Foolishness since 2007

Foolishness since 2007
Foolishness since 2007

Monday, December 31, 2018

Skinny Dipping

Happy New Year Readers

First a report on Red Panty Month. Bacall got paddle pops every day, except one. I got pops 2 to 4 times a week. I tried to tally the number of days she was Miss Iron Bottom - 12, the days the spanking was a prelude to sex - 4, the days she was sensitive - 6. The rest of the days she just enjoyed a warm bottom for a while.

If it is winter weather where you are, perhaps this will help.

Thursday, December 27, 2018

The Perfect Gift

There are all sorts of spankings. All sorts of reasons for them and some given for no reason at all. This is a fun spanking. A gal wanted to give her girlfriend a present of her being spanked. Ever heard of that?  And her friend is a spanko and she is not.

This clip is 17 minutes. That should be long enough to satisfy anyone.

Notice how she smiles throughout.

The Perfect Gift

Saturday, December 22, 2018

Some Wins And A Few Huge Losses

Recall that we did not favor any candidate for President, Dem or Rep. Trump got in we think because of the disdain and condescension BHO showed to those in the middle of the country. Whatever.

We have been partially pleased with some of the things he has accomplished. We abhor his manner. Same asshat as he was on his RV show two decades ago. He can't keep his mouth shut.

I strongly oppose tariffs. I am not sure if he really likes tariffs or is using them as a club to negotiate. That has been a sore point for me.

This week he really pissed me off, with his wrong-headed announcement of pulling out of Syria. Exiting Syria is only the headline. What it really means is that he rolled over for Turkey. Turkish dictator Erdogan wants to kill Kurds wherever they are. Some are in Syria and have been fighting al-Assad. This will advance al-Assad's dream agenda for Turkey to be a new califate over the region. The Kurds have been killing ISIS not only in Syria but in Iraq. They have been true allies to us. They do not seek territory, but only to protect their enclaves and live in peace. We have fucked the Kurds. We have fucked ourselves also. Our credibility as a counterterrorism partner is shredded. This is a win for Turkey, Russia, and Iran who all have supported al-Assad.

Our exit means violence will escalate in the region. We have spent billions fighting Muslims, thousands of lives have been lost. Now we abandon the fight. Maybe we could never have put a lid on it. But, we never really tried. It was always half measures. Look for increased violence next year. And it will come here.

Thursday, December 20, 2018

Wednesday, December 19, 2018


Diaphanous material is characterized by such fineness of texture as to permit seeing through.

I sent a reader this picture of Bacall wearing her Paddle Me Now And Paddle Me Hard slip. No idea who the guy is.

He replied with this picture. As long as she would be willing to be spanked, I would go a round with her, sans the leather collar.

Here's a recent one of some royal, Violet something or other.

Another gal out and about showing off

Seems that once I started this post, I see all sorts of sheer fabric. 

Tuesday, December 18, 2018

A Holiday Tradition

Bacall started Red Panties And Paddles Days 20+ years ago. At first, it was the 12 days before Christmas. Then we learned the actual 12 Days were after Christmas, so we did both. Now it's the whole month. Every day this month she has gotten her red panties paddled, usually with our red Fli Back paddle - the one she put my stocking our first Christmas. I have not escaped, she has put the wood to me a few times. Most days, it's only 6-8 pops, but twice she received the extended play version to her delight.

At the Fireplace

For example, the other morning I asked how she wanted her paddling. Her request was simple, to be paddled in the foyer bent over the back of a chair so she could look into the living room at the decorations she put up the day before. I gave her a long and hard paddling while she twitched her fanny around and sang made up words to the Chick A Boom tune. Her bottom got hot and so did she. 

Do you have any holiday spanking traditions?

Monday, December 17, 2018

A Reader's Most Memorable Spanking

One August about 30 years ago, Wendy and I had a 35’ trawler chartered on the Bay. We had chartered this boat in previous years and we were due to anchor for the night in our most favorite anchorage on the entire Bay that evening.

