The paddling's continue. We have not mentioned our personal lives since before Christmas. We made it through 11 of the 12 days of Christmas popping each other with the Santa Spoon. We were out of town on the 12th day. We had the spoon with us. We just forgot. Maybe next year we will have a perfect record?
I don’t see the need to write about each time we play. If either of us could write in a titillating manner, then maybe yes.
Yesterday, I asked Becall for the whole nine yards. This morning she gave it to me. First, 20 stingers with the batten on my thighs. Next, 10 over her lap with the scorchy red paddle. Then I was bent over the bed for 8 with the principal’s paddle. Finally, she singed me with a dozen of the put-a-fire-in-your-bottom pine paddle.
We then engaged in wild monkey sex. Or maybe it was crazed ferret sex. We are not real sure of the differences. Whatever, this afternoon the marks are gone, but the memory remains. I feel satisfied.