This is the first installment of an experiment. I’m going to try organizing some posts around a theme. Today’s is the alliteratively titled, Steamy Sunday, just a ‘quick write exercise’ for me around a topic. I hope you enjoy! Actually, I hope this story gets you hot and bothered!
Marge Svenson had to give credit to her husband; adding this sauna to their house was genius. Especially on bitter cold days like today, she loved to get into the little wooden room and just bake, sweat all the toxins of the day out. She spread her towel out on the bench and stretched out, feeling the sweat trickle off her body sensually, from the back of her neck, her arm pits of course, tickling as the beads dripped off her big bottom down into the crevice of her crotch. She heard her husband enter the house, home from work, and hoped that he’d be quiet; the babies were finally asleep in the nursery. Not ten minutes later, he enter the sauna wearing only a towel around his waist. He spread it out next to hers.
They pecked a brief kiss before she solicited, “How was your day, Eric?”
“Good, and yours?”
The girls were fussy all day, but not bad. Dinner’s in the oven, will be ready in about forty-five minutes…”
“We have time. Do you want to…” That was all that was needed. Her mouth was on his as his big hands massaged the tension from her shoulders for a moment. Then she sat on his lap facing him, skewering herself like a shishkebob.
“God, you feel good, inside me,” Marge groaned as she ground herself into him.
Eric reached for the wooden ladle, poured some water on the rocks to make them sizzle like the couple was, and gave her rump a sound swat with it before replacing it back in the bucket. He grunted his assent as they both recalled separately and silently, but simultaneously, first making love in here. They’d read the literature, doctors advise against strenuous activity or exercise in a sauna, but the young couple could not resist.
(This is a bizarre, staged photo! Why wear high-heeled shoes in a sauna? Why have a glass bowl of water that could get hot enough to burn if touched, when a wooden bucket, what used to be called a “piggin” works so well? But, back to the story…)
Marjorie had stood up in front of her husband, ladled a big dipper of water onto the rocks, then smilingly given her ass a smart smack with the wooden spoon. Eric had wrestled the ladle from her grasp, turned her over his knee, and given her a butt-full of wallops. The love-making had followed naturally after that, and a routine was established. From there, they experimented with branches from every tree in the neighborhood, willows (which were too pliable), hickory (good for a disciplinary whipping, but not so much for a stimulating switching), ash, elm, on and on. They finally resorted to contacting their old neighbors up in Minnesota, and had the Finnelson’s send down a bundle of birch branches. The Svenson’s found that these worked far the best. But the Finnelson’s became curious when the fourth bundle was requested, so took a brief vacation drive down to visit their old friends with the special delivery. Eric told Jon about the use he was putting the birches to across Marge’s bottom, encouraged his best friend to try it with his wife Trudy.
This was the result. Jon and Trudy, like Eric and Marge found the resulting sauna sex invigorating. At dinner that night, Jon stood up and recited a verse from memory.
"A toast to all Nordics, my son for the great things that they have done. Be they Swedish or Finn they all steam in bare skin, yes, it's true, blonds do have more fun!"
Marge wondered if the bright lights in their sauna might have helped promote fertility during the shorter winter days.
Regardless of the why, she soon discovered that she was pregnant, with triplets no less!
Flash forward eighteen years. The triplets, Heidi, Hilda, and Helga are freshmen in college. Boyfriends regard it as a marvelous treat when invited to come home for a sauna with any of the three girls. Perhaps you can see why.