Just released through their Publisher Partner program is this piece of spanking erotica, Ted and the Suburban Spanking Club. Don’t look for tender romance here with an HEA ending, this is a sex-and-spankfest of the old school variety. It’s mixed orientation because the action revolves around a weekly neighborhood poker game with winners, losers and all sorts of interesting forfeits. There are flashbacks with personal histories too, and they explain the motivations of these free-wheeling suburbanites. It’s all very 70’s in tone and feel. We return to that era of swingers and swappers in this one, only with a little added spanky spice.
Here is an excerpt:
“We still played that ping pong game that year,” ventured Amy.
“Yeah, but later…much later,” I said with a laugh.
“Want to play now?” said Amy with a coy smile.
“What–you want a rematch? From 20 years ago?”
“Why not? I’m game if you are.”
This was getting interesting. “You have a table?”
“In the basement,” she said, pointing towards a door in the kitchen. “The previous owner just left it–it…ah… hasn’t been used.”
“Same stakes as…before?” she said teasingly, letting it linger.
With my excitement building, I followed her down the steps. We pulled a dusty cover off of a ping-pong table standing in the middle of the room. There was a rack to the side with paddles and balls. Amy selected one and twirled it around, grinning.
“Two smacks per point?” she said.
“Two it is. Covering?”
“Hmmm, I’m out of practice. Let’s say two layers of protection, ok?”
“I’ll just bet you’re out of practice, but ok.”
She laughed and took up her position at the end of the table. The air was thick with sexual tension. Amy was mouthwateringly cute in her halter and shorts outfit.
“Your serve,” said Amy.
I took the ball and popped it her way. She returned. I countered. She missed.
1-0, my favor. We were both out of practice. It must have been ten years since I had played ping pong with anyone. The game was close though. When I smashed the final shot to Amy’s left, just out of reach, the final tally was 21-18.
“Looks like you’re more out of practice than me,” I said. “Time to pay up.”
“Uh, how about double or nothing? I needed a game just to warm up.”
“This was your idea, Amy. Sure I’ll give you another game.” She reached for the paddle and ball. “As soon as you pay up for this one.”
“Oh, ok,” she pouted. “Where do you want me?”
“You can just lean over the table. Stretch out and make yourself comfortable.”
Amy bent over the end of the table, making her lush posterior present nicely, stretching the tight fabric across her rump. The panty line of some French cut panties was clearly visible. I moved behind her and put my hand on her back. I tapped the ping pong paddle on her seat the pulled back and let fly for six stinging swats full across both luscious cheeks. I gave them to her slowly, about 5-10 seconds apart. She yipped a little at each one and jumped up rubbing her buns after no.6.
“Ok Mr Big Shot, how about next game only one layer of protection? hunhh?”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, but ok.”
I won that one too. This time 21-16. My semi-turgid cock sprang into full erection as Amy shimmied her shorts down to expose her luscious seat clad only in skimpy panties. She leaned over the table once more, pressing her upper body down, which had the effect of broadening and presenting the soft swells of her behind. I proceeded to lay on 10 solid swats with the ping pong paddle. The cracks of the paddle had a sharper sound, falling as they did on nearly bare fanny. Each swat made the flesh of her bottom ripple, and she sucked in her breath on a few of the swats that hit square across both cheeks of her lovely sit spot. After the 10, she stood up, rubbing.
“Whew, Ted, that stung a bit. I bet I’m all red back there,” she said looking over her shoulder to survey the damage. “You still know how to cook a girl’s butt, don’t you?”
“That’s why I’m here,” I said smugly.
“Ohh…you. I shouldn’t do this, but I want to get you good, you meanie. Tell you what. Give me one more chance. This time triple swats and loser has to bare all. How about it?” She eyed the bulge in my pants as she said this, confident that with Little Ted in control I would not say no.
I know I should have sensed that something was wrong here, but the infallible male in me could not resist. After all, I had bested her twice, and by comfortable margins. And, there was Little Ted to consider.
“I’ll just leave the shorts off while we play this one. You don’t mind do you?”
Mind? “Of course not,” I said. Later I would tell myself that it was the distraction of watching Amy cavort in skimpy panties and a halter that did it, but I know that that is hogwash. The fact is, she set me up. I was hustled. It wasn’t even close. She played like the top seed on the Chinese Olympic team. When the dust settled she had blown me away 21-7.
“You tricked me! You could play like a pro anytime you wanted.” I had to wonder if this wasn’t payback for my tryst with Diane. At the time I hadn’t thought Amy cared. Now I wondered.
“Ohh…poor baby. Now I seem to recall someone tricking me at the poker game Friday–several times in fact.”
“That’s the object in poker, not in ping pong,” I fumed. This logic was lost on her and she just clucked and shook her head, grinning from ear to ear.
“Well now Ted, time for the big payoff or payback, whatever. Let’s have you shuck the shorts, honey, I want to see that cute tush of yours.”
With a resigned sigh I dropped the shorts. My hard-on was now fully visible, poking out making a tent in the front of my briefs. “Ok, where do you want me?”
“Ted, I said this was bare. Take it all off–I want you naked as a jaybird.”
God, that’s right. She said “bare all”. Chagrined, I took off my shirt, shoes, and finally underpants leaving me in nothing but short white socks.
“You can leave the white socks on. It adds a nice touch.” She was glancing at my penis as she said this. It was sticking straight out. “I can see the idea of your impending paddling is not a totally unpleasant prospect,” she said with a giggle.
