Judging from the letters in Variations, it seems that quite a few spanking lovers are into role-playing, the woman’s bottom-warming occurring within a carefully crafted scenario. Some couples even use costumes to enhance the effect. Other couples are stimulated by the idea of spanking as discipline, with the woman deliberately provoking her man so that he’ll take the desired action.

Vincent and I are simply two mature, sexually sophisticated adults who find spanking a wickedly exciting prelude to sexual intercourse. We don’t have to spend time “creating the mood” 6r pretending to be something we’re not. All I have to do is quietly ask for a spanking, or have my husband say, even casually over dinner, “How long has it been since I’ve warmed your pretty bottom?” and the wheels are set in motion for what we both know will be an especially satisfying evening.

It isn’t always in the bedroom that I’m spanked. Vincent has warmed my bottom in the living room and dining room .as well. And the spanking before the last one was administered in his workshop in the basement. Clad in a halter and cutoff jeans, I had spent the afternoon working in the garden, and my body was glistening with sweat when I went to check on my husband and ask him what he wanted for dinner. He turned from the bookcase he was making, and when he saw me, a big smile spread across his handsome face. “You look terrific,” he said.

“I’m a mess,” I countered with a soft laugh. The first inkling I had that a spanking would be forthcoming was when Vincent asked me to turn around and then said, “Those jeans are just plastered to your ass, honey.” I could almost feel his eyes boring into my firm asscheeks, and when he stepped up behind me, his hands coming around to grasp and squeeze my breasts while he pressed his bulging cock against my bottom, my pulse quickened.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” my husband asked, his voice muffled by my hair.

“Here?”

For an answer, Vincent took my hand and led me to his workbench.I  remained silent, anticipation speeding up my heartbeat and further dampening my panties, as my husband placed his hand on my upper back and, with the slightest pressure, eased me down into position. I was now bent over the workbench, my face resting against the hard wooden surface, my ass, snugly sheathed in the tight cutoffs, thrust out in lewd invitation.

“God,” Vincent said, stepping back, “I’ll never get tired of looking at your marvelous tush. It just cries out for — ” He left the thought unfinished, and a moment later, the flat of his hand came crashing down against my bottom. I yelped, clenched my fists and braced myself for the next one.

It came, as did the one after that and the one after that, my husband, practiced spanker that he is, quickly establishing a smooth rhythm as he landed stinging blow after stinging blow For a while he alternated between cheeks, smacking one and then the other, and then, as is usually the case, he started mixing it up, slapping away in a seemingly haphazard fashion so that I never knew where the next blow would land. And all the while, I yelped and squealed and squirmed, my eyes filling with tears even as my pussy pulsed with ever-increasing need.

I had received maybe twenty-five smacks when Vincent stopped and gently pulled me erect. I leaned my head back against his shoulder and heard his raspy whisper in my ear. “Take down the jeans, honey.”

“Oh, God,” I groaned softly, the heat emanating from my pussy almost greater than that from my bottom. Hurriedly I undid the snap at the front of the cutoffs and worked them down over my hips, letting them fall in a crumpled heap around my feet. A moment later I was again bent over the workbench, this time with only my panties to shield my ass from Vincent’s hard hand. I waited, whimpering, and when the first blow to my panty-covered behind was delivered, I cried out and again screwed my eyes shut.

“Yes ... oh, yes,” my husband hissed, once again slapping away at my taut bottom. I knew that he was as excited as I was, that his swollen cock was straining in the confines of his jeans. The image of that cock, hard and throbbing, poised to enter me, served only to.fuel my lust.

Now, again, Vincent stopped spanking me and drew me up off his work-bench. He pressed against me from· behind, pushing what felt like a monstrous bulge against my burning backside. I knew my face was flushed as I whimpered my need. “Please, do it now. I need you now, baby.”

“You want me to take down your panties and fuck you?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

Vincent’s hand came around my hip and dipped down to my pussy, which he began stroking through my sodden underpants. I moaned softly as he teased me, his hand now sliding down inside my panties to cup my steaming sex. “Ten more,” my husband said. ’Lower your panties.”

I was half-crazed with desire as I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of the panties and quickly pushed them down. They remained banded about my thighs, just below my ass-cheeks, as Vincent again urged me into position over his workbench. He likes me to count off the spanks at this stage of a spanking, and this time was no exception. Dutifully, happily, I called out the number of each stinging slap, pushing my ass out to greet each one.

Tears were trickling down my flushed faced by the time it was all over, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing I wanted more at the moment than the feel of my husband’s hard cock barreling into my aching pussy. I pushed myself up to a standing position and turned to face him, one hand going down to squeeze his giant bulge as I planted my lips firmly on his. His hands went around to my flaming asscheeks, squeezing them and causing me to moan into his mouth.

Five minutes later, my husband and I were in the master bedroom and fucking furiously. The feel of the cool sheets on my burning bottom was wonderful and added to the pleasure of Vincent’s deep, steady thrusts into my pussy. The room filled with our gasps and grunts and groans, and I had a wicked orgasm before he suddenly pulled out and told me to turn over. Cock in hand, my husband paused briefly to savor the sight of my reddened behind while trailing his fingers over the still smarting flesh, and then again he was inside me, fucking me doggy-style now, an occasional smack on my ass causing me to cry out in surprise and gratitude.

A second, mind-clouding orgasm burst upon me seconds before I heard my husband’s savage moan and felt his semen start spurting inside me. When he had all but finished coming, he withdrew his cock from my pussy and smeared what semen remained in him on my glowing asscheeks. I slumped onto the bed, thinking that there was no better balm for an ass turned oven-hot by a spanking.