We arrived at the anchorage about 3:00 in the afternoon and set our anchor back in the center of the almost round and very private cove.  Surrounded by trees on three sides and open to the main body of the river on the remaining side; there is but one house across the river that can even see our boat. The treed sides of the cove open onto corn fields with no houses in sight anywhere.  Pleasure boat traffic on the river was sporadic as some fellow cruisers headed on up the river to a much more popular anchorage.

We had been to this cove before and it afforded a significant level of privacy especially after dark; much to Wendy’s liking, as she finds outdoor sex particularly exciting and enjoyable.

It was blazing hot and we decided a swim was needed to cool off.  Once in the water, it was not very long before Wendy was groping inside of my swimsuit having already shed and tossed her suit onto the swim platform.  She hauled out and was sitting naked on the swim platform when a small boat of fishermen rounded a bend in the river just in time to get a good look before they were noticed by us.  Wendy made a hasty entry back into the water as the fishermen laughed and waved – what can you do? – waving back was really the only option……..

I teasingly told her that flashing the fishermen was very naughty.  She responded by saying that I was right and that maybe she should be spanked for her brazenness.  

We retired to the cabin where I proceeded to spank her already bare fanny to a pale pink with my hand. Wendy said she had been very naughty and deserved more spanking; I obliged using a paddle which we had brought along. Having turned her bottom a much brighter shade of pink we retired to the master stateroom for other more gentle activities.

Afterward, Wendy playfully smacked my bottom and I told her, “Later”.

Emerging from the cabin, we noted with dismay that another cruising boat had anchored across the river and appeared to be planning to spend the night. I could hear the other couple talking on their boat and knew that they would certainly hear any outdoor paddling activities. This was going to spoil my plans of enjoying an open air paddling and outdoor sex after sundown.  I could tell that Wendy was also disappointed with their appearance. I needed a plan and it did not take long to formulate.

I invented some excuse for the trip and hopped into our inflatable dinghy and rowed the short distance to the small sandy beach at one edge of the cove while Wendy worked on a light dinner.  Once on shore, I went in search of a location and the appropriate tools.  It did not take me long to find a suitable downed tree and, reverting to my childhood, prepare several switches – virtually silent implements but plenty stingy!

Sipping on some wine after dinner, I suggested to Wendy that I had been just as naughty as she had been that afternoon and should also be spanked.  She heartily agreed but commented that we would have to wait due to the presence of the other boat; that she did not want them to hear my paddling.  I told her that there would not be any noise and that everything needed was already waiting in on the beach.

S-o-o-o-o-o, what should I wear to spank my naked husband on the beach?”, she purred.

“Something easy to remove.” was my answer. I knew she was “all in” and that just added to my excitement level.

The level of the wine bottle and darkness both fell.  Wendy went into the cabin and returned wearing a long loose garment which she calls a mumu and announced it was time for me to be spanked – that I should go get myself and the dinghy ready for our trip to the beach. It was still hot and I opted for just a pair of cut-offs knowing that she planned for me to be naked very soon anyway.

While I rowed to the beach she commented that I was “in for it” as her fanny was still stinging from her afternoon paddling – that she was ready to deliver.  I reminded her that she had asked for more, “and you delivered; but now it’s your turn.”

We beached the dinghy and I lead her to the downed tree and handed her the switches.  She had never used a switch before but quickly grasped the concept.  

“Strip.” came her command.  I quickly dropped my pants and when I looked up, she had already shed her mumu.  I was fully erect and she hugged and kissed me while holding my erection with one hand. She said, “This comes later but, for right now, I have a switching to deliver to your naughty little fanny.  Bend over the log.”  I bent over the log and she laid into my bottom with the switch.

Having never either given or received a switching herself, she was a bit more forceful than she intended (I think).  I was squirming as she delivered about 30 strokes; she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely and as Bacall would say, I was Mr. Tough Fanny for her that night.  I was very well striped and as hot as a firecracker, both front and back by the time she stopped and draped her nude body over mine.  

She whispered that she could not stand to wait until we got back to the boat – that she wanted to have sex outdoors in the moonlight – no surprise there! We made our way back to the dinghy where I laid down in the bottom of the boat; she pushed off and promptly impaled herself on me.  We drifted in the cove with her providing just enough rowing to keep us offshore until we both came.

