Date: Wed, 4 Sep 1996 21:18:46 -0400 X-Sender: teddyt@teddyt.pop.crosslink.net Mime-Version: 1.0 To: laura@netgate.net From: Ted Subject: Beach Blanket Bingo Beach Blanket Bingo (f/m, m/f, M/f) He never did like the beach that much, and those oily grains of Santa Barbara sand between his toes were driving him crazy. But Frankie wasn't going to miss this school's-out beach weekend. A loner by nature, despite his trim good looks and curly black hair, Frankie had his eye on aloof sun-sparkled Annette. During the volleyball match, he found himself diving into the sand and winding up athwart the object of his desire, who lay face down giggling and spitting silica between the sexy gap in her teeth. He felt her rump lift up against his middle, saw the crescent of pale skin beneath the tight Lycra and recalled his history lesson about the Tammany Hall crook who said, "I saw my opportunities and I took them." WHAPPPP!!!!! Annette shrieked, and everyone thought it was quite funny. Frankie, feeling like the Sultan of Swat, kept spanking the girl long beyond what had been a mere shoreline charade. She ran crying up the beach, past the boardwalk and into the bungalow, clutching a Daffy Duck towel around her suddenly chagrined pelvis. The crowd clucked disapproval of Frankie, and he slunk back toward the house. Rapping at the weathered wooden door, he heard a vile, "Yesssssss???" through Annette's sobs. "I'd like to come in and apologize," he said. "No way, man!!! was the gentlest response she could muster. "Yes, way, ma'am," Frankie replied. As she moved to bolt the door, Annette turned it the wrong way and Frankie used his muscular shoulders to push it open. He stood shame-faced, mumbling apologies. "I didn't think it was *that* hard," he offered. "You must not have been spanked before." She turned her back to him and he thought he could hear her whisper, "Yes, yes I have." Frankie was both aroused and upset. He himself had never felt the taste of corporal punishment, and he knew he should not have inflicted himself upon Annette. "Can I have a Coke?" he asked. Annette was unsure of the next step, because she did sort of like the guy, especially since he had apologized, unlike any of the other crude jerks in her class. "Yeah," she replied. "Let's have some rum in it." They took the drinks to the front porch swing and made small talk till they felt at once very small and very large -- feeling the effects of the Caribbean demon. "I'm dizzy," he said. "Let's go in." She followed him. He sat on the edge of the twin bed to collect himself and rearrange that one part of him that had not yet been numbed. He watched Annette open a drawer and fiddle with her makeup, procuring a maple-backed hairbrush. "Now, Frankie," she cooed. "Maybe it's time you felt what a spanking was like. Get your trunks down." He hesitated, letting her words echo throughout his psyche, feeling better than if he had won the lottery. "Trunks down?" he asked, to make sure. "Yes, Frankie, all the way. You won't think a spanking is so funny, now." He dropped his Hawaiian-print trunks and stood, hairy and proud, in front of her as Annette decided what to do with him. She led him across her knees, his weight propped on the bed. The paddling she delivered in no time had made the smooth musculature of his ass as red as the sunburn creeping down his shoulders. Frankie howled, but he knew it was the most exciting feeling he had ever experienced with a girl. Even better than his solo loop-the-loops in the shower stall. When it was over, Annette was in no condition, chemically or morally, to object when Frankie reversed their position. He took his time, sliding his right hand beneath the skimpy bikini bottom and pinching her cute tush before carefully lowering Annette's brief modesty and administering another, lighter but lengthier, hand spanking. They were like lovebirds the rest of day, too mature to engage in real sex but taking turns pleasuring each other in every way known to girl and boy. "Frankie," she said at sundown creeping 'round their backstair. "Tomorrow when I go home, Dad's gonna know his rum is missing. I'm probably gonna get it pretty good." His jaw dropped. Why was she telling him this? "There's big boulder by the bushes under my window at the corner of the house," she whispered conspiratorially. Now, Frankie knew. The following night found him on tiptoes atop the rock, feeling like Moses peering into the Promised Land. She was across her daddy's knee, facing the window. Each of her father's decisive hand spanks crashed against her upturned bottom with the force of the perfect wave. For her, it was a wave of anticipatory pleasure. Annette accepted each one stoically, grimacing and blurting occasionally from the fire blazing across, in and aroud her teen-aged hips, but mostly winking and fashioning a smile for Frankie, whose blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight. It was the first time she understood that a spanking need not produce tears. As the she emitted her last squeal and Dad brushed his trousers back into order on his way out, Frankie crawled easily through the window, kissed his partner in crime and pulled her across his knee. Not like before, though. This time the pert beach bunny had her legs parted, straddling Frankie's bare left knee lengthwise. Each of the boy's spanks pushed her black curls down harder -- and softer -- against the hirsute thighs below his shorts. The only sound from *this* spanking was the innocent moan of virginal orgasm and the silent spurting of cream into fleece. ###