Think Carefully 3

Reasonable Limits

By Jonathan Quincy Graves

{ Note: This is the third installment of this story. If you have not read the previous chapters, I recommend you do so. The first chapter can be found here: Think Carefully. }

“Wow! I slept great last night!” Gloria announced Friday morning. “How about you?”

“Not so much,” I said.

“Oh, that’s right. You usually sleep on your back. Find that position a little… uncomfortable, did you? It’s just as well, dear. I read recently that sleeping on your left side was the most healthful position. Getting you off of your back at nights will have the additional benefit of cutting back on your snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“Yeah, right. You sound like a bear in rut. Smile, dear. Last night you got the first installment of what you asked for, and what you told me you’ve wanted for a very long time. Go put on the coffee while I put on my face.”

I trudged downstairs and put on a small pot—just enough to hold us over until we each reached the unlimited supply at our places of business. Out of sight from my wife, I rubbed my bottom with both hands. It still felt a little bruised, but I had to admit, it was mostly recovered. Gloria was right about one thing; she did give me what I asked for—what I dreamed of for as long as I can remember. Reliving the memory of the hand-spanking over her lap caused my soldier to rise. Even the over-the-knee hairbrushing came right from one of my cherished fantasies. I just wish she had been a little less enthusiastic with that damned brush. And forced to eat the cream pie I’d just made? Definitely not one of my fantasies.

My attitude was more upbeat as I climbed up the stairs to get dressed for the day. It was Friday, after all. One more day ‘til the weekend. I’d have a chance then to sit down with Gloria and discuss her response to my request for corporal punishment. We needed to reach a mutual understanding of the how and how much of this new regimen. Set some limits. I’d have to be careful. After all the years of wishing, I did not want to turn her off to the subject when I’d just got her started.

I was pulling up my pants when Gloria came out of the bathroom and gave me a hard slap to my ass in passing, eliciting a yelp from me in reaction.

“That was fun last night,” she said. “I enjoyed spanking your little red bottom much more than I expected to. You’ll be pleased to learn that I love your request for spankings, and I plan to grant it often, going forward.”

I smiled, not sure how to respond to this generous commitment by my wife. Apparently, I needn’t worry about turning Gloria off the subject of spanking by entering a discussion with her about reasonable limits.

After work that evening, I picked up a pizza for dinner on my way home. By the time we get to the end of a long week at work, neither of us is usually in the mood to cook. So, after coordinating with Gloria, I often stop for pizza, fried chicken, or Thai food.

Gloria beat me home and was already changed out of her work clothes. She has a pair of jeans she looks great in, and she’d put on a T-shirt that shows off her breasts. Normally, she loses the bra for the weekend, but it was still doing its duty, lifting and separating as the old Platex commercial used to say. She had not scrubbed off her makeup, and I’m sure I caught a whiff of perfume as I passed her to go up and change before dinner.

I pondered my wife’s actions as I changed into a clean pair of sweats. Normally, I might put on my grungy old jeans and a T-shirt. Disreputable clothing on a Friday evening is my way of saying: “Screw you, world, I’m off for the weekend.” But with Gloria looking the way she does, I didn’t want to carry the act too far. The sweats are a compromise. Which brought me back to wondering why Gloria had gone to the trouble of looking so good on a Friday evening.

Over my third piece of pizza, I said, “You look especially nice this evening. Are we expecting company later?”

“No, I just wanted to look nice for my husband. Thank you for noticing.”

“You’re welcome.” That’s new, I thought. Related to our new spanking agreement? Speaking of which, now might be the time…

“I enjoyed parts of last night,” I said. “I admit I wasn’t too keen on eating you out after I came. And before you say anything,” I said, forestalling her saying anything, “I know I came too soon, and I apologized for that. I was wound up higher than normal when we started. It won’t happen again.” Gloria chuckled at that, and I quickly went on. “The hand-spanking afterward was wonderful, but I think you got a little carried away with the hairbrush. Maybe we should talk about it—establish reasonable limits.”

“You’re right,” Gloria said, “we do need to discuss this new element in our relationship. Not about limits, though. According to our agreement—you might want to review Section I again—it’s completely up to me to determine reasonable limits.”

Over dinner, she’d passed me a copy of the signed agreement she’d run at her office, along with a plate holding my first wedge of pizza. I resolved to reread it later.

“We’ve been married long enough. I can judge what you can handle and what you can’t. I did, however, promise to establish some rules you must live by to avoid any serious punishment spankings. Let’s do that tomorrow morning. I’ve invited Marissa to drop by for brunch tomorrow. We’ll write down some guidelines for you to follow before she gets here, and she can help us with the wording and such.”

“Is that necessary? I’m really not comfortable with a woman I barely know being involved with our intimate life together.”

