Given that Minnesota has beautiful summers, and given my love for swimming, I often liked going to Aunt Jane’s for the summer. She was my mom’s youngest sister, divorced and with no kids. When ever I was spanked, it was bare bum, no other way, and it was always, pants all the way down, then shirt up under my arms, then under pants all the way down, then I would reach across moms far thigh, and put myself in position. What was it like for you? There was a long pause. I could feel the beating of my own heart. Though I was confident that she wouldn't spank me, I was still a little uncertain. Aunt Christine's face seemed to be fraught with indecision. It seemed to make a decision. She started walking towards me. It wasn't a normal walk though. It seemed very deliberate. My mind told me to run from her. To get away, she wasn't bluffing at all! I tried to run, but my feat were frozen. I was paralyzed with fear. The fear of what she would do. When she reached me, she grabbed my ear, by the lobe. She started to pull me towards the door. Still, scared, I couldn't manage to move my feet. Suddenly, she gave me a sharp swat on my rear. That got me moving. As she marched me up the stairs, she started lecturing me. I was spanked as a teenager and was also 'turned on' by it. I think our hormones are more 'excitable' at that age, because I can't imagine it happening now!

I have a feeling, Mt Mather, that you will be asking for more of these before we have finished. But let’s see…’ When I was younger and misbehaved I was spanked by either of my parents whoever were home at the time. It was always the same ritual for me. First I would have to strip to just my underpants then stand in front of either my mum or my dad while they scolded me and lectured me on why I was going to be spanked then my underpants were pulled right down for me where I was then told to go over the knee for a very hard spanking

Notice: Copies of your message may remain on this and other systems on internet. Please be respectful. I never did well in school. I didn't really care. I had people to see, places to go, things to do. Besides, what did it matter? It was only 8th grade. I thought that I was a big deal. At 13, I was spoiled rotten. It was summer vacation. I loved summer. It was my chance to catch up on TV shows I missed and play video games that I loved. It was also a chance to sleep late and not have to deal with those annoying teachers. OWWWWWWW, because I acted like a child and bugged you when you were working causing you to make mistakes that might have caused the company to lose monies had you not caught them." My mom would take out the dining room chair she always used and have me stand there as she sat down.

When it’s cold and clear and dark enough to see the stars really shine, I put on the sweater she gave me, sit on the ground and look up. I feel warm though it’s night all over.[private] Marriage, Aunt Doris told me over Baked Alaska, was a bum deal. To be avoided at all costs. Enjoy youth and freedom while you’ve still got them. Keep on enjoying them even when they’re gone, that’s the secret. Aunt Doris was briefly married to a Hollywood millionaire. She thought both things, Hollywood and millionaire, would make her happy. She said she thought her dreams had suddenly come true. Two years later, she got a Mexican divorce and half the rich man’s loot. Maybe happiness was only a dream.She asked what I was thinking. I said I learned more from the last 3 hours than 4 years of college. Aunt Doris never finished high school. She never told me why she left home at 16, but I gathered it wasn’t a pleasant or pretty picture. Suddenly she wanted to talk about the past. I felt like I missed being spanked by my mother and after getting my courage up I went and seeked her out in the kitchen. People still flew around in silver Constellations in those days. Everything in America looked big, beautiful, full of hope and dreams. I parked my incredible new car as close to the runway as the law allowed, watched the gleaming airplane taxi, race its engines and take off towards the sunset. I waved at the porthole I thought might be filled by Aunt Doris’s face. I stayed on the runway till dark. Think nothing of it, and get those pants down too. Then bend forward over the table and hold the edges as far forward as you can reach. Your reaction is more common than you may realise, and changes nothing at all.’ Aunt Doris looked slightly haggard in the morning. Not hung-over. I knew what hangovers look like. Aunt Doris asked me to drive her to the nearest airport, about two hours away from College Town. There was a 7:30 flight for Los Angeles. She said she had to be on it. She had appointments in Tinseltown. Important appointments she couldn’t afford to miss.