Don't Tell

I like gardening. I have a real green finger and an eye for what flowers and bushes will complement each other. In my not so humble opinion I had one of the best gardens on the street. Not only that, my front lawn was immaculate. Flat as a snooker table and just as green, with nary a weed to be seen. Our local council had this better gardens award and I had high hopes of winning it this year.

Please note that I'm not a professional gardener. It's just a hobby, but one that brings me quite a bit of pleasure. The garden award, by the way, wasn't worth any money. The winner got a little plaque and, maybe, a gift voucher from one of the local nurseries.

So now you know one of my likes. Here's one of my pet peeves. People who do something that they know they shouldn't, screw up royally and then try to cover up, often expecting their victims to help them cover up. (Politicians are really good at this, but this story is not going to be about a politician.)

Tom, the bloke across the road had a four wheel drive. It's not one of the standard annoying 4WD's you see buzzing around in suburbs where they have no need to be. This was a serious vehicle, the sort that explorers would want to use when driving up Mount Everest or taking a little jaunt across the Antarctic. This was a 4WD with muscle, and Tom loved that car, taking it on a lot of off road motoring jaunts. I have to admit, he was a superb driver.

Moving on to the next subject, global warming. We'd been suffering a drought, and some of our idiot politicians were sold on global warming, convinced that a weather Armageddon was on its way. "We're going to be suffering permanent drought" one of these idiots was spouting off.

I'd love to hear what he has to say right now. It'd just been raining for a solid week, our dams were filling rapidly and the ground is saturated. I assume that out politicians will now tell us we're in for permanent floods.

Now you're probably wondering how I'm going to bring all these elements together to form a story. Well, it was like this.

I was sitting in the front room on a Saturday afternoon, having a beer and watching my team lose the football, pack of useless wankers that they are. It was a nice sunny day for a change, but those clowns on the field were almost knee deep in mud. Sooner them than me, I assure you.

In the background I could hear Tom revving the motor of his 4WD, which was a bit unusual. I idly thought that there must be something wrong with it and he was testing it out. Finally it occurred to me that the revving engine was just a bit too loud. If I could hear it that loudly from my front room, Tom must have just about been revving the guts out of it.

So I wandered out to see what was going on. What was going on was Tom's fucking great 4WD was sunk almost to the axles in a muddy swamp that used to be my front lawn. I could see great gouging wheel marks across my nature strip, through a couple of low bushes, across my garden and onto my lawn.

Even as I watched the stupid vehicle surged forward, there was a crash of gear as it was put into reverse, and the engine roared as the driver slammed on the accelerator. Apparently this time was the lucky one that did the trick. The wheels finally gripped, flinging great divots of mud and lawn around and the 4WD backed off my lawn, further mangling my garden. It paused for a second on the edge of the road and then shot across the road and into Tom's drive.

In the silence that followed the shutting down of the 4WD I heard a little car pull up. The council's garden inspector pulled up outside and sat looking at my award winning mud pie. He looked over at where I was standing and gave me a helpless little shrug. What could I do? I just spread my hands helplessly, he gave a wave and my potential award drove away.

I looked over the road to Tom's place. In my opinion the mud patch in my front yard just needed some decent fertiliser to assist a brand new lawn to grow. Tom's body would sink into that mud and no-one would ever notice, or even miss the bastard.

While I watched, the door to the 4WD pooped open and little Sharon, Tom's wife, hopped down. Up until then I'd always thought she was a nice young woman. Fun, and rather flirty. Now my opinion wasn't expressible in mixed company.

She came wandering over to me, turned, and looked at the damage.

"That thing is harder to drive than I thought," she said with a laugh. "It's made a bit of a mess of your lawn, hasn't it."

I looked at her.

"A bit of a mess," I said, trying desperately to keep a civil tone when I wanted to jump up and down, ranting.

"Um, I'll be happy to buy you some more lawn seed," she said.

How nice. I wondered if she'd be happy to supply all the hours of work that would be required to fix the problem.

"Um, I'd just as soon you didn't mention this to Tom," she said. "I'm not supposed to drive his car and he'd kill me if he found out."

"Really? And where is Tom right now? I suspect he may notice the mud on the car."

"Oh, he's away for a few days. I'll just hose the car down and wash the mud off. The forecast is for more rain tonight and tomorrow so that'll help was the mud of the path."