The next morning she was shocked and upset to see that some of my fanny stripes were still visible.  I told her not to worry as they would fade as the day progressed.  They did, but she never switched me again as firmly as she did that night.  We have long since settled on using various paddles and the occasional belt as our spanking implements.

Jim C     

Saturday, December 15, 2018

The Lastest Clueless Socialist

Ex-Bartender, now fruit loop Congresswoman
She "represents" one of our readers.

There seems to be a lot of people poking this woman.

Friday, December 14, 2018

Girls Just Want To Have Fun

Since yesterday's Movie clip post was a dud, here's a makeup post.

Can you imagine guys doing anything like this? No, you can't.

One glass of wine and one camera

Not limited to the young either

The years' girls spend in their rooms dressing up as princesses, striking alluring poses, rubbing one out, etc. are not wasted in adulthood. In a flash, they can pose with friends.

Wednesday, December 12, 2018

Movie Day

There were four short clips. They played fine when I tested them. Now they don't so I removed them.

Monday, December 10, 2018

Bacall's Most Memorable Spanking

I asked Bacall to write about her most memorable spanking for Hermonie's blog. She did not complete it in time to post it there, so here it is.

My memorable spanking took place at the Valley of Fire State Park in Nevada. We had a very private site. No one could see us as we there were high rock walls all around us, except for the narrow opening to get the RV in.

We started off playing outside, where the paddle pops echoed off the rock walls. 

Inside the RV, I enjoy getting on my knees on the sofa and looking out the window at the spectacular scenery and seeing red rocks which is my favorite scenery. When these things take place I get very excited.  I don’t remember which of the several paddles that we had with us were used, but I was Miss Tough Fanny that day.  I can still see/feel this today.

Saturday, December 8, 2018

America Is Addicted to Outrage

Outrage has become the signature emotion of American public life.
People are so used to it—the noise, the flying spittle—that they were pleasantly surprised when Rep.-elect Dan Crenshaw of Texas declined to be incensed. He is the former Navy SEAL who lost an eye in Afghanistan and was mocked—more stupidly than viciously—for his eyepatch by a performer on “Saturday Night Live.” The insult called for outrage, in the usual tit-for-tat. But instead Mr. Crenshaw took it in good humor. He went on “SNL” to accept the performer’s apology. Not everything needs to be treated as an outrage, he said—a grown-up in a moment of grace.
People have been mad as hell for much of the 21st century, starting roughly with the stalemated Bush-Gore election in 2000, followed quickly by 9/11. Fundamentals have been changing fundamentally: marriage, sexual identity, racial politics, geopolitics. Outrage flourishes also because of the rise of social media—the endless electronic brawl—and because it plays so well on our screens. Cable news draws pictures in crayon, in bold primary colors that turn politics into cartoons. On the left, “stay woke” means “stay outraged.” Trumpians want to “lock her up” or “build a wall.” Outrage is reductive, easy to understand. It is an idiom of childhood—a throwback even to the terrible twos.
The various tribes have broken off negotiations with all differing points of view. They excuse themselves from self-doubt and abandon the idea of anything so weak as compromise or, God forbid, ambivalence: No other perspective could possibly be valid. Americans have lost tolerance for the 51%-to-49% judgment call, even though that’s about the margin of their disagreement on almost everything. People give themselves over to the pleasures of self-righteousness and self-importance that come with being wronged when you know you’re in the right. Among the civic emotions, outrage is a beast of the prime; to harness outrage is to discover fire.
 healthy society reserves its outrage for special occasions: Pearl Harbor, say, or the church bombing in Birmingham, Ala., that killed four girls. But in the 21st century, special occasions—mass shootings and other random eruptions of the id—occur regularly. They have turned outrage into a ragged, all-purpose national reflex, with side effects of disgust and despair.
Outrage often emerges when an anecdote about a particular drama becomes generalized into a hashtag, as when that masterpiece of unshaven phallocratic beastliness Harvey Weinstein was dragged before the public gaze, and, in an instant, the #MeToo movement arose, drawing forth the squalid secrets of other famous men. After many a summer dies the swine. But the greatest casualty of outrage may be judgment itself. It’s dangerous when indignation abstracts itself, as when charges of sexual misconduct become generalized in phrases like “toxic masculinity,” which may condemn all men regardless of facts. They are guilty one way or another. If you cannot convict a man of rape, then you may get him for “mansplaining.”
Pretty soon absolutely everything becomes an outrage. Anything that isn’t an outrage is Jeb Bush. Complex interactions of outrage from both parties’ bases conjured up the presidency of Donald Trump, who is the mighty Wurlitzer of the art form.
Outrage seems strenuous enough, but in truth it is a lazy habit—spontaneous, fatuous and naive. Organizing a lynch mob is easier—with a surer, immediate and dramatic reward—than conducting a fair trial, which requires the brains and patience of an adult. (The inner terror of Trumpians is that Robert Mueller is a grown-up with brains and patience.) Outrage presents itself as an assertion of conscience, but in practice it mostly bypasses conscience and judgment, and goes straight to self-righteous rage, by way of self-pity.
Outrage may be justified, of course, and redress long overdue. Just as a dose of morphine may be appropriate to help a patient in extreme pain, so with outrage. But like morphine, outrage is widely abused—and addictive. It may wind up becoming frivolous or fraudulent, as in all those “triggers” and “microaggressions.”
Is outrage now an American entitlement, and a permanent state of mind? Black Americans are more entitled to outrage than most, their grievances embedded in history. Are Asian-Americans entitled to be outraged? Some are making that case in their lawsuit over Harvard’s admissions practices—an argument that, in turn, collides with the counterclaims of African-American outrage. Are gay people entitled to be outraged? Are women entitled to be outraged? Who isn’t entitled to be outraged? (White men?)
There is something sinister and corrupt—Maoist—in the habit of assigning people to categories. That was the besetting sin of the 20th century; it was the way of genocide. As people are again consigned to shallow, mutually exclusive categories in this century, it is as if we learned nothing.
A society that goes on in this way will exhaust itself. Sometimes, the outrage is a Newtonian response to the truly outrageous; outrage may have its vision of social justice. But, like so much else today, it has gotten to be a racket. The coin of anger is debased. Indignation has become a meme—not an authentic political or moral reaction to facts in a serious world, but rather a reflex, a kind of irresponsible playacting, or worse, a mania. When everyone is outraged, then real grievances lose their meaning, and the endless indulgence of outrage becomes, objectively, immoral.
Mr. Morrow, a senior fellow at the Ethics and Public Policy Center, is a former essayist for Time.

