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Thursday, 11 September 2014

Day out on the river

We were invited to a Rowing Regatta the other day. Not our usual sort of thing but it was a work supplier freebie, so what the hell. The day was beautifully sunny and my wife wore a nice summer frock and I had a suitable blazer and trousers outfit.

After some welcome drinks we wandered out of the marquee to see what was going on. The races were due to start after lunch and we had riverside seats reserved.
Neither us knows much about rowing although I enjoy watching it on the TV during the Olympics.

As we strolled through the marshalling area, where boats were being rigged in a frenzy of activity, my wife was the first to comment on the athletic build of the competitors. She mentioned that rowing outfits were very tight affairs and left very little to the imagination. She particularly admired the well hung proportions of one guy who was well over 6 foot. He had his uni-suit rolled down to the waist and was enjoying flexing his muscles lifting and heaving boating gear around the place.

My gaze was focused on the tight bottoms of the female crews wrapped in lycra uni-suits and bending
over fixing various mechanical pieces to the outside of the boats. Supporting trestles lay scattered around the field and my thoughts were in overdrive as I pictured an alternative use for the trestles.

The lunch was good and we drank a fair amount as the host company had laid on a shuttle van from the nearby train station, so I didn’t have any driving to do. The races went quickly and we were soon having afternoon tea followed by prizes. There was yet more opportunity to watch the athletic rowers close up on the podium. Yet more smiles on my wife’s face. I hid the direction of my gaze on the female teams by wearing sun glasses.

Eventually after a very pleasant and alcoholic day we arrived back home. My wife went upstairs for a shower whilst I made a light supper to enjoy in front of the TV. I heard her call me upstairs and found her stood on the landing by the lockable blanket chest where we keep our spanking gear. She was completely nude and had her hair tied back in a headband. She looked slightly damp and glowing after her shower. I gave a low wolf whistle and she turned and smiled.

“Maybe later big boy,” she said.

Leaning forward showing  off her great ass she pulled out the long Spencer paddle, the one with the holes in a row, which let the air pass through just before it lands on a bottom.

Follow me, she crooked a finger and I went into the bedroom behind her, enjoying the wobble of her hips.

“So,” she growled at me in a low husky voice, “you enjoyed all the girl’s bottoms today did you?”

“I didn’t notice them ma’am,” I said

“No, not by much you didn’t. Drop your pants and bend over the end of the bed.”

I did as I was told and waited with my bottom in the air and my hands on the counterpane.

“Well I think rowing has some interesting terms don’t you. Like stroke and cox and paddle when their ready for the off.?”

She landed a solid whack across my pants.

“ You don’t really think I didn’t notice all that oogling you were doing of the girls at the regatta?”

She spanked me again.

“Sorry ma’am.”

 I straightened my legs and pushed out my bottom as she slowly peeled down my underpants. I love that bit, at the start of a spanking, feeling the cool fingers brush against my skin as the tight waistband travels over the curves and then down to my thighs, baring my bottom and leaving me gagging for the spanking.

“Right then, twenty strokes.” She emphasized that last word. “And so lets paddle!.”

Between the strokes she watched the second hand on the bedside alarm clock tick through thirty seconds and then landed another sharp whack, which had me lifting up on my legs and making ouch sounds and drawing deep breaths.

When she had finished the very sound beating and my bottom was fiery red she turned me around and pushed me down on to my knees. Lifting one foot onto the top of the bed she opened her neatly shaven pussy for a very good licking. I obliged as she held my head firmly in position. She nearly got there but not quite, as she prefers overhand licking to underhand.

Jumping on the bed she summoned me to her side and I shuffled over with my trousers round my legs, my pants falling off and my prick waving around. It was an ungainly movement but I got there in the end and I squirreled my face down and then between her thighs. It didn’t take many seconds of tongue flicking to have her screaming with an orgasm.

Her hand was close to my legs and she started to smack my balls as I took her into a third and fourth orgasm. The smacks were sore but I stood my ground and licked for all I was worth. We were both in a bit of a frenzy and she grabbed my prick hard , jerking it around in that painful way that I go nuts for. I wasn’t about to cum, the hand job was too rough for that. I just enjoyed the suffering of the ball smacking and prick yanking and smothered her cunt with my lips and pushing my tongue deep inside her.

When she closed her legs together tightly, signifying the end of my endeavours, I stood up straight and took of my clothes so that I could take the sweat off with a shower.

She lay still for a moment fingering herself gently with half closed eyes and then got into her dressing gown. The evening was still warm so she remained naked under the robe leaving me to wonder if there might be more activity later on.

Supper and a bit of a documentary and then we were back in bed for the night. My wife told me a story about a rowing girl being spanked by her trainer and I wanked and came within only a few seconds.

I hope we get invited back to the Regatta next year. Perhaps the rowing suits will be even smaller.



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