Samantha Gets Spanked

by Samantha Whitney

  “Can I help with something?” I asked.

  Mrs. Murphy shook her head. “No. Just get something to drink out of the fridge and make yourself at home. I’m just happy to have my daughter home.”

  Trish rolled her eyes as she bent down to open a cabinet. “Yeah, yeah.”

  I knew what that look was for. It was only Trish’s second weekend home after going off to college. And if her mom hadn’t begged, she wouldn’t have come home that weekend either. She loved her wild college experience more than anything in the world. I always knew she would get even wilder when she went off to college, but I had no idea the extent.

  I opened the cupboard and took out a glass, then walked to the fridge to get a drink. “So Ian’s gone this weekend?”

  Mrs. Murphy sighed. “Yes. Too bad it had to be the weekend his sister finally decided to visit.”

  Trish pierced me with a look that said, ‘why’d you have to go there?’

  Her little brother, Ian, was sixteen and in the Army Junior ROTC program, much to his mother’s chagrin. But Mr. Murphy was all for it. He said letting the boy join would probably kill his desire to enter the military but, so far, it seemed to have the opposite effect. And according to Trish, her mom was heartbroken that he chose to go on an optional extra credit trip on the same weekend she decided to come home for a visit.

  Once again, a reason to feel bad for Mrs. Murphy and the thoughts I’d had about her husband.

  “Umm...” I bit my lip, trying to think of a way to change the subject. “Are you sure there’s nothing you need help with? Really, I’d love to be useful right now.”

  A voice came from the dining room. “We don’t put our guests to work in this house.” Greg Murphy walked into the kitchen. “Especially when they’ve been toiling away at college.”

  And suddenly, it all flooded back to me. My nervous excitement. My memories of a punishment that changed my life forever. I felt my face light up.

  Should I hug him? Should I just say hi? Nice to see you? Long time, no see? Please take me to the den and bend me over and fuck my brains out but first please give me a spanking for old time’s sake?

  “You okay?” Mr. Murphy took a few steps toward me, chuckling, then put his arm around my shoulders. With his other hand he reached down and picked up a baby carrot from a lovely assortment of vegetables that was sitting in a tray on the kitchen island. “Did I scare you?”

  The half-hug, ‘arm around the shoulder’ maneuver was a typical affectionate greeting from Mr. Murphy to someone who wasn’t a relative. I knew it meant nothing, but the feel of him pulling me a little closer sent a rush of electricity to parts of my body in a way that made me thankful he couldn’t read my thoughts.

  “No.” I tried my best not to giggle, but I couldn’t help it. I also couldn’t help what came out of my mouth next. “I’m just really glad to see you.” I cleared my throat, afraid of how my words sounded to Trish and her mom. “I mean, it’s been a while.”

  “Yes. It was the barbecue for Ian’s birthday. In August. Remember how hot it was?” He groaned. “I don’t know why we thought a cookout was a good idea during the most humid month known to man.” Mr. Murphy stepped back away from me, looking me up and down. He kept his hand on my shoulder. “Well, now, college seems to be treating you well. Looks like you’ve gained a little weight.”

  “Gregory!” Mrs. Murphy’s eyes got as big as the large slices of cucumber she was adding to the salad bowl in front of her. “That’s rude.”

  “What? We always said she needed to gain weight.” He put his arm back around my shoulders and pulled me a little closer. “You know I meant that in a good way, right? You looked anorexic before. But now...” His eyebrows rose for split second. “Hubba hubba!”

  “Oh, Daddy, don’t be such a dork,” Trish said, scowling. Her mom laughed.

  I smiled and purposely stood up extra straight to make my boobs stand out a little more. “It’s okay. I know a compliment when I hear one.”

  The truth was, I knew I looked good. I really was too skinny before. Like a pencil with tits. But I was up to a loose size four from my pre-college ‘size zero is too big for me’ days. And that particular day I went to great lengths to look my best. But, for what? Did I really think I could seduce that man? Is that why I wore a skimpy red tank top with skin tight jeans? Is that why I spent extra time making my golden blond hair as shiny as possible, and sprayed on just the right amount of perfume?

  Mr. Murphy pulled me a little closer, laughing as he hugged me. I took advantage of the opportunity and put my arms around his back, pressing my chest against his. At least it was right in front of his wife, so it looked innocent enough.

  Why does this man turn me on so much?

  He smelled so fucking good. I don’t know what cologne he wore, but it was the same one he’d worn for years and I thought about him anytime I caught a whiff of it somewhere else. He was about six or eight inches taller than me. My forehead came right to his shoulders. And damn, he looked good for his age. At least, he did to me. I couldn’t think of another fifty year old man anywhere else in the world who could make my panties fall off. If he only knew...