How nice for her. More rain coming down on that mud-pile out front just might make my house sink into it, never to be seen again.

"Ah, you're not upset, are you. I know you like gardening and it'll give you something to do."

"Why should I be upset. I might have missed out on the gardening award for the year, and have a lot of hard work ahead of me fixing the damage, but I look on the bright side. I haven't been arrested yet for killing you."

Sharon blinked at that.

"You are upset, aren't you? I suppose this means that you're going to tell Tom."

"Well it's either tell Tom and let him deal with you or drag you inside and beat your bottom like a big bass drum, so it seems that yes, I will be telling Tom."

Sharon promptly got all huffy.

"That's so unfair. You know what he's like about his car. It wasn't really my fault, and he's going to be so mad at me."

She paused while she considered what I'd actually said.

"What did you mean, beat my bottom?" she asked.

I cast my eyes to the heavens.

"Sharon, it's only rigid self-control that has stopped me putting you over my knee and spanking your pretty little tush so hard that you spend the rest of the weekend lying on your tummy. Go home, Sharon."

She definitely didn't want Tom knowing.

"What if I say I'll take the spanking?" she asked.

"And just how would you explain a bright red bottom to Tom," I asked. "And he'd probably find out anyway so you'd finish up with the spanking and Tom's anger."

"Tom will be away for another three days," stated Sharon, "and the red should be gone by then. If someone else tells him I'll just deny it and say it wasn't me but someone in a car like his. I'll point out that if it had been me driving his car that did the damage then you'd have been over complaining."

She thought fast, I'll give her that. I was glaring at her, but I couldn't help but notice that she was a cute and sexy little number. I was strongly tempted but thought I'd better give her another chance to back out.

"Sharon, if I spank you, it will be on your bare bottom. You'll be lying across my knee, effectively naked from the waist down. Actually, I'm so angry I'll probably make you strip naked."

A look that I couldn't interpret crossed Sharon's face and then it was gone. She seemed to give a little shiver and then nodded.

"OK," she said. "I have made a terrible mess of your lawn, haven't I."

The next moment she turned around and walked into the house.

I flung my hands into the air again and then followed her in. Was I really going to put her across my knee and spank her? Damn right I was. I wouldn't necessarily insist on making her take of her clothes, but her bottom was definitely going to be warmed up.

Sharon had, correctly, assumed that I would want to spank her in the bedroom. As soon as she'd stepped inside she'd turned and stepped into the bedroom.

When I followed her in I found that she'd already taken off her top and was sliding down her slacks. For a little woman she certainly filled that lacy bra with a decent handful. I watched, not believing that it was really happening, as Sharon tossed her slacks to one side and then slid down her panties, her bottom wiggling from side to side as they went down. Then she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, and let it drop down her arms. Then she was naked, facing me with her hands crossed demurely in front of her, covering her pussy. But not her breasts. They were jutting forward, nipples erect.

For a moment I thought she might have been trying to seduce me to get out of the spanking, but she turned to the bed and bent over it.

"Do you want to start spanking like this?" she asked, an odd tremor in her voice. "You could then have me bend over your knee later."

She was looking over her shoulder, watching me, her bottom pertly lifted, waiting.

I shrugged mentally. She had a lovely body but a spanking I'd promised and a spanking she'd get. My hand came down with a firm swat. Sharon squealed and seemed to bounce, but she kept her bottom right there where I could spank it. Another hard swat on the other cheek brought the same result. A squeal and a bounce while she settled, and then her bottom was offered for another swat.

The spanking continued like this for a while, and I eventually noticed some oddities. Although Sharon's bottom was obviously stinging and she had tears in her eyes, she also had an oddly smug look on her face. Further, when she settled after each hard swat, her legs seemed to drift that little bit further apart.

When the spanking had started her legs had been closed. Now they were spread far enough to give me an excellent view of her pussy, and it was flushed and her lips seemed to be standing slightly proud, flowering a little. There were beads of moisture apparent along her slit.

I'm not sure how many spanks I'd given her, but Sharon's face was now flushed as she looked over her shoulder to watch me deliver the next swat.

"Stand up," I snapped, and Sharon hastened to jump to her feet. This time when she turned to face me she kept her hands by her side, no longer trying to give a token cover to her body.

