smiling.

'Why?'

'Why what?'

'Why did you let me do it?'

'Because I love you.'

'Oh.'

'Have you wanted to do it for a very long time?'

'I believe I have,' I said.

'That counts for something.'

Then she didn't say more.

I couldn't keep my eyes off her the whole evening. She sparkled like she had never sparkled before. When she moved about a little at the dinner table, I thought of her red bottom and her very black knickers and I almost dropped my spoon in the soup.

Then she looked at me and I knew then that she wasn't angry. She looked at me and I knew she loved me. And in that moment I could have jumped on the table and shouted to the whole world how much I loved her. I knew then that she didn't regret her words.

*

It was a quite formal thing, that party, which he had been invited too. I think he was a bit nervous, thinking that he had to make an impression, to further his career, and all that. It was quite sweet, actually.

At the same I think he was excited, men like to dress up too. I was very nervous but very excited about the idea of being formal and all that. I had found a very lovely black dress. It looked really strict, in a sense, but lovely, in black satin, with a wide skirt.

It didn't look like it but it was really nice to wear, felt soft and good against the skin. I felt good about myself wearing it and when I looked at myself in the mirror I felt that I had changed, become someone else, if only for a night.

When he arrived he was dapper in black tie. There is something special with a man in black tie. He stood taller, moved with more confidence. There was something absolutely irresistible about him and for a moment I was touched by a dreamy sense of everything happening out of time, in some special place, where we were a very gorgeous couple, at least he.

It was easy to allow myself to be childishly, overwhelmingly, and irrevocably in love with him. It was like all what was hidden below the surface, all those aeons of talking and sharing, and lovemaking and touching, all those memories sped to the surface and seemed to sparkle on my skin, to fill my head and permeate my body.

I had to embrace him, I had to be near him. He kissed me, we kissed, and I didn't really want to go to the party. I wanted to be with him, be his, completely, and lose myself in it, forget all that was me, all what I was during the days.

I meant it when I said he could do anything with me. He took it as a challenge. He is a man, after all, that's what men do.

I think he thought he challenged me too, that he wanted to provoke me to go back on my words, to show me I didn't mean it. The truth was that I enjoyed his grip on my hand, how he directed me across his lap. I wanted him to do things to me.

I wasn't even surprised that it was a spanking he had in mind. I knew that about him, that he hid his fascination, could never admit it, not openly. Those things show in tiny details.

I wasn't surprised when I realised what he had in mind, but I hadn't expected it, I hadn't expect it to surface there and then.

I placed myself across his legs with a tingling and overwhelming thrill, the thrill of handing myself over to him, let him decide, let him do what he wanted.

I felt warmth and a spark when he dared to pull my lovely black knickers down. I didn't mind the boldness, the audacity. I didn't mind his undressing me, I was swept away by it, let myself be swept away.

Then came the beating of the heart, the fear of pain. But I handed myself over to that too.

He took one of my new plimsolls to my skin. It was daring, almost insulting. But there and then, he could do it.

The spanking, the pain was the real challenge, the moment when he tried to make me go back on my words. There is pride in me, and it helped me take it, but the pride was not so much in proving him wrong, as to be true to my own conviction, and my own emotions. I bit my lip and took it. I had no other desire, I wanted to take it, with all my heart.

The sense in my body when we came to the dinner was special. My bottom was aching, smarting, still sore, and the warmth seemed to wash through me completely. I felt I was glowing with it and it made my skin hot. I blushed when I walked beside him, a spanked woman, a woman he had just taken over his knee. The thought was outrageous and very, very delightful.

The way he looked at me, the way his gaze seemed to caress me and see through my clothes, it was not just lust or desire, there was something far more beautiful in it too.

I would do it again, any time, for him, with him.