  Anyone else who saw him out on the street might think he was just some goofy middle-aged man. A man who wore short-sleeved plaid button down shirts with khakis and loafers every chance he got. A man who was a little thicker in the middle than I remembered, but who I now knew gave the best hugs in the world. Just your typical, slightly-balding middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, two kids, a big house, and a lot of responsibilities. But as he hugged me and I felt his hand press against my back, I could only think about replaying the night he took me over his knee in the den and used that same hand to set my butt on fire. But the replay in my head had a much happier ending - one that I was humiliated to think about as I stood in front of his wife. One that had me going to my overnight bag in Trish’s room a minute later to put on a fresh pair of panties.

  We decided to have dinner on the back deck to take advantage of the warm, breezy October air. I sat at the little round table to the right of Mr. Murphy, with Mrs. Murphy to my right and Trish directly across the table. With just a few Tiki torches lit as the day drifted into dusk, it seemed kind of romantic outside. And it only worsened the situation going on between my legs.

  Growing up, I had eaten dinner with this family more times than I could possibly count. But this was the first time I was too horny to concentrate on eating. I just wanted one night with Greg Murphy. Maybe I could get it out of my system. Or maybe I could somehow earn a spanking, then go to the bathroom and get myself off.

  Would he spank me? At eighteen years old? Was there anything I could do to earn one? I wondered how old Trish was the last time he spanked her. I wondered if secretly she enjoyed it like I did. That night became vivid to me all over again. In the soft glow of the patio lighting, Mr. Murphy looked a little younger. Not that he had aged much in the past six years, but he definitely had a little less hair now than he had then.

  During dinner, I got cold with the slight drop in temperature. When I stood up to go inside to get a sweater, I stopped to smile down at him. He immediately returned my smile. Was he somehow thinking what I was thinking? That I stood to his right side in the den, at that same angle, just before my punishment? That if he pushed his chair back away from the table, he could pull me over his lap again and pull down my jeans, and then hopefully my panties?

  He had such emotion in his eyes that night years ago, like he couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but he knew he needed to do it. And he wished he didn’t have to do it. Would I ever get the chance to tell him I’d thought about it countless times since then, and that he was a part of one of my favorite fantasies, and had given me some of the best orgasms I’d ever had? And that, somehow, my fantasy had grown stronger that week?

  Two hours later, well after dinner was over, Trish and I were in her bathroom putting the final touches on our makeup before going out for the night.
r />   “So, you’re sure your parents won’t mind us coming home so late?” I asked.

  Trish’s eyebrows furrowed. She held a flat iron in her hair as she looked in the mirror. “No.” She snickered. “Why? You scared or something? Do your parents care where you are tonight?”

  “No. They seemed a little miffed that I wanted to spend the night with you instead of them. But they know I barely get to see you anymore.”

  The colleges Trish and I attended were about three hours apart from each other. And even though I went to the college that was further away from home, I made more of an effort to see my family on a regular basis.

  “Well,” Trish said, “don’t worry about tonight. It’s an unspoken thing. They know I party at school.” She cleared her throat. “And they know better than to give me a fucking curfew.”

  “That’s cool.” I looked in the mirror to apply a fresh coat of lipstick. I thought it might be a good time to work an old memory into the conversation. “Remember that time we stole that bottle of whiskey from your grandma?”

  “Oh God, Sam.” She sat the iron down on the sink and unplugged it. “Why’d you have to bring that up? It was so embarrassing.”

  “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “What the hell? This is the second time you’ve brought it up this week. That was probably the single most humiliating event of my life!” Trish reached for the makeup bag and pulled out some glittery eyeshadow.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” Her mouth dropped open. “I got my ass beaten in front of my best friend.” She glared at me. “My bare ass.”

  “Yes, I was there. And he didn’t beat you.” No, that was what happened to me with my own dad later that night. “It was just a spanking.” I laughed before speaking in a mocking tone. “I mean, you lived to tell about it.”

  “Oh, shut up, Spank-o. I know all about you.” She faced the mirror as she cracked open the eyeshadow case.

  “Huh? You know what about me?”

  “I know you like to be spanked. Bobby Harrington told me all about it after you guys broke up.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  Trish closed her right eye and held the applicator, ready to turn her eyelids into a sparkly piece of artwork, when she lowered it, inhaling with a gasp. “Is that why you’ve been flirting with my dad all night?” She wrinkled her nose.

  “Huh?” I began to fish through the makeup bag, acting like I desperately needed to find something.

  “Oh my God. That’s exactly what it is. Holy fucking shit, Sam.” She leaned down to my ear. “You couldn’t be that hard up. What’ve you been doing at school? Studying?” She sneered.

  “Not entirely.” I looked down at the sink, knowing it was time to divulge some useless information just to get her off my back. “I have a few fuck buddies. Some guys at my dorm.” They’ve already become boring and irritating, but whatever...

  “Oooh! Now we’re getting somewhere.” Her eyes lit up. “Tell me all about it. I’ve told you everything but you’ve been holding back on me.”

  Yeah, because you barely ever let me get a word in. I let out a sigh. “It’s been fun, I guess. I don’t know.”

