Anne was one of my best friends in college. We had met during our sophomore year and while not really ever romantically connected, our conversation often included sexual topics and a few times our bodies made intentional contact. Anne was short, curvaceous and very cute. To me, her bottom begged to be spanked. One topic I had not revealed to her or really anyone else was my fascination with spanking. Anne had fueled my fantasies when she relayed one late Saturday night - heavily influenced by tequila - the punishments she had received from her mom as a kid and even as recently as the summer after freshman year when her mom made clear ‘my house, my rules’.

Over that previous summer, Anne had endured several spankings most fairly minor sessions over her mom’s knee for not doing chores or mouthing-off. I imagined Anne over her mom’s knee, as her bare bottom was reddened by a hair brush. This was enough to spur my arousal but the capstone session had been when Anne had broken curfew and arrived home not only late but smelling like a brewery. A friend had accidentally spilled a glass of beer onto Anne. It had eventually dried but the smell lingered. Her mom ordered her to fetch the paddle that hung in the hall closet and go to her room to prepare herself. The preparation was to bare her bottom and bend over the bed and wait patiently for the paddling to begin. Her mom left her to fret for about fifteen minutes before entering the room. After a brief scolding, Anne’s mom declared the sentence - twenty swats and Anne was to count them.

The paddle had been made by Anne’s uncle - her mom’s brother - a clone of an implement that he had hewn to address serious misbehavior in his own household. Anne had watched the original used on her cousins countless times and had once secretly witnessed her aunt getting her own adult bare ass paddled by her husband. At the time, Anne only knew paddling as a routine consequence of misbehavior. For her aunt, occasionally getting paddled on her bare ass was nothing to do with punishment but a fun precursor to truly raucous sex with Anne’s uncle.

The clone had been used sparingly on Anne as well as her sister and brother. But when it was fetched from the closet, the recipient knew a truly painful session was about to unfold, leaving the miscreant’s bottom sore and bruised for days to come. Anne had told me about how great the party had been and that the paddling was definitely worth it. I cared nothing about the fantastic party but was obsessed with the notion of Anne’s round bottom being repeated whacked with the oak paddle. That vision was the precursor to numerous masturbatory events.

Early in spring semester, Anne invited me home for the weekend. On Saturday night we were planning to attend a house party with some of her friends. Before leaving, her mom chided, “Remember curfew.”

“Seriously, mom?” Anne had challenged.

“Do you want to end the evening with a discussion with Buster?” her mom answered. Her mom was not aware that I knew that ‘Buster’ was the oak paddle or that it hung ready to warm naughty bottoms in the hall closet.

The party was few blocks away and as we walked I mentioned her mom’s strict admonition, “She seemed pretty serious about curfew.”

“She was just being dramatic,” Anne replied, “Nothing to worry about.”

Not that I was worried. In fact, after Anne’s tequila-influenced revelations, I had occasionally mused about being over her mom’s knee for some infraction, so the threat about Buster kind of played into that fantasy. Nevertheless, once at the party I quickly forgot about the issue. Much later the party was winding down and Anne found me and whispered, “I didn’t realize how late it was. We gotta go.”

“I thought you said she wasn’t serious,” I replied, now a bit worried. The fantasy of a spanking was something completely different that the prospect of it actually occurring.

“No point in poking the bear,” Anne replied. We did not talk much more on the somewhat drunken stumble back to her house. The lights were still on and Anne’s mom was in the living room reading her Kindle when we walked in.

“I thought I was clear about curfew,” she scolded, setting the tablet on the coffee table.

“Mom. Please, no?” Anne pleaded.

“You’re both in deep trouble,” her mom replied. “Fetch the paddle. This is only part one. We’re gonna revisit this in the morning when I’m not so tired and angry.” Anne obediently retrieved Buster from the closet and handed it to her mom. “Turn around, bend over with your hands on your knees.” Anne complied presenting her lovely bottom for the paddle. “You’re joking, right,” her mom asked. “You think you get to avoid baring your bottom? Nice try, now get those jeans down before I double the count!” Anne stood up and quickly unfastened her jeans, she glanced over at me before bending over. When our eyes met, there was a mixed look that I interpreted as part embarrassment at having to expose herself in front of me and perhaps equal part apologetic that I too would face the same predicament. Her ass was as magnificent as I had ever imagined. Her mom looked at me looking at Anne, perhaps just then realizing what an arousing view this provided me. She drew back the paddle gave Anne’s round bottom a solid swat. I marveled at how a shockwave rolled through Anne’s cheeks and thighs.

