#705) Happy Spanksgiving

(I’ve seen this play-on-words title ALL OVER the place. I’d just like to say that I wrote this piece years ago, just re-edited it now for publication here.)

Like millions of other Americans, my boyfriend and I elected to travel this Thanksgiving (and it felt like they were all at our airport when we were). This signaled both the progress that we’re making in overcoming the Covid-19 virus and the progress in our relationship. I was ready to have my parents and extended family meet John. We’re not engaged or anything, but we are in an exclusive, committed relationship. So, I was ready to face all the prying questions from family, in order for them to meet this special man in my life.
I waited to have “the talk” with John until we were safely in the air on our flight to the home where I grew up.
“You know,” I shared in as low-key a manner as I could, “my parents are going to have us in separate bedrooms for our visit…”
“You’re kidding,” he returned, truly thinking that I was.
“No, having very conservative Midwestern morals and being devout Catholics combined means that they won’t sanction pre-marital sex under their roof.”
“Is it too late to turn this plane around?” he only-half-jokingly asked.
“Come on, it won’t be so bad! It’s only for a few days…”
John raised his hand to catch the attention of a passing flight-attendant, “Ma’am, could we get a blanket here, please?” She opened the overhead bin, got one, and handed it to my lover. He raised the armrest between us and spread the blanket over both of us.
“We’re not going to join the mile-high club, John!”
“I just want to play a little,” he said, looking me in the eye. Under the safety of the obscuring blanket, I let him reach under my skirt and pull my panties down a bit. As he fingered both my hungry holes, I unzipped his fly and extracted his turgid cock and started slowly wanking it. We kissed. He pulled his mouth away from mine to say, “You could’ve told me last night that that lovemaking would be the last we’d have in close to a week!”
“Would it have made any difference? In my opinion, that was the best sex I’ve ever had…” I closed my eyes and tried to kiss him some more. But he wanted to talk.
“The best… ever?”
I nodded. “I love the way we do it! I’m so happy I found such a loving and skillful Dom! I love the way you spank me for foreplay! I love the way you fuck me so hard… in all my holes…” I gave both sets of fingers, which were penetrating me in two different places under the blanket, a firm squeeze. John matched me in being fully aroused, as I stroked his length with one hand and massaged his balls with the other. Rationality returned when I suddenly realized we were on a plane near other passengers, and not back in our bedroom in my apartment. “What are we doing?” I said, sitting up straighter. “We can’t do anything with our excitement…” I whispered.
“Come with me to the lavatory, let’s try…”
“No!” I said with finality. “We’ll do it again, the right way, when we’re back home. In the privacy of my home. I mean in just a couple days. Now, please pull your finger out of my butt!”

When he wants to, John can be very suave and well-mannered. He shook both my parents’ hands when introduced at the door, then did the same to my older sister as she descended the stairs. I could tell that all were impressed. We sat in the living room making small talk. After a while, my parents returned to their favorite topic, grilling me about my future, career plans, etc.

            My sister, Molly, took this opportunity to sit next to John and grill him in sotto voce. Apparently (she told me all this later), she whispered to John, “What are your intentions with my sister?”

            To which John whispered back, “I intend to fuck her just as soon as I can. Are your parents sound sleepers?” He thought this bit of honesty would be disarming.

            The way that Molly’s mouth fell open told John that he’d blundered by assuming that just because Molly was of our generation, she was of our same frame of mind about premarital sex. Molly just blushed, looking aghast. She didn’t answer John’s question.

            But half an hour later, Molly burst into my room to tell me what he’d said. I was in the adjoining bathroom, naked, and ready to step into the shower. With all that’d happened since, I completely forgot that John had spanked me hard as foreplay the night before. My butt was faintly bruised with purple splotches. She postponed spilling the tea to ask, “What happened to your bottom?”

            “What? Oh! Oh, that… I fell down, in the bathtub, just last night…”

            Molly seemed to accept this lie, went on to tell me about what he’d said to her. “And he used that word, ‘fuck’ on top of everything else! Jeanie, he’s such a bad boy! Is he like that when you’re alone…?”

            I just smiled and closed the shower curtain behind me.

            But my tone was different a half an hour after that when, showered and clothed, I confronted John in his bedroom. “You CAN’T say stuff like that! You’re going to be circumspect and we’re going to be celibate this entire visit. Understood?” It was like I was the Dominant one and he was submissive in this relationship. But he nodded.

            Understanding and complying with that demand were two different things, however. At every opportunity, John tried to lure me away to play “slap and tickle.” All the women were cooking in the kitchen Thursday morning when John came in to whisper in my ear.

            “They’re busy, they won’t miss you here. Same with all the guys in the den watching the game. Let’s escape for a drive…”

            “You just want to spank and fuck me,” I whispered back, batting John’s hands away.

            Fortunately, there was a lock on my bedroom door. I was pleasantly full from a sumptuous feast and fast asleep at two A.M. when there was a faint knock on my bedroom door.

            “Go back to bed, John!” I whispered angrily.

            “Let me in… I just want to talk.”

            “You want to seduce me. You’ll wake up the whole house. Go back to bed.”

            “Don’t you love me anymore?” he pleaded.

            “I love you passionately! But this abstinence will be good for us. It’ll make our hearts grow fonder… and our libidos grow hotter.”

            I wouldn’t let John request another blanket from the flight attendant on our return flight. I slapped his hands away on our Uber drive home from the airport. But my mood did a one-eighty as soon as the front door to my apartment was locked behind us.

            “Do you want me to shower first, or do you want to make love right aw…?”

            I didn’t get the question out of my mouth before John picked me up and carried me to our bedroom.