  “What the hell’s wrong with you? You were so wild in high school. And now you go to college and you’re bored?” She grabbed my arm. “What? There aren’t enough hot young guys ready to drill you anytime you need it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Hmm. Girls, then?” Trish let go of my arm and gave me a big, toothy smile. There was a wild glint in her eye. “That reminds me. You have a birthday coming up pretty soon.”

  I inhaled sharply and licked my lips as I gazed into her pretty green eyes. “That’s correct.”

  Our eyes locked. It had been a while since we talked about the present I gave her on her eighteenth birthday, right after school ended in June. A bottle of vodka and a menage...Trish, me, and Levi Conner makes three. It was always fun to mess around with Trish but it took a lot of alcohol to get her in just the right mood. From the look in her eyes I could see that tonight might be one of those nights. But I wasn’t in the mood to make out, or play a game of drunken ‘show and tell’ with my pussy and Trish. At least not this night. For inexplicable reasons I may never understand, I still only wanted her dad.

  Trish moved her hand to my back and gently dug in with her long, manicured nails, tracing a slow line down to the top of my skirt. “So, who do you want for your birthday? Let me know and I’ll get it all set up.”

  I wanted to say, ‘A birthday spanking from your dad?’ But instead, I just laughed.

  “What?” she asked. “Levi again?” Her hand moved down my skirt, settling on the roundest part.

  I merely shrugged.

  “Oh no.” Her expression changed to disgust. And in a move that both shocked and excited me, she lifted up the bottom of my skirt, exposing my backside, which was practically bare. I wore only a narrow thong. She gave me two hard swats with her open hand. “If spanking’s what you want, I’ll make sure you get it. But not from...” She shook her head and stuck out her tongue, making a gagging noise.

  I smiled. I couldn’t say it would be a bad thing to have Trish to myself for the night. Or even to let her spank me. But I still only wanted Mr. Murphy. It was an itch I needed desperately to scratch. Or maybe just an intense craving that nothing else could subdue.

  The way I saw it, I had two choices: either forget about it and try not to ever think about it again, or see if he’d go for it. But could I do that to Trish’s mom? And how in the world would I possibly go about this, anyway?

  Trish bit her bottom lip and caressed the inside of my left thigh. She looked in my eyes with a wicked grin on her face. I couldn’t believe she would do this without a few drinks first. My thong was instantly soaked. Maybe she’d be a good consolation prize to make me forget about who I really wanted.

  “Mmm,” I moaned. “What’s gotten into you?” Had she gotten even wilder in college than she’d led me to believe?

  “I don’t know.” She giggled. “I think I just really missed you.” Her voice lowered to a purr. “I forgot how much fun you were.”

  Suddenly, we heard the bedroom door open. Trish drew her hand away from my thigh with a scared look. Her mom yelled into the room. “Girls! Your ride’s here!” Then we heard the door close.

  “Fuck!” Trish’s growled. “What time is it?” She turned around to see the clock on the wall behind her. “I can’t believe it’s already 7:30. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She stared straight into my eyes with a dramatic, pained expression. “Fuck!”

  I laughed and followed her into her bedroom. Two members of the Murphy family had given me thoughts that instantly resulted in wet panties that day. I knew it would do me no good to change into a new thong at that point. It would only get wet again. “Wait, Trish.”

  She turned around. “Huh?”

  “I gotta do this first.” I gave her a big smile as I reached under my skirt. I pulled the hem up to my waist, then quickly put my fingers inside the elastic waistband and bent over, lowering the thong to my ankles to step out of it.

  “Damn it.” Trish shook her head, staring at me with narrowed eyes as I stood back up. “You’re such a bitch sometimes.”

  “Thanks.” I made my smile even bigger and pulled the hem of my skirt back down. I threw the thong at my overnight bag on the floor.

  “I wish we were just staying here tonight,” she said. Then she sighed loudly and turned to the bedroom door.

  “Yeah.” I took a deep breath and followed Trish to the living room, dreading whatever the night held for us. I would have rather had her to myself than go with our original plans. We were meeting Roger Cortez and Carter Malone. Two guys we knew from high school, both of whom happened to be home for the weekend. I had a feeling they both either came home from college every weekend, or they made a special trip because they got a Facebook message from Trish, asking if they might be in town and ready to party when she came in. They had
both graduated a year ahead of us and were always excellent at procuring whatever kind of alcohol we wanted. That night, the plan was to go to a bar on the other side of town - “The Tin Roof Tavern” - with our fake ID’s. It seemed pointless to me somehow. I was able to get drunk anytime I wanted just by wearing low cut shirts and tight jeans to get past the bouncers at a few of the college bars I frequented.

  And I had a feeling that I already knew exactly how this night would go. One of the guys would be the designated driver. They would get me and Trish to do shots, and try to get us to make out with each other. Then they would grope us and try to join in. It seemed so juvenile to me now. It was fun in high school, when part of the thrill was just to lie to our parents so we could party and be rebellious. But I was a college girl now. I stayed up late doing whatever I wanted every night anyway.