Disciplining Ford

Touching and caressing each other is something we certainly seem to do – often. Any occasion on which we pass within range during course of a day is typically the excuse to touch each other in some manner, and the more private the situation, the more intimate and enjoyable the mutual caressing tends to be. There are also definitely times when DW will deliberately present an opportunity – for example by finding an excuse to bend over nearby – that I am absolutely expected to exploit. On those rare occasions that I happen to be too otherwise engrossed to take advantage, it will draw a comment from DW such as “…so, the honeymoon’s over is it?”

As DW also happens to be extremely ticklish, we have quite frequent teasing discussions about what constitutes the distinction between tickling and caressing.

Nevertheless, there are a few exceptions when my attentions of this sort are less welcome, one of which was fiercely reinforced to me recently when we were preparing for bed and DW was in the process of cleaning her teeth.

Just when DW bent right over to rinse at the sink and her short nightie rode up to reveal the silky blue nylon panties that she was still wearing, I responded in the way that I might commonly do in those circumstances. Once I’d deftly positioned my thumb and middle finger on each side of her pussy to gently grasp its thinly covered bulging softness, I simply stroked my first finger along its full length from front to back – very nice.

Well DW’s reaction was certainly spectacular, although not quite of the nature I’d been anticipating. After a considerable amount of spluttering as she disengaged her mouth from the tap, she reeled around as she stood up, quickly wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Ford, I don’t know how many times I’ve told you NOT to do those sorts of things just when I have my mouth at the tap – you know my reactions to your touch and I could just as easily have cracked my teeth or inhaled some water.”

Unfortunately for me, DW was quite right. In my enthusiasm to exploit her rather tempting pose, I’d overlooked the fact that just at that moment, her mouth had been in close proximity to the tap. Also unfortunately for me, we were alone together in the house and DW was striding back into the bedroom to where the hairbrush always sits on the low chest of drawers in readiness for immediate use on just such occasions as these. With hairbrush now in hand, DW ordered me over the back of the bedroom chair, quickly grasped in turn the elastic of each leg on my underpants to reef them up out of the way and after briefly laying the cold back of the brush on my right butt-cheek, set to work with total enthusiasm.

The forceful strokes that DW applied as she alternated between the sensitive “sit spot” on each side of my butt were absolute stingers that immediately set me gasping.

“You had better count – or I won’t be able to decide when to stop!”

In the light of that statement, I made my best endeavours to do exactly that, intermingled with the involuntary responses that the ferocity of each stroke was eliciting from me, and with DW’s reiteration of her earlier comments. Given the intensity and location of the spanking that I was receiving, I was more than grateful when DW determined that 20 strokes would be sufficient for this particular infringement.

Cradling my now very sore backside, I repaired to the bathroom to now clean my teeth, while DW returned the hairbrush to its resting place, finished undressing and climbed into bed.

Once I’d somewhat gingerly done likewise, DW moved across to my side and cuddled in so close behind me that I could feel her shaven pussy pressing against the most painful area of my backside.

“Hmm, your butt is so nice and warm.”

With that DW attempted to cuddle in even more closely, reached over with her other hand and wrapped it around my now rapidly hardening cock.

Happy New Year’s!