Betsy howled and cried like crazy, and she kicked her legs so hard that her shoes, pants, and panties were on the bedroom floor by the time her dad stopped spanking. I'd never seen another girl naked until that moment, and I think it was that and the strangely loving things Betsy's dad said as he spanked and later as he hugged her to him that made me think I'd just seen the most intimate father-daughter thing in the world.

Betsy's dad gave me a little hug and told me I was forgiven and to behave from then on when he released his sniffling daughter, and it was then that I first recall being envious of my exclusion from the bond Betsy and her dad shared.

Why hadn't he pulled down my panties and spanked me like his own daughter? Why didn't he love me that much?

I realized a few years later that I wasn't Betsy's dad's natural daughter so he was only following propriety, but I'd been neglected too long by then and felt angry about not being able to satisfy my desire. I turned into a huge brat after the first spanking and got spanked by Betsy's dad a number of times, but he never took down my pants so it didn't matter that he really warmed my bottom long and hard a few times and hugged away my tears like he did with his daughter.

No, for me, it had to bare bottom or nothing, and since I never got Betsy's dad to do it when I wanted it so much, my curiosity and desire drove me to seek satisfaction in the only ways I could. I fantasized about it all the time and, though Betsy never knew, I sometimes deliberately enticed her into doing naughty things so I could get spanked and dreamily watch her dad spank her bare bottom.

My fascination with spanking never ended, but my chances for anything more than memories and fantasies did when Betsy and I turned 13 and her dad decided we were too old for such a childish punishment. I was too young to realize the withdrawal I felt at something so special being taken away led to frustration and anger, but it did and I became even more of a brat.

I was one of the prettier girls in town and had a good amount of boys interested in me, but none of them realized what I wanted and so they let me have my way, which always ended up with me telling them to get lost so I could keep looking for a man like Betsy's dad, only without the nudity hang-up.

Unfortunately, I never found him. I did find a lover who liked playing spanking games and getting his hands on my bare bottom, but it wasn't real enough to make me feel like my dream had finally come true. I also had an older male boss who threatened to spank me a few times, but when I tried to push and shove him into doing it, he backed down.

My husband is like my spanking lover. He's a good, fine man and tries to satisfy my needs, but he refuses to consider punishing me and probably never will. Maybe it's too late for me to live out my dream of getting my bare bottom spanked by a father figure anyway, but I refuse to toss away my hope that I'll turn a corner someday and fall over my dream man's knee.

I'll never be 9 or 13 again, but my memories of Betsy's bare bottom bouncing and blushing over her dad's knee are still clear and exciting, and so are the fantasies those intimate father-daughter ceremonies first inspired so long ago.

I hope you'll use this letter and that it will cause other women like me or Betsy to write in. Good old-fashioned, father-daughter spankings are my favorites, and vicariously living out my fantasies is still better than nothing.