My Uncle Dan is only ten years older than me. He is my mother's youngest brother. He babysat me many times when I was a young girl. One time when I was about eleven years old I had aggravated him so badly that he threatened to take me "over his knee for an old fashion bare bottom spanking."
I laughed at him saying. "You wouldn't dare!"
But he did dare. He pulled me onto his lap, pulling down my pajama bottoms, slapping my ass once hard. "I don't dare, do I?" He laughed as he pulled my little white panties down to my knees exposing my bare behind." I don't remember how many times he spanked my bottom but I do remember that it hurt me enough that I always listened to him after that. Just the threat of a spanking would make me obey him.
That was my first spanking. My parents never had never punished me that way. They usually scolded me and took away privileges. Uncle Dan never spanked me again while he babysat me but when he looked at me, his little smile on his handsome face, I knew he was thinking about that time I was over his lap with my bare bottom exposed to him.
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When I turned 15, my mother sat me down and told me something that shocked me, "Your father did not die in an accident—he was murdered!"
I asked, "Who did it mom?"
"The police were unable to find a suspect, so it's what's called a cold case now, Ray," she said, "It's not likely to be solved unless someone already imprisoned tells a cellmate."
I practically screamed, "Why have you waited to tell me this?"
"I wanted you old enough to understand," was her ... explanation.
"Well I DON'T," I yelled, going to my room and slamming the door.
There was a knock and I said, "Go Away!"
"It's Susan, your sister," she said.
I wasn't mad at her ... yet, so I said, "Come in."
"Fucking morons!" Kirsten thought.
At the door to the chemistry room, two of her classmates Bill Taylor and Scott Vance, or Jackass #1 and Jackass #2 as she thought of them, were waiting as usual. The pair of morons partially blocked the class's doorway forcing all the girls entering to pass between them, giving the boys the opportunity to goose them or fondle them in some manner.
As Kirsten tried to enter Scott bumped into her side shoving her towards Bill who, on the pretext of helping her, reached out his hand and squeezed her breast. Anticipating this crude assault, Kirsten elbowed him in the stomach and for good measure kicked Jackass #2 in the ankle.
"Hands off pervert. Try that again and you'll be singing Soprano for the rest of your worthless life."
It started completely by accident.
I was walking from the garage through the kitchen and on my way to the bathroom and as I passed by my older sister Micah who happened to be bent over moving her clothes from the washer and into the dryer, for no reason at all and with no premeditation, I smacked her big ass. However, my hand didn't land on either cheek; it landed almost perfectly in the middle.
Micah emitted an 'Ooof' and as she was straightening up quickly, she bumped the back of her head on the upper rim of the dryer's door. She yelped with pain and it seemed to have stopped her from chasing after me.
I was cautious coming back from the bathroom to resume working on my bike in the garage. But, when I passed her again, she turned around quickly but didn't say anything. She only gave me a hurt look. I didn't give it much thought at the time and chalked my luck to the pain in her head which stopped her from retaliating.
I've always enjoyed family reunions, specifically when my older sister Jenny attended. See, we've been shameless lovers since she turned seventeen and I fifteen and lived in the same house. A couple of years later, she went to college and two years after that it was my turn to leave the nest. But we always 'got together' whenever we could, and the most time we got were during these frequent (thank god) family reunions.
The last time we were together, she surprised me by asking if I'd ever thought about mom in an unmotherly way.
Up until her question, I hadn't thought about it, but as soon as Jenny put that nasty thought in my mind, I started looking at mom in an entirely different manner. The next morning when our family gathered for breakfast, I couldn't help ogling mom.
What made things worse that morning was the fact that mom wore a robe that revealed more than enough of her abundant cleavage to give me a raging hard-on. During breakfest, she often caught me staring in her direction, and her look back seemed to say, 'I know what you want, are you crazy enough to do something about it?'
It was already late afternoon, and Beth Anderson knew she was going to be late for her appointment. She had totally miscalculated how far the Thompson residence was from the city, and now, as she drove along the rural, two-lane highway, she wondered if she would have to stop at a motel for the night on the way back.
Beth had worked for the social services agency for six months and had handled a variety of cases but never a sexual abuse incident. The person who normally took care of such cases was on vacation, and Beth had agreed to take it. Now, she wondered if it was such a good idea.
When she first read the case report the previous day, she actually found herself becoming aroused and had to make a deliberate effort to bring herself back to the reality of what she was supposed to be doing. The girl, Diane Thompson, had apparently told someone that she and her stepfather had been having sexual intercourse for the past four years — ever since she was 12. The story quickly was reported to the authorities. It wasn't so much the fact that the pair had been having sex that turned Beth on so, as it was the graphic descriptions the girl provided. And it wasn't just vaginal intercourse, either.
As she maneuvered the state car along the curvy road, Beth replayed in her mind the contents of the report lying beside her on the seat. Diane had told how her stepfather first made her suck his cock and swallow his semen. She described vividly the slightly off-white color of his juice, its heat, richness and thick odor, and the enormous quantity he produced each time he ejaculated.
Jenny Marie Jenkins felt that her life was finally starting to look up. Her husband had finally opened his own architectural business and was on the edge of taking off. She had worked so many long hours grading papers, making out lesson plans and paying for class supplies the school didn't have money for, that she was really getting sick of teaching her high school classes. She had spent her summers working on her master's just to be able to keep her teaching certificate.
All this time, her husband had been working for one of the best firms in New York for almost no credit. He had constantly designed award winning designs that his boss had won numerous prizes for. Finally, in a fit of anger and frustration, he had quit in order to open his own office.
Office space in New York was draining Jenny's account. If not for her modest inheritance from her parents, it would have been impossible; but she believed in her husband and had gone all out to help. Joe had done a number of very small commissions that barely broke even when they were done. Never-the-less, he had won some recognition for the design of several small homes. He just never got the big enough break that would set them on easy street.
Jenny's inheritance was just about gone. The bills for engineering on the last project were coming due. The landlord was giving Joe several letters that their rent was way past due.
Joe had called her to say that he was meeting a client for dinner and he was hoping that she could join them. The news was not new. He had brought the subject up a number of times. Jenny was willing to do whatever it would take for Joe's success, but did not know enough about architecture to be of much help.