As we were rapidly pulling off our clothes, I said, “Thank you for being so patient… er, well, at least you waited…!”
We were naked. Alone. For the first time in too long. I wanted to kiss my lover, fondle, stoke the fires slowly. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me over his lap. I get spanked a lot in our relationship. Sometimes for legitimate reasons when I’ve messed-up, more often for made-up things when John just wants to dominate me. It’s all consensual and I love it all! But, this was the best spanking, a spanking as an expression of our mutual joy in spanking. The first spank stung more than I thought it would. I guess my butt was out of practice in taking punishment. The second swat made my mouth fall open because it hurt just as much, proving that the first was no fluke. Then they rained down on my poor, jiggling ass. It wasn’t an unrelenting, merciless spanking that I get when punished, it was a sound, stinging session that went on and on, teased my erotism to a boil and then kept me there. Just when I didn’t think I could take anymore, John stopped walloping me to rub my reddened flesh.
“I missed this so much!” he softly confessed.
“Me, too, lover! I’m sorry we had to wait, but isn’t it go…”
He interrupted me again to start the second set of spanks. This was a really superlative spanking; painful but not too punishing, intense in a good way, long and hard! I don’t know what it is about being spanked, but nothing turns me on as much. I’ve always been this way. John has been the same way, just as a Top. As a life-long dominant, he’s gotten to be very expert at reading body language. The way I sprawled across his knee said that he’d taken all the starch out of me, that he’d worn my big ass out. He turned me over on the bed. He didn’t need to be a body language interpreter for what my pussy was screaming. It was swollen, dripping wet, aching for him. He filled my need by pushing his length into me. As I looked deeply into his eyes as we started to rock and roll, I wondered why we didn’t do it in the missionary position more often. This was so sweet, so connected, so romantic. I climaxed. I kissed him with all my being, hoping to convey that I wanted to make love with him like this forever. Instead, he pulled out and flipped me onto my tummy on the bed. I got up on elbows and knees, eager for what was to come. As he pushed into me in the doggy position, I remembered why we don’t make love lovingly; we love to fuck, raunchy and deep and rough. He rode me hard, his hands slapped my bottom to punctuate each withdrawal and his hips slapped into my butt with each vigorous thrust. I was powerless not to come; I gave over to the over-sweeping sensations and climaxed in a series of mind-blowing orgasms. I was still catching my breath when I felt John part my butt cheeks and anoint my rosebud with lube.
“You know where I want you next…” he growled.
I did. I offered my ass up for it wantonly. When I’ve been spanked hard and fucked harder, and am deep in my sub-space, I love taking it up the ass as much as my lover does doing me there. I sighed audibly as he penetrated me, possessed me. I never feel as completely and thoroughly fucked as when I’m getting it anally, when I’m so filled with cock. Having its forbidden reputation makes it all the more right. It being so dirty makes it almost spiritual. We fell into the same rollicking synchronization as before, but now it was most profound.
“I feel it building…” I gasped. “I’m gonna cum in a minute! Cum with me, lover…” and I grabbed his hand in mine and interlaced our fingers. John had done a Herculean job of forestalling his climax to give me all mine, but I wanted him to join me now. He could feel my orgasm start as I gripped him tighter with hand and rectum, as I started to exhort him. “Fuck my ass! Fuck me like your dirty whore! Wear my tight hole out! Fuck me! Oh, God, Oh, fuck!” Normally, I lose my mind when I’m seized by an orgasm, all the more so when it’s an orgasm originating up my butt instead of inside my sex. But this time, I seemed super lucid as a prayer of thanksgiving came to mind. I remember feeling overwhelmingly thankful for life and for my health, for all my senses and this wonderful world to enjoy them in, for a roof over my head, for food to eat, for family and friends, and for this lover, who knows just how to please me.
Our familiar bed was too inviting. Neither of us had the strength or interest in unpacking the dirty clothes in our suitcases, or even showering off the travel grime. We just crawled under the covers and cuddled. Then we discovered that we were jet-lagged and on a different time zone’s schedule, and neither of us could sleep. So we shared pillow-talk, my favorite preoccupation after rousing sex. I feel like my man’s little girl.
“Well,” I said in a coquettish voice, “in my opinion, that’s now our personal best love-making. Think you can surpass it anytime soon?”
“Probably not first thing tomorrow morning,” he replied, and we both laughed.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I returned, and kissed him deeply. If he had it in mind, it would’ve been the perfect time to propose marriage to me. We’d just met my family, they liked him reasonably well. He didn’t. I didn’t really expect him to. “My sister, Molly, thinks you’re a bad boy, trouble, not good for me…”
“Does she?” he smiled, liking that.
“Did you find her attractive? Did you think she’d be a good fuck?”
I was pleased that he didn’t take any time to think about his answer, “Too big a stick up her ass.”
This must have reminded John of sticking it up my ass. He threw back the covers and massaged my red butt, then kissed my cheeks, then kissed my rosebud. I sighed my approval. He dove in deeper. I reached out blindly with my face in a pillow, found his manhood, found that it was growing. I usually refuse to think about sucking John’s cock right after it’s been up my butt, but tonight seemed special. I took his length down my throat. He groaned and hardened. It wouldn’t vie for our personal best sex, or any kind of record-breaker, but I sucked and wanked with all I had within me. I felt his testicles tighten. I pulled him out of my gullet and aimed him right between my eyes. I’m normally not a big fan of facials, either, but I was in a generous mood. He sprayed his load.
“Thank you, Sir!” I managed to say, trying to blink it out of my eyes. Some of the sticky stuff had even shot up my nose. But, at that precious moment, I felt truly thankful for all my blessings.

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