A Birthday Reversal

By Jonathan Quincy Graves

“I want to spank you for your birthday tomorrow,” I said, breaking the silence late the evening before my wife turned thirty-two.

After a noticeable pause, she lowered her book and said, “Really? What gave you this idea?”

“Well,” I answered, “I’ve been reading about it on the internet, and it sounds like fun, and we’ve been talking about spicing up our sex life. This might be just the thing. Don’t you think it would be fun?”

“I’m sure it would… for one of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it seems to me the spanker is likely to enjoy it much more than the one being spanked, don’t you think?”

“Well…”

“Besides, weren’t you taught as a young man that it was not manly to strike a woman?”

“Yes, but consensual spanking is supposed to be just for fun.”

“How did you plan to do it? Were you going to use the over-the-knee position, traditional for disciplining children? And what did you imagine I’d be wearing?”

“Well, yes. I’m sure they usually give birthday spankings OTK, as they say, and a spanking wouldn’t be a spanking if it wasn’t delivered to the bare bottom,” I answered with a grin.

“Sounds a little humiliating, being taken over one’s knee and spanked like a naughty child. Is that supposed to be part of the fun?”

“Maybe this was not such a good idea,” I said, sensing the obvious trend of her questions. “If you don’t think you could get into it, perhaps we should forget the whole thing. Adult spankings should be consensual, after all. I just thought…”

“No,” she said thoughtfully, closing the book in her lap and placing it on the end table, “you might be right, it might be fun. Consensual spanking would certainly add spice to our sex life. I assume you plan to engage in more traditional sexual activities after we complete the spanking?”

“Absolutely!” I responded with considerable enthusiasm.

“And beating your wife would put you in the mood to dump her on the bed and jump her bones? Doesn’t sound very respectful of your life-mate, not very… chivalrous, does it?”

“Okay, I get your point. Forget I brought up the whole idea,” I said with some disappointment. “We can celebrate your birthday the way we always do. Where would you like to go for dinner tomorrow night?” I asked, resigned to going on with life as usual.

“Don’t give up so easily,” she laughed. “Your basic idea is good. It wouldn’t hurt to shake things up, and introducing spanking to our relationship would do that. It’s just that you shouldn’t be so quick to abandon the high ideals your parents taught you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, now really confused. How is it, I wondered, when we have these discussions, they never go quite the way I had pictured?

“Well,” she said, looking more intent, “you agreed your mother raised you to never strike a woman, and I’m sure she never imagined you would want to hit your wife in ‘fun’.”

“No, of course not, but…”

“And I’m sure the same applies to humiliating another person. Surely you weren’t raised to believe that was suitable for a loving relationship.”

“Now you’ve got me confused,” I admitted in exasperation. “First, you say I shouldn’t spank you because it is not manly for a man to strike or humiliate a woman. Then, you seem to agree spanking would spice up our sex life. I don’t know how I am supposed to respond to these obviously conflicting positions.”

