I had just experienced the most adventurous three days of my life. I was coming back from a canoeing trip with Joliet. She had ordered silence so that I could better contemplate the spankings I received over the past few days. And contemplate them I did-- the soreness in my bottom made me lean on my hip as I watched her drive the VW van through the rural Canadian roads. They certainly reinforced the allure spanking had represented for so long. Yes, I was very excited as I looked down at Joliet’s beautiful expanse of lap.

My fascination with spanking began at an early age. At the dusk of the forties and dawn of the fifties there was enough spanking going around for me to watch and be a part of. My first spanking experience with a woman other than my Mom was given by our neighbor, Mrs. Capolla. She was an attractive woman of cheery disposition in her late forties who always wore sun dresses, even in the winter. She always seemed to be outside of her house when I came home from school. Once in a while, she would threaten to spank me and pinch my cheeks if I was being too mischievous (tsk friends - the ones on my face). I giggled with excitement and enjoyed seeing her smiling face as she shook her finger at me. I felt a strange attraction to her - she made me feel funny down there.

One day I just felt like not being in school. I told my grade school teacher I wasn’t feeling well. For a number of different reasons, the only one who could take me home was Mrs. Capolla.

I was sitting outside the principal’s office when Mrs. Capolla came in. She wasn’t her cheery self.

"How do you feel Milton?" She walked over to me and put her hand to my forehead. She spoke to the principal for a bit and I could sense they knew I was faking. It was late fall and warm out as we walked home. We were having an Indian Summer.

When we got home my grandmother and Mrs. Capolla decided that I needed my temperature taken They asked me to come into the living room. I expected the usual oral thermometer and was astonished to see that Mrs. Capolla held a rectal one. She asked me to come to her. I crossed the room slowly and she unbuttoned my slacks and shucked down my briefs as I stood shamefully before her. She patted her big lap and I obediently climbed over her legs. My "pee pee" felt comfortable resting on her cushiony thighs.

I looked in the curio mirror across the room and could see as well as feel Mrs. Capolla spreading my bottom cheeks and inserting the thermometer. She rested her big hand on my little tush, holding the thermometer between her fingers. My grandmother and Mrs. Capolla talked some more and I remember feeling tingly down there. The thermometer was removed, the temperature reading checked, and still she held me firmly across her knee.

"Milton," Mrs. Capolla asked, "Did you lie to your teacher when you said you were feeling sick?" She rubbed my naked bottom as she asked and I could only tell the truth.

"You know you shouldn’t lie, Milton. I think you need to be punished. A good sound spanking will stop you from lying. Don’t you agree?" She looked at my grandmother who nodded in approval.. Before I could say anything I saw Mrs. Capolla’s large hand rise above her head.

SMACK! Her whole palm slapped down against my tender bottom.

"Naughty boy, Milton!" SMACK! SPANK! SLAP! "I’m ashamed of you! Lying to your grandmother like that! This spanking will teach you a lesson, you bad boy!" She continued to spank and scold me for lying, as I cried and kicked on her lap.

They say you can’t remember pain, but I certainly remember the agony of that spanking. Mrs. Capolla spanked on for five minutes, then abruptly stopped. She turned me over, sat me up on her lap, and let me cry into her bosom.

"There, there, Milton. It’s all right. You’ll be a good boy now." It’s amazing that after what she did to me, I felt so much love for this woman at that time.

Well, ideals changed as we entered the sixties, and spanking seemed to dissipate with the simpler years of the fifties. There were some spanking moments on T.V. and in the movies, but I assumed spanking would leave my life forever. I was wrong.

In the late sixties I graduated from City College with a degree in English. At a graduation party I met a couple from Alberta Canada visiting friends in New York. Their names were Rebecca and Jim. We got to talking and they invited me to stay at their place which was just west of Edmonton. I had no other commitments that summer and thought about doing some writing. Could there be a better place to write than in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies? I accepted their kind offer.

I drove to Spruce Grove without any problems. Upon my arrival, I shook Rebecca and Jim’s callused hands and offered any assistance during my stay. Rebecca wouldn’t hear any nonsense - I was a guest and there to write.

For the next couple of days I watched them feed their livestock, mend fences and chop wood. At night Jim and I drank beer and I told dirty jokes. Jim laughed and Rebecca shook her finger at me.