I turned and sat on the bed, then indicated that she should bend over my knee. She did so with a certain amount of alacrity, and I wasn't sure if this was so the spanking would be over faster or because it meant that the spanking would resume faster. I suspected the latter.

I delayed the resumption of the spanking. I just sat there, massaging her bottom, my hand coming very close to her pussy but not quite touching. It only took a few moments and she was twitching under me. Her legs had drifted apart again and she was humping her bottom a little higher, anxiously waiting.

"You've been a naughty girl, haven't you?" I said, still idly rubbing her rump.

There was no answer, so I lifted my hand and brought it firmly down. Sharon squealed, and when I repeated the question she hastened to answer me.

"Yes, yes, I have. I'm sorry. Please don't beat me any more."

I can recognise a cue when I hear one. My hand came down sharply again.

"I'll decide when your beating is finished. Understand?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir," Her bottom was lifted again in supplication and I followed through with a couple of firm spanks which were met with appropriate squeals and apologies.

"Not only did you misbehave outside," I told her, "but you presumed when you came inside."

I gave her a firm spank that landed very neatly along her pussy.

"Did I give you permission to take your panties off," I thundered, giving her another spank there.

"No, sir. I'm sorry, sir," she wailed, writhing against me, and I could feel her assessing the rigid bar that was pressing against her side.

Reaching around her I took a breast in one hand, squeezing it and shaking it.

"Did I tell you to actually take your bra off?" I said, receiving another denial and apology.

I delivered a few more hard spanks to make sure she had the message that I was in charge of this spanking.

I finally spun her back to her feet. She actually had a couple of tear tracks running down her cheeks now, but she looked almost unbearably excited.

I slowly took off my trousers, but Sharon knew better than to look down. She just kept looking straight ahead.

"I think you should kneel and show me you're sorry," I told her. "After that I will put you on your hands and knees and really beat you, just to make sure the lesson sinks in."

Without a word, Sharon sank to her knees and her mouth closed over my erection. She went enthusiastically to work on it, eager to show how sorry she was. And she was skilled at what she was doing. She knew just how to pleasure a man with her mouth and she was doing so, while making sure that she didn't go too far and cause me to ejaculate.

When I figured things were going too far I took her hair in my hand and pulled her away.

"Get up there," I told her, pointing to the bed, "on all fours, bottom high."

Hastily Sharon scrambled onto the bed. She quickly settled there, arms folded, head resting on her arms, looking expectantly towards me, while her knees were bent under her, spread wide and holding her bottom high in the air.

I settled on the bed behind her.

"You know what is about to happen?" I asked.

Sharon nodded frantically. "I've been a naughty girl and you're going to have to fuck me hard to teach me a lesson. You're going to fuck me really, really hard, aren't you."

That last was a request. Not a question. I answered by driving fully into her with hard vigorous stroke, my balls banging hard against her labia with that one hard thrust.

She was even more excited than I'd realised, and she climaxed as soon as I slammed into her, and I assure you that when I say slam, I mean slam.

Sharon screamed and convulsed, and all I could do was hold steady while she writhed under me. When she'd finally settled a bit I spoke.

"I didn't say you could climax just yet."

Sharon started gasping her apologies and then squealed as I pulled back and reintroduced her to my cock. Then I was pounding her hard and fast, while she squealed and screamed, saying something along the lines of "I'm sorry. Fuck me harder. Make me earn your forgiveness. Take me harder. Oh, god, I'm sorry. Harder, harder."

I was glad I didn't have to chastise Sharon every day. It would probably kill me. I did however do my best to punish her properly, driving home hard and often while she writhed and screamed under me.

It couldn't last, of course. Balls of steel I do not have. Soon I was banging home my climax, delivering my load with gusto. Fortunately, sweet little Sharon was willing to throw herself into her second climax, screaming and clamping onto my cock like a limpet.

Some people would be embarrassed after having their bottom spanked for a misdemeanour. Not Sharon. She vanished into my en suite and I heard the shower run. Then she came waltzing out, still drying herself. She tossed the towel on the bed and calmly got dressed. Then she gave me a smile, a wiggle of her fingers and was heading off home.

"Sharon," I called as she was heading out the door.

She paused and looked at me.

"It might be a good idea to keep out of my way for the next couple of days. I'm still awfully upset about my garden and if you came around I could very easily be tempted to spank you again."

Sharon blinked at that, then she smirked and headed on home.