I wrote this a few weeks ago, but decided to let our bouncy blogpal Tiggr have first refusal on it for her Fantasy Friday competition.

Seems it was the right decision, as we successfully fooled almost everyone!

Anyway, here’s a reprint of the story for your delictation. Do let me know if you would like to see a continuation…

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“Honey, were you expecting a package?”
“What?”
“There’s a note here from a courier, says there’s a parcel waiting for you at their depot.”

Oh shit.

I’d hoped it would have taken a little longer to arrive. Now I’d been forced into a conversation I’d been putting off for weeks.

Damn internet shopping!

I’ve been trying to buck up the courage to tell my husband about my little fetish for ages but the time never felt right. Work got in the way, then when we got home we’d both be too tired. Conversations always skipped around the same things…what we’d done that day, gossip, family, planning some together time…

Even post-coital chatter never seemed like the right time, even when we’d been playing rough and I was spooned up beside him with my ass aglow from his not-so-tender ministrations, revelling in the oh-so delicious throb as I rubbed my tender cheeks into his lap.

Well, now I’d gone and done it. OK, so maybe it was slightly deliberate. I’d found the website of my dreams just a few days ago, filled with all the wonderful, fascinating and downright scary toys I’d always dreamed of owning. I was weak. I always am when it comes to buying stuff on websites. With my card just sitting there on the desk next to me it was just too much temptation!

It gave me such a naughty thrill, clicking that final button to close the transaction, imagining the $500 flying out from my account and the fine collection of cuffs, buttplugs, dildos, whips, straps and paddles winging their way towards me.

And there they were, waiting for me not even four miles from where I now sat, trembling and full of panic.

What do I do? How do you go about telling your husband of four years that the playful swats he gives you during sex had awakened a burning need in his sweet, innocent wife?

How can I admit to him that what I really want is to feel my ass catch fire under his hand? I could hardly buck up the courage to admit the real reason why I’d insisted on buying that huge, square hairbrush all those weeks ago, driving him mad asking to be taken to every shop for miles around looking for just the right one.

What should I say about all the times when he’d be late home from work and I’d taken that big brush in my hand, dropped my pants, bent over our bed and whacked myself just as hard as I could, trying to capture the feelings I craved?

I’m sorry, baby, but your favourite girl wants to be beaten senseless because it makes her come?

Remember when I turned you down when you wanted to have sex? The nights when I just wanted to lie on my side with my head on your lap? It wasn’t because I was feeling unsexy, but because I was desperately trying to keep you from finding out about the bright red ass that was hiding under my sweatpants the whole time.

I’m sorry baby. I’ve been naughty, hiding all these feelings away from you, making you think I didn’t want your strong body on top of me. Doggy style isn’t really my favourite position…it’s just that I know you’re going to spank me when you’re taking me that way…

“They’re still open, do you want me to drive you over there so you can pick it up?”
“Uh…yeah, OK.”

Oh shit oh shit oh shit!

“Can we have a little chat first, baby?”