The next afternoon I took a short hike. On the way back, as I entered the field that surrounded the house, I heard what sounded like slapping. I walked over to the house and heard crying and more slapping. The crying was coming from a male throat.

Jim was getting a spanking!

I sneaked over to the window, and was pleasantly shocked at what I saw. The whole scene was happening in the living room. Jim was stretched out across Rebecca lap and she was spanking his bare rump with her hand. I couldn’t believe what I was watching. I turned my head to see if Rod Serling was preparing a monologue for "The Twilight Zone". A huge wooden brush rested on the coffee table in front of them. Jim was kicking his legs and his bottom was a bright red dotted by purple blotches. I heard Rebecca scold "James" for drinking too much. He was pleading for forgiveness.

I felt myself become aroused. Rebecca was a good looking woman. She was about 5’5" with long blond hair in a pony tail, wide hips, and short muscular legs. She was a strong person; I’d seen her chop wood for long periods of time.

She held him firmly over her naked legs as she slapped him across his crack. I noticed Jim’s testicles rub against her tanned skin as he churned and pivoted, trying to avoid her punishing palm.

I was too excited. I took out my erection and quickly relieved myself. I felt very ashamed in that instant for I didn’t consider myself a peeping Tom.

Rebecca suddenly turned toward me and I ducked down. Damn! I think she saw me. I crept out of sight and walked around for a while. I heard a different pitch of spanking come from inside. I gathered she switched to the hairbrush. Then the volume of crying became louder too.

The spanking ended 10 minutes later, but I stayed outside for another twenty minutes. I wasn’t about to embarrass anybody by walking in. I kicked some twigs and hummed a "Canned Heat" tune. I had just witnessed a good ol’ hippie "spank in".

Rebecca and Jim soon came out and I knew Jim was sporting a heated can. Rebecca walked around to where I had watched the spanking and Jim asked about my hike.

"Stimulating!" I replied.

That evening, during our usual beer drinking time, I drank solo. Rebecca seemed angry with me and started a mini-inquiry. I became defensive.

"Well Milton. You have been here for four days now. Have you written anything?"

I looked at Jim. He looked away and I said, "No, not yet."

"Well, what do you want to write about?" Her tone was serious.

I thought a moment and replied with all the cynicism I could muster, "Life! Giving! Anything different than I’m used to. I’ve been over-exposed to books, the city, and superficial people. I want to write about existence."

She looked at me and smirked. "O.K. you pseudo hippie-dippie. My friend helps run a tourist shop in town. I’ll call her and maybe she can help you."

"What did she have in mind?" I thought to myself.

"How could she help me? Is she the Canadian Dalai Lama come down from Mt. Alberta with the knowledge of the Gods?" I snapped in my sassiest voice.

Rebecca pursed her lips and her forehead wrinkled. "No," she replied. "I’ll ask her to stop by tomorrow. I think you two will... hit it off."

I turned toward Jim again and he was looking at everything in the room but me.

Rebecca could sense my apprehension. "Relax Milton. You like to go canoeing don’t you? Well, Joliet is a part time guide. I figure you and her can take a little trip. Go fishing, hike a little...see a bit of Canada."

It was 1969 and there was supposed to be a lot of trust and love going around, but I still felt funny being set up with a woman I didn’t know to go trampling off in the woods with.

"She’s a pretty woman, Milton. Your age. Her mom is Black Foot Indian and her father is half French and I think she said Hungarian - gypsy, or something. She’s a bit taller than you are, but I don’t think Joliet will mind."

I gave her a sour look at that last remark, but I could see she was kidding. My mind was spinning. After the spanking I’d witnessed today, the idea of camping in the woods with a strange woman and the beer made me dizzy.

"O.K.! Groovy! Call her up and give her the go ahead." I started to sweat with anticipation. Jim rubbed his chin and gave me a worried look. Rebecca... Well, Rebecca smiled like the Cheshire cat.

I went to bed late that night and it must have been around noon when I was awakened by a sharp slap on my behind. I rolled over. There, in a buckskin mini skirt, stood Joliet. She was about 5’10" tall with long coal black hair and ocean blue eyes. Joliet had olive skin, high cheekbones, and the build of a professional athlete.

"Good afternoon Milton," she said sardonically, towering above me. "I’m Joliet."

I was tongue tied and immobilized by surprise and her exotic beauty. The only thing I could say was "How!"