Thursday, December 6, 2018

Callipygous Bottoms

Delightful - Puts Me In Boat Buying Mood

Nice Cheeks With Photo Shopped Hair Brush

Classic Pose

Fall Foliage

Wednesday, December 5, 2018

Cookie Day


Mix together:
3 boxes Confection sugar
1 lb butter
2 lbs peanut butter
form into balls

Melt in a double boiler:
2 packages chocolate chips
1 block paraffin

Dip balls in chocolate, leaving small part on top uncovered so it will look like a Buckeye Nut.

Makes about 100.
They can be frozen for up to six months.

More recipes at these fine blogs:

Tuesday, December 4, 2018

On Bacall

Back When We Were Cool - Yeah Right

Regular readers know that Bacall is still recovering from foot surgery. It's been a long slog, 10 weeks down, 2 weeks until she is out of the boot.

We did not have any play for two months, but it's getting better now. I gave her a long spanking last Friday. A few minutes ago, she saw me undressed ready for the shower and decided that naked bottoms get paddled. She gave me four pops with the Myrtlewood paddle she was having a hard time taking last Friday. I, of course, demanded equal time.

Now the real reason for sharing this little event. She was in the bedroom to get some red panties, advising me that it's Christmas. It's only December 2, but I think she has enough red panties to last until Christmas without repeating. So it's good times a coming, she will be getting pops until Christmas. Then it's the 12 Days of Advent.

Monday morning - She got half dressed to go to her volunteer job. She made sure I saw her wearing red panties. When she finished her coffee and got up to finish dressing, I told her I would service her. She gave the usual faux protests, while I got her paddle. I gave her four pops and pressed myself to her bottom. That got her hot, so I continued by rubbing her clit. Instant orgasm. Four more pops and more rubbing and she was ready for the day.