I felt ridiculous standing there naked while Amy looked around and found a chair. She dragged it away from the wall, plopping it in the center of the room. She sauntered over to the table and grabbed the ping pong paddle, then took a seat, smiling all the while. I just stood there in nothing but stupid white socks and a hard-on.
“Well Ted, let’s see. It was 21-7, that’s a margin of 14, so…”
I had already done the math–42 swats with the ping pong paddle. That’s the fate that awaited me. And it was bare butt, and yes it would sting.
“42, Amy, you know darn well what it is,” I said letting my arms flop at my sides. “Could we just get on with it?”
“Oh, you’re anxious for your spanking now, hunhh?” she said with a gleeful grin. “Well then get your little tushy over here. I think I better hold you down, so you can get right over my knee. I’ll do this this naughty boy style. How long since you’ve had a good old fashioned naughty boy bare ass tanning?” She asked this question with obvious relish at my predicament.
“It’s been awhile,” I said.
“Well let’s get you reacquainted with the experience. Bottoms up,” she said, patting her thigh with the paddle.
I eased myself face down over her lap. She parted her thighs to let my rock hard shaft slide between her legs. Then she clamped them together giving it a little squeeze. The friction was delicious and I nearly lost it. That wouldn’t do.
“Oh, my Ted, your buns are even cuter now that you’re all grown up, “she said, patting my hiney with the paddle. “How long has it been since you were in this position?”
“It’s been awhile but I have very warm memories, thank you.” Yeah warm, but not fuzzy.
I felt nothing but cool air for a moment then, splat! I think I heard the paddle’s crack before I felt the heat. Yeow! It stung alright. Then splat! again. And again. Yeow!
Amy kept up a running commentary as she paddled my rapidly warming tush. “Gee, Ted, (crack!) You sure look cute. (Crack! splat!) Just like a bad boy over momma’s knee. (Crack! Splat! Whap!) You should see the way your buns bounce. (Crack! Whack! Splat!) Bet you liked seeing me get my fanny tended to at the game Friday, didn’t you? (Splat! Whap!) Well, I really like tending to yours. (Crack! Splat! Whap!)”
If I wasn’t so busy dealing with the atrocious stinging the paddle was dishing out to my ass I might’ve been annoyed with Amy’s prattle. As it was there were two sensations competing for my attention. The first was the ping pong paddle whose sharp sting was getting more intense with every lick. The other was the pleasure from the sliding friction of my cock in the tight space between Amy’s thighs.
She gave me the full measure–42 stingers. When she was done I gingerly lifted myself up and rocked back on my heels, kneeling at her feet. I must have looked like some chastised slave boy, punished by his mistress for disobedience, as I winced and rubbed my inflamed seat.
“Oh, did that smart Ted?” she asked with feigned innocence. “I do hope so. You’ve been entirely too cocky. Yes, too cocky…whoa,” she added looking at the aforementioned cock which was hard as blue steel and pointing right at her.
“Stand up. Come here.”
I stood and approached her. She pulled me to her and leaned over taking my shaft between her lips. I moaned as she slid her lips over my turgid rod. She made little “mmmm” sounds as she sucked enthusiastically. When she swirled her tongue around it I almost lost it again, but gritted my teeth and tried to think about baseball statistics.
“Mmmm, Ted,” she purred, standing up and doffing her top. She had lovely breasts, full round, and high set. Then she slid out of her panties. We came together, our lips finding each other. I crushed her body to mine. She ground her hips against me, the top of my shaft sliding along the lips or her moist slit. I gently massaged the ass I had paddled, squeezing it.
“I’m ready for you,” she said in a throaty whisper. I looked around. Where?
She read my mind. “Ping pong table” she said, and bent down over it offering her rump yet again, this time spreading her legs to accord me entry. I slid in. She was wet and tight. My sliding motion gathered momentum and she began to buck in response. “Ping pong paddle,” she croaked huskily, “use it on me while you fuck me.”
I needed no further urging. I picked up the paddle and smacked the side of her ass as I rode her, pulling back and thrusting again. All the while I urged her on with splats from the paddle.
“Oh…yes…yes…harder…” she groaned as I pumped and smacked her behind with the paddle. We both came nearly simultaneously, bucking and bumping out of control.
The second time was slower–and upstairs in bed, but it took us awhile to get around to supper. In the afterglow, passion spent, Amy and I talked.
“I’m glad you’re here, Ted. I missed you. All those years, I wondered if our paths would cross again,” she said snuggling her head into my chest as I lay on my back.
I stroked her hair. “Yeah, me too. But I have to ask. How did all this happen? The game and all that?”
She shrugged. “It just did. The girls are divorced or still single, but hold down high pressure jobs. Who has time to date? And, as you may have noticed there aren’t that many good prospects around in the man department. Diane pines for her husband who died, us divorcees have had it with flaky men. So when interesting guys move in, we give them a test drive. Can you blame us?”
I said I couldn’t. “But what about jealousy? It’s bound to happen, you know.” I was thinking of her set up of the Ping Pong game. That smacked of jealousy to me, but I held my tongue.
“Oh, it happens, I guess, but we sort of made a pact—share and share alike. Oh, I think Jill really likes Kyle, but part of that is their dominant-submissive bond. I can see Diane likes you, but I’m ok with that.”
I made a mental note to quote her on that when the time came. Soon the topic turned to the next game.
“We’ll wear costumes. The girls can come dressed as French maids or schoolgirls…or maybe schoolmarms, the boys can be headmasters or Little Lord Fauntleroy or whatever. What do you think?”
Inwardly I groaned. Costumes at a Friday night poker game. Sacrilege. Only women would think of such a thing.
“Sounds great,” I said. “I can’t wait.” And, you know, I couldn’t.