Anne grunted, “One!”

After the tenth swat, her mom paused and moved close to inspect her work. She then looked at me and declared, “Your turn, mister.” I adopted the stance that Anne had demonstrated and braced for the impact. I felt the paddle tapped against my bare ass just seconds before a hard swat that nearly took my breath away. “One!” I hollered. Watching Anne get her paddling had resulted in a raging boner that now subsided as the swat count grew. Ten whacks left my butt numb but I knew that when the numbness wore off, it was going to be raw and very sore. The notion of a second part made me both excited and very anxious.

A short while later, I lay in bed recounting the events of the evening, particularly the sight of Anne’s round ass being paddled and the first-ever view of her girl parts from a particularly revealing angle. I heard a creak in the hallway and then the door to my room opened slowly. In the dim light, I saw the outline of the visitor but was uncertain of who it was until Anne whispered, “How’s your tush?”

“Very sore,” I replied.

Anne pulled down the covers and liberated my partially stiff cock from my boxers. She began to stroke, “Thanks for coming home with me this weekend. I really needed a spanking and wanted you to watch. I guess I provoked my mom a bit more than I had intended.”

“It was super hot watching you get paddled. I have mixed feelings about getting spanked myself,” I replied.

“Well, if she follows through, there’s more to come in the morning,” Anne reminded. “Mmmmm,” she murmured as my cock began to twitch and spurt several streams of semen, landing on my torso and her hand. She licked a finger and then another. “Play your cards right and I will take the next load directly in my mouth,” she teased. She gave me a deep kiss, providing an ample taste of the salty treat still coating her lips before she quietly exited the room.

I rose in the morning and pulled on a pair of running pants, then wandered down to the kitchen. “Coffee?” Anne’s mom asked. She poured me a cup and then noted, “I just heard water running so expect Anne shortly. I’ve got some sticky buns ready to put in the oven when she shows-up.” I noted she had already prepared for the second phase - a chair was turned away from the kitchen table and a wooden hairbrush lay on the seat. She saw me eyeing the brush and quipped, “Useful for more than just hair styling.”

Anne shuffled into the kitchen a few moments later and her mom put the tray of rolls into the oven. “Let’s get this done so we can enjoy our breakfast,” her mom declared taking a seat in the pre-positioned chair. Anne instinctively moved to her mom’s right side. With the brush in her lap, her mom quickly tugged down Anne’s flannel pajamas, her bottom still showing a pink swath from last night’s paddling. She immediately went to work on Anne’s awesome bottom. The swats landed hard and fast. Unlike the rather limited impact zone of the paddle, the brush ranged all over Anne’s cheeks - on the crest and slightly above, the sides and even strikes centered between and, of course, the sit spots already pre-tenderized by the paddling. Anne moaned with the growing heat. I tried to keep count and at about one-hundred twenty, Anne’s mom paused. “Is my message getting through?”

“Yes, mom,” Anne wailed.

Her mom began a finale of slower, hard swats - five successive strikes to the right sit spot, then five to the left, repeating that cycle three more times. Anne sprung up and frantically tried to rub the sting out of her bottom. Her mom crooked her finger at me and when I approached she jerked my running pants and boxers down, they puddled around my ankles before I lowered myself over her lap. Watching Anne’s spanking had given me an unprecedented level of turgidity. My erection was sandwiched between her thighs as she began to spank. She was wearing light gray yoga pants and I was certain they would be speckled with wet spots of pre-cum afterwards, hopefully not soaked with actual ejaculate. The initial spanking made me feel like a swarm of bees had been provoked to sting me in waves. She made the same pre-finale pause and then delivered a her signature sit-spot-focused coda.

That evening on the drive back to campus, Anne pulled into a rest area selecting a secluded spot. She got out and I thought was headed to the restroom but instead climbed into the back seat, “C’mon back,” she prompted. I did not need to be asked a second time. She opened my jeans and began to stroke me until fully stiff. She bent down - tentatively at first kissing and licking the head before taking more and more of me in her mouth. “Let me know when you’re about to cum,” she noted, and continued the manual and oral stimulus.

A few minutes later, I grunted, “I’m getting really close.”

“Mmmm”, she hummed the vibration taking me over the edge and expelling was felt like an extra generous volume of jizz. She captured the whole release. She sat up and showed me the creamy contents of her mouth before swallowing the treat. “Thanks for coming this weekend,” she said, then giggled, “Twice.