look old enough to be put out to pasture.”
“You’re really fresh, you know that? I’m not as old as I look.”
“Really? How old are you?”
“Thirty eight.”
“Wow, I thought you were at least forty two!”
“But you came looking for me anyway.”
“That’s right. I want a daddy to boss me around,” she said, impulsively kissing him. “So what do you plan to do when you get out?”
“Well, I’m tired of talking orders. I’ll probably start my own business.”
“Really? What kind?”
“Maybe a little fixit shop.”
“How exciting,” she grinned.
“God, you’re a brat. Well, what do you suggest?”
“How about a neighborhood photography studio? It’s nice work, not too strenuous. And you could develop artistic photography as a side line.”
Doug stared at her. “That’s a good idea!”
“I thought you’d like that.”
“Maybe I should hire you as my assistant. Then I could spank you every day.”
“I have all the necessary skills.”
“There’s not much you don’t have, including nerve,” said Veronica’s new admirer.
In a few minutes he took her back inside and stopped in the kitchen to pull out a straight-backed chair.
“You’re a managing little female, aren’t you?” He sat down and took her by the arm. “I’m not sure I like that!” He pulled her down across his lap in one motion. “Oh no, are these still on you?” he smacked the seat of her glove tight denim shorts a few times with disapproval. “Take them off. Take everything off. Right now!” He lifted her back off his lap and folded his arms to watch her undress for him. She unzipped and dropped her shorts slowly, then deliberately held his gaze while stepping out of them. Then she lazily pulled her stretch halter top up over her head revealing her small, firm, round, peach shaped bosom, rose nipples pointing insolently upward, skin like taut cream satin, with a torso tapering downward to an exquisite waist. Now she stood before him in a tiny pair of French cut blue panties and lacing cloth shoes.
“I’d like to photograph you for artistic photos,” he said, pulling her back over his lap before she had a chance to remove her panties.
“Oh, that’s been done. It’s what gave me the idea for you,” she revealed, turning to him.
“Are you telling me you’ve posed for nude photos?”
“Yes.”
“You little slut!” he declared with mock indignation, liking her more every moment they were together. Then a strange and frightening thought came into his head. What if none of this was real and he was simply hallucinating off the brownies she had allowed him to eat?
He had only just identified the unusual euphoria he’d been experiencing for the past hour as drug induced. It suddenly all added up: the hippie sister, the classic medium of delivery, the subsequent sensations of wild elation counterbalanced by a tendency to over analyze every thought that occurred to him, the uninhibited sex and spontaneous confessions and most of all, his complete lack of concern about any of this. “You are a little slut, aren’t you?” he demanded suspiciously.
“I’m a free spirit,” she casually corrected him over one pretty bare shoulder, flipping back her long, smooth, shiny hair.
“Oh, I see, a child of nature,” he amended, relieved that her responses still seemed to tally with her promise of being in the scene. He wasn’t imagining that she was allowing him to pull her panties down, and yet he never recalled the color pink showing up so vividly on a bottom he had only briefly spanked. It looked electric pink. “I suppose you never get spanked,” he ventured.
“Never! Who does?”
“I think it stays pink longer the first time,” he told her, stroking her bare bottom with his big hand. “That’s been my experience with the few girls I’ve spanked more than once.”
“My sister was sure pink when I saw her and that was almost an hour after her encounter with you!”
“See, that’s where this whole day somehow goes all Alice in Wonderland,” he frankly admitted, pausing with his hands clasped on her waist. “Why did your sister pick me out to bait today? Why did you follow up? Things like this don’t happen to me.”
She wriggled against his sturdy thighs and murmured, “You were in the right place at the right time.”
“So you’ve posed for photographers! That was very naughty. And dangerous,” he told her, spanking her soundly for several minutes. “However, knowing that about you makes you coming to find me today more believable. You’re a wild girl. Aren’t you? You need someone to make you conform.”
“You?” she looked back at him.
“I should punish you severely for playing that joke on me,” he threatened, continuing to bring his palm down firmly on either cheek until each glowed magenta and radiated heat.
“What joke?”
“You know damn well what joke. Do you know how much it could jam me up to test positive for THC?”
“They’d bother testing a hoary old warhorse like you?”
“Keep it up and I’ll make you get me a hair brush.”
Veronica wriggled on his lap to entice him. He was rock hard again and she ground against it. The spanking began to hurt. She tried to breathe through it but finally she couldn’t help but cry out.
“Oh please! I’ve had enough. I’m sorry for whatever I did!”
“All right. Spread your legs and jut your bottom up.”
“Why?” she looked over her shoulder.
“You’ll see,” he told her, putting his palm between her smooth thighs and lightly spanking her public mound and vulva.
“Oh! How dare you spank me there!” she cried, delighted. Now he let one, then two long fingers slip up into her snug, creamy vagina.
“You’re so wet. Maybe I’ll show mercy and fuck you instead.”
“Maybe fuck me without showing mercy?” she amended.
“Bent over the kitchen table? As though we were married?” he suggested.
“Is married life that exciting?”
“We’ll see,” he promised.