"With my paddle and my hand once in a while."

"Huh!?"

"Do you want to go canoeing or not lazy boy?"

"Yeah. Groovy! But I didn’t pack yet."

"You didn’t pack yet?" Joliet started to fume. "I left work early to take you canoeing and you didn’t pack yet? What impertinence!" She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Get over here right this second!"

"Huh! Why? What are you going to do?"

"I want you over my knee right this instant. I’m going to spank some manners into you!"

"I’m sorry. It will just take me a little while to get ready," I was suddenly frightened.

She yanked the sheets off of me and I was naked. I had my "morning erection" and tried to cover myself with my hands. Joliet grabbed me by the ankle. She pulled me down to her side of the bed. Half of me struggled and the other half wanted a spanking. After a minor tussle, I found myself over her thighs. My hard penis was stuck between her legs and my right arm was pinned to my back.

"You will be sorry!"

SMACK!

Her firm hand landed on the center of my bottom.

SMACK!

"I want you downstairs in 15 minutes; packed, showered, and ready to go! Understand me young man?"

SMACK!

"Yes! I’m sorry. I’ll be ready!"

"Yes you will!" SMACK! "I have all the supplies we need. Now, don’t dawdle or you will get more of this!"

SPANK!

"OWWW!"

She let me up and left the room. I looked at my bottom in the bureau mirror and could see her pink hand prints on my tush. Damn! I’d only known this woman for 10 minutes, and she played patty cakes on my butt. Some introduction. It was strange, but I was both glad yet disappointed that the spanking ended so quickly.

I caught up with Joliet in the kitchen talking to Rebecca. Both ladies looked at me with their arms folded.

"Are you ready?" Joliet asked, with a scornful gaze.

"Yes Ma’am!" I answered, feeling very embarrassed. I knew that Rebecca knew.

Rebecca made me a sandwich, kissed my cheek and as we left said, "Enjoy your paddling!?!" I shot her a look over my shoulder. "Your canoe trip silly!"

Joliet was giggling as we got into her van. I threw a peace sign at Jim and Rebecca as we left.

Joliet explained she wore the buckskin outfit for the tourists and when we got to the launch site, she would change. I told her not to change on my account because I liked getting a wake-up spanking from the "Land O’ Lakes" butter model. I got a smile out of that one.

We drove due west for an hour, getting to know each other better. I was a bit embarrassed, but I told Joliet about the spanking incident I witnessed the day before.

Joliet gave me a sharp look and explained that she and Rebecca did not tolerate foolishness from their men. She explained that spanking was healthy in that it relieves stress. Her parents were advocates of spanking and she and her two younger brothers often felt the sting of the hairbrush.

Almost in warning, she informed me that she spanked her younger brothers.I started to get excited when she spoke the word "spanking". I began shifting around in my seat. Joliet noticed the bulge in my shorts. She spoke about spanking like it was a common occurrence; an everyday event. She smiled and continued to say that naughty boys had to learn to respect the women in their lives.

We turned off the main road onto a dirt one. This led up to a farm with a river running by it. We were greeted by a couple in their fifties. After a short chat with Joliet’s friends, they agreed to take the van to the pick-up site. Then we prepared to leave.

Joliet asked me if I had any white water experience. I told her I did, but I lied. Macho, macho man. Big mistake, friends. Big mistake. She took the stern (very appropriate) and I, the bow (later to bend...over).

We paddled along for a while and Joliet said the rapids were coming up. After the bend in the river, I started to panic at what I saw.

"We’re gonna die!" I blurted out.

"Excuse me?" Joliet shouted back.

"I never did this before! We’re not gonna make it. What’ll I do?"

"Calm down Milton! Listen to me! Just paddle fast on your right side! If I yell ‘switch’, go to the left! Got it?"

I was petrified.

"Milton! Do you have it?"

"Yes! Yes!"

Joliet was a pro! She steered the canoe as if it were part of her body. I did what she commanded and soon we were through the rapids. The sensation was exhilarating. I took a deep breath and turned to smile at Joliet. If a person’s eyes could be on fire, Joliet’s were. The intensity of her stare made my neck hair stand up.

She spoke after a few minutes and said there would be a clearing down the river soon. We would make camp there. I knew I was in for it. I felt like the "wait till your father comes home" kid. The waiting was worse than the pre-rapid jitters.