“You’re just confuzzelled because it’s past our bedtime,” she said with a grin. “Let’s both pretend a spanking has already taken place and see what that does for us in the bedroom. Meet you there in five minutes… and be naked.”

~~~<< >>~~~

“Morning,” I said, rolling over and taking the love of my life in my arms. “That was great last night,” I murmured, nuzzling her neck.

“Yes, it was,” she agreed, kissing me on the forehead. “Although, you were a little fast off the mark, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, maybe the first time,” I answered, embarrassed (No man wants to be labeled as a “premie.”), “but you must admit it didn’t take me long to recover. And you seemed to enjoy the results.”

“Oh, you noticed my moaning and thrashing, did you? Yes dear, you were very manly in bed last night, once you got your act together.”

“You’re not going to let me forget my being a little quick, are you?”

“Now don’t get all defensive,” she laughed. “It seems the imagery of having my naked bottom draped across your lap for you to redden to your heart’s content was more than you could handle.”

“Well, yeah,” I chuckled, “that might have had something to do with it. You do have a glorious bottom.”

“Why thank you, kind sir, and I might add, so do you, in a manly way. Quite a spankable bottom, actually.”

“So, what do you think? Would you like to give real spankings a try? I mean, if fantasizing about spanking affects us as it did last night, imagine what the real thing would do. What do you say? It is your birthday now and there are ancient traditions to uphold.”

She slid her long fingers down my body and took hold of me. I was frankly surprised at my morning wood, given the workout it got the previous night, but I was not disappointed with her reaction to it.

“Yes, it is my birthday,” she responded, slowly stroking, “and yes, the ‘spanking thing’ would indeed be fun this morning. There are a few things bothering me, though.”

“And what might those be?” I whispered, kissing the tops of her breasts.

“Well… judging by last night, thoughts of spanking seem to excite you beyond your ability to maintain control. It would be a shame to waste this magnificent specimen,” she added, giving me a not quite painful squeeze. “Plus, it’s my birthday. Isn’t the birthday girl supposed to get her wish on her special day?”

“Well, yes,” I responded, lifting one magnificent and already hard nipple to my lips. “What are you wishing for this morning?”

“I’m wishing,” she answered, kissing the top of my head and continuing her gentle ministrations down below, “that instead of being spanked, I be the one to administer the spanking.”

“I don’t think we could do that,” I answered, after suckling for a couple of heart beats. She’d arched her back in response, and my hand found its way down to her center, which was already wet. So, I knew I was getting to her. “It would grossly violate tradition, after all.”

“On the other hand,” she retorted, scooting away from me, “if I did the spanking, your manly status would be preserved—no one could accuse you of striking a woman. As for the humiliation of being placed in the juvenile, over-the-knee position, since it was your idea in the first place, and since I know you would never want to humiliate your wife, it must follow you would not find it humiliating to assume that position yourself. Plus,” she added swinging her long legs off the side of the bed and sitting up straight on the edge, “I’ll bet if I do it properly, I can deflate your oh-so-proud friend there, so he won’t fire his wad prematurely when we move on to the next item on this morning’s agenda.

“Come on, cowboy,” she finished, patting her gorgeous, naked thigh and giving me a lascivious smirk. “Assume the position. Unless you feel you are not man enough to take a little smack-bottom from the delicate hand of your dainty little wife.”

Delicate, dainty, and little are not adjectives I normally associate with my loving wife. She’s only three inches shorter than I am, and while it’s true she does not carry much excess weight, that is thanks largely to the time she spends in the gym. I’ve seen her doing the heavy work in our garden and spring cleaning—let’s just say she has never needed my help to flip the mattress on our queen-sized bed.

In all honesty, I had to admit she’d scored a reversal and well and truly pinned me. I wrestled in high school and was considered pretty good, but I never saw this coming. Starting right from the beginning the night before, she’d shifted the momentum with the whole: never-hit-a-woman thing; thrown me off balance with the: you-wouldn’t-humiliate-your-wife angle; finished the escape with the: let’s-imagine-we-did-it-and-have-sex ploy, and when I’d popped off early, she’d seized control and scored the point.

Now the question was, am I man enough to acknowledge the takedown? Well crap, it is her birthday, and besides, it might even be fun. And, of course, there was that promise of the “next item on this morning’s agenda” to consider.

“You win.” I tapped out. Looking more than a little sheepish, I’m sure, I scooted across the bed and placed myself in the time-honored position. I was careful to insert my hardness between her lovely thighs where I figured it would do the most good… for me, that is.

“Ooh,” she crooned, stroking and cupping my nether cheeks, “I was right. This is a very spankable bottom. I will really enjoy this birthday.” She punctuated her last statement by raising her hand and giving me a smack. This was soon matched by another smack to the other cheek.

She rubbed a bit and commented, “So vulnerable. Even those little pats have raised some color. Imagine how red I can make it if I try harder.”

My wife raised her hand again, this time a little higher, and brought it back down, this time a little harder. That smack got my attention. It didn’t hurt that much, but it was certainly louder, and there was a definite residual sting involved. I jerked in response and emitted a groan associated as much with the motion of my hard member sliding between her firm thighs as with the actual effect on my bottom.

Apparently pleased with my reaction, my wife smacked me again even harder. Within half a dozen spanks, she really got into it, spanking nearly as hard as she could, at a quick, steady pace. The undulations of my torso against her naked thigh provided me with more than enough distraction, at first, but after a dozen firm smacks, I was having trouble keeping up. My attention was gradually shifting from the joy in front to the distress in back.

My wife kept up her steady pace for several minutes, and my backside was definitely feeling the heat. The squirming I did in response was now much more related to avoidance than it was to self-pleasure. In fact, had I been able to pay any attention to my front at that point, I would have been startled to find my “oh-so-proud friend”, as she had named it, was wholly and truly deflated.

Finally, I cried out, “Hey! Stop! Wait a minute! This was supposed to be a birthday spanking. This is only your thirty-second birthday; I’m sure we’ve gone way past that. Can we stop now? I’m ready to move on to something more pleasurable.”

“Oh, I am sorry, dear. Have we passed the thirty-two-spank point? I wasn’t counting. And don’t you find this pleasurable? I know I am enjoying it. You wouldn’t believe the color I’m raising in this cute little bottom of yours, and the way it cringes and bounces with each spank is… magical.

“But you’re right, a birthday spanking should be just one for each year, plus one to grow on, of course. Since neither one of us has been keeping count, I guess we will have to start over at one and do a better job of paying attention this time.”

My wife followed her own advice, delivering each spank more slowly with resounding force and effect, and counting each one out loud. I struggled to stay in position on her lap through the entire count, determined to show myself to be manly enough to endure the full treatment. I kicked a bit, waving my feet in the air, but only a little moisture rose to my eyes to belie my demonstration of masculinity. Fortunately, she couldn’t see that. And besides, everyone gets the sniffles now and then.

Number thirty-three (One hundred thirty-three?) was an especially hard spank, and a yelp escaped my lips, but the following stroking of my unbelievably hot bottom provided a measure of post-spanking relief.

“You were right, my darling,” she said after a few minutes of soothing and cupping my burning flesh while I lay limply over her thighs. “That really added some spice. I am as hot as I have ever been in my life. We will definitely do this again. Oh, but your poor friend seems to have deserted us,” she added, dipping her fingers between my legs to find my withered member. “Ah well, I’m sure he’ll make an appearance later, and I guess we won’t have to worry about him being too impetuous this morning, will we? In the meantime,” she continued, helping me off her lap and onto my knees in front of her, “we’ll have to find a temporary substitute.”

She grinned at me, and scooting to the edge of the bed, spread her knees.

END

Copyright © 2015 by Jonathan Quincy Graves All rights reserved. Please do not repost or use for any commercial purpose without written approval from the author.

Revised July 2022

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