“She’s been very helpful so far,” Gloria said. “I would not have known what to do with your request for corporal punishment without her input. She’s probably got more experience in this area than you and I put together.” She chuckled. “Given spanking had never occurred to me, and your experience was strictly in your imagination, her actual knowledge must be far greater. At any rate, I expect her about eleven o’clock tomorrow.

“If you’re done with your pizza, why don’t we clean up this mess and adjourn to the bedroom? I had naughty thoughts about last night all day today in the office,” she said with a grin, “and I’m ready for a repeat.”

“Okay, but no eating cream pies, and take it easy with that damned brush.”

“We’ll see.”

In our bedroom, Gloria said, “Let’s do things a little differently tonight. Why don’t you strip, and I’ll take you over my knee for a friendly little hand-spanking first.”

Jonny was already rising as I followed Gloria up the stairs, and he jumped the rest of the way to attention at her words.

I stripped as requested, trying not to hurry so that she might enjoy the show. Which is to say, I managed to not rip any clothing in my rush to get out of it. Gloria stood and watched, her arms crossed beneath her breasts, wearing a Mona Lisa smile.

When I was naked, she turned her back to me and said, “Unhook my bra, please.”

I rucked up her T-shirt and unhooked the straps.

“Thank you,” she said. “That’s much better.” She sat on the side of the bed, and did what I had only seen before in the movie “Flash Dance,” where Jennifer Beals as Alex draws her arm into her sleeve, runs it back out again, and pulls her bra out and down the other arm. It was like a magic trick. Michael Nouri (as Nick, her boss and love interest) watches dumbstruck. It was so cool in the movie, and just as cool when Gloria did it. Like Nick, I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t. The bra she revealed was not the usual workday plain white, but black and lacey.

Gloria grinned (she knows I like that movie, even though it is a chick flick), patted her lap, and said, “Over you go, young man.”

I sprawled across Gloria’s lap as she took hold of my cock and positioned it between her jeans-clad thighs.

“You’d better control that little thing tonight,” she said, “if you don’t want another session with my hairbrush.”

“Little!” I objected. I was as big and hard as I ever get.

“I’ve seen bigger,” she said and smacked my ass before I could pursue that topic further.

Gloria set up a rhythm, going side to side, moving up and down, but every minute or so (a long time when being spanked), she’d break it and concentrate on one spot before resuming the previous pattern.

Her spanking hand on my ass stung and generated significant heat. I tried to focus on that fire in my ass, rather than the feel of Gloria’s thighs gripping my erection, but it was not easy. I had to consciously not buck or squirm under her spanks. The friction against my member when I moved threatened to tip me over the top. After Gloria’s warning and gratuitous comment about my penis’ size, I did not want to cum all over her jeans. A passing, unbidden thought came to mind: Will she make me lick it off her jeans if I squirt?

I managed to hold on, and Gloria finally stopped. “I think your ass, and I’m sure my hand, is hot enough for now,” she said. “I trust that fell within your ‘reasonable limits’ for a play spanking. Up you get and kneel on the floor in front of me.” As I did, she pulled her T-shirt off, revealing her breasts. Even at our age, Gloria has nicely formed breasts with not much sag.

“Take off my shoes and help me with these jeans.” She undid her belt and rose up when I pulled her jeans below her ass and off her legs. “These too,” she said, putting her thumbs in the waistband of her black lace panties and starting them down. I finished what she started.

Nude, she said, “There’s no sense even pretending you could control yourself if I let you fuck me now.” She scooted to the edge of the mattress, spread her knees, said, “You know what to do,” and I did.

After her first orgasm, Gloria gripped my hair in her hands and moved my mouth back a few inches. She bent over me, kissed the top of my head, and said, “Give me a minute.” Before half that minute passed, she pulled my face back to her pussy.

Once I’d given Gloria three or four orgasms (a personal record?), she lay back and said, “Come to me, John.”

I stood and plunged to her depths. My toes in the nap of the carpet gave me additional leverage, and I fucked her hard. She was so wet, penetration was not a problem. I fucked her hard, but as with the previous night, I did not fuck her for very long. She felt so good enveloping my cock, and my erection had been like granite since she first told me to strip.

Gloria held me to her and wrapped her legs around mine so I could not withdraw. “That was pretty quick, John,” she giggled. “Should I make you eat me out, then paddle your ass with my hairbrush?”

I was still trying to regain my breath after what was the best sex we’d enjoyed in years, so could not respond immediately. She saved me the effort by saying, “Not tonight. I’m exhausted. But I owe you a hairbrushing. You’d better be a very good boy tomorrow.”

END of Part 3

The story continues with: Think Carefully 4

Copyright © 2023 by Jonathan Quincy Graves. All rights reserved.  Please do not repost or use for any commercial purpose without written approval from the author.

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