We got to the clearing, made camp, and Joliet suggested that we bathe. It would help keep the black flies away. We both stripped and washed with Dr. Bronner’s soap. I peeked at Joliet’s lovely body and started to get aroused. After a few minutes I turned to see Joliet starting toward me. I felt a chill up my naked backside.

She smiled and took my hand. "It’s time."

To this day, I don’t know why I thought Joliet wanted to make love.

She walked me over to a tree stump. As she turned to face me, my erection grazed her wet thigh. She looked down at the side of the tree stump and I followed her gaze. Resting against the stump was a wooden hairbrush. My eyes locked with hers. She grabbed me by the arm, and in one motion sat down, pulling me across her lap. I didn’t struggle. Instead, I made gasping sounds of fear.

"You lied to me!!" Her voice was as fierce as the look in her eyes back at the rapids had been. I felt my neck hair standing up again. Then my legs tried to stand up!

For the next twenty minutes, I wished I was unconscious.

SPANK! CRACK! SLAP!

"We could have been killed!!"

CRACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Remember the question: ‘If a bottom is spanked in the forest, does it make a sound?’ She spanked me so hard and loud that each spank vibrated through the woods like gunshots. I screamed and begged for forgiveness.

After 100 spanks or so (who counted?), she stopped. I was a weeping mess. A black fly on the wall looked down upon me and saw a molten lump of buttock. He flew away as I crawled off her wet lap and sobbed into the ground. She came over and hugged me, letting me cry into her moist breasts.

"I’m sorry Momma. I’ll be good. I won’t lie anymore."

"I know honey, but I’m going to have to spank you again tomorrow for being a peeping Tom. And you know you must tell Rebecca what you did."

I looked up at her through tear blurred eyes and nodded in agreement.

The next night I found myself over Joliet’s thighs again and she hand spanked me by the light of the camp fire. The spanking was hard enough to make me cry and the resounding slaps were echoed by an owl’s hoots!

The canoe trip back was a painful ordeal, but I made it. And even through the incredible soreness, I never felt so alive. Especially as I squirmed on the seat of the van, following her orders and contemplating the spankings I received on the trip.

When we got to Rebecca’s and Jim’s home the following night, I confessed to Rebecca about what I did. I felt Joliet’s watchful eyes on me during the entire, halting confession. Rebecca was outraged and I gave Jim that worried look he gave me three days earlier.

"A spanking is in order for this, don’t you think, Joliet?" Rebecca said.

"I agree. A good sound one too!"

"Hey! Don;t I have a voice in this?" I didn’t like these two ganging up on me.

"You don’t have a voice in this Milton. You have an appointment with destiny, naughty boy. My hand and this hairbrush. Karma baby, karma." Rebecca grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Jim was asked to leave the house. I was told to take my shorts off. Rebecca sat down on the infamous sofa.

"Get over my knee this instant!"

I got.

"Hmmm! This won’t do. Your tushy is too hairy. I like to spank a clean bottom. Do me a favor Joliet? There is a razor and cream in the bathroom. Would you get it please?"

Joliet helped Rebecca shave my buttocks, scolding me like I was a little boy. The humiliation was overwhelming and some pre-spanking tears fell from my eyes. I was dried and powdered like a baby.

Satisfied with my shaved heinie, Rebecca scolded, caressed my bottom and then began to spank. She hand spanked me for being a peeping Tom and hairbrush spanked me for masturbating outside her window.

I was spanked again the next day by Joliet because I hadn’t told her about what I did outside while I watched Jim’s spanking. By then, my tush wished I was Gratefully Dead.

Soon after, Joliet and I became woman and husband. I write quite a bit now, and I’m punctual if I have to meet a deadline. Joliet makes sure of that.

I’m taken over Joliet’s lovely legs every other day to get my bottom shaved. I’m spanked regularly, of course, by Joliet and sometimes by Rebecca, too. "James" gets it from both ladies also.

You see, I have no choice in the matter. I collect fishing lures and Joliet collects hairbrushes. The hairbrushes come as unexpectedly as the spankings do. I dread those days when a certain visitor comes to our door.

Knock! Knock!

"I’ll get it Joliet!"

Knock! Knock!

"Who is it?"

"Fuller Brush man."

Oh no!!! Well, it was all worth missing Woodstock for.