Duncan Fox - Spankin mommy

"Does she date at all?"

Charlie shook his head. "Not really. She's been sort of seeing a guy, Eric Jameson, but not really dating."

"Think she'll get married again?"

Charlie shook his head. "She loved Dad too much. She'll never forget him. I'm the man of the house now."

"So what are you going to do, fuck her?" Ann asked.

"God no!" Charlie answered automatically, shocked.

"Why not? She's pretty and young," Ann observed.

"She's old."

"Not more than forty, I'd bet," Ann retorted.

"But she's my mother!"

"If I'd like to fuck my father, why shouldn't you want to fuck your mother?" Ann asked logically.

Unsettled, Charlie shut the discussion off. "I don't want to talk about it. We better get home."

Gathering up the blanket, they made their way to the car. The cool night air dried the cum and sweat on their naked bodies. Once there, they got out their clothes and dressed. Ann produced a pair of panties from her purse and pulled them on.

"So Daddy will have something to take down when I get home." She giggled.

"You really like to get spanked, don't you?" Charlie asked.

"It turns me on. And it proves they love me. You should be so lucky."

"Mom would never spank me," Charlie sighed.

"Why don't you ask her?" Ann suggested.

Charlie shook his head and slipped behind the wheel. Wordlessly, he turned the car around. He pondered the idea all the way home, parked the car and crept quietly into the dark house. Maybe his mother was asleep and wouldn't know when he had gotten home. He couldn't stand her hurt looks when he failed her, he really couldn't.

Ellen Jameson stood facing her father. Her head was down slightly. Her red curls tumbled over the shoulders of her baby dolls. Even with the slight, defensive hunch to her shoulders, her tits thrust out impressively against the soft cotton. Her nipples shifted with every tense breath. Her hands were clasped in front of her crotch where her panties bunched tightly between her thighs. Her legs and feet were clamped together. Her blue eyes, shadowed by her hair, glowed. The flush in her cheeks had made her freckles fade out a little. Her lips shifted nervously. She licked them tensely.

Eric Jameson was sitting in a straight-backed chair, eyeing his daughter, his expression stern rather than angry. "You acknowledge that you were late?" he asked. He was wearing a terrycloth bathrobe which belted around the waist.

"Yes, Daddy."

"You know you're to be punished?"

"Yes, Daddy." There was a touch of husky breathless in her voice.

"How late were you?" he asked.

"Fif-fifteen minutes," Ellen stammered tensely. She twisted her fingers together nervously. Her eyes glittered with excitement.

"It's the second time this week you've been late," he pointed out.

"Ye-yes, Daddy," Ellen agreed. Her tits were rising and falling dramatically. Her nipples were getting hard.

"Get the paddle," he said softly.

"Yes, Daddy," she agreed in the same soft, hot tone. Turning her back on him, she went over to the bureau and took down the ping-pong paddle hanging beside the mirror. The motion made the hem of her top rise up and expose the generous roundness of her ass, the ruffled edge of the panties where the elastic clutched the softness of her butt.

Her thighs scissored smoothly as she walked back to her father. A wisp of dark-red hair curled against one thigh. She handed him the paddle and stood in front of him.

"Take your panties down," he ordered.

Ellen obeyed. She lifted the top and hooked her thumbs in the waistband of the panties. She skinned them down her legs and stepped out of them daintily. A tantalizing hint of red cunt hair showed below the bottom edge of the baby dolls.

"Over my knee," Eric Jameson ordered inexorably, showing no visible interest in his daughter's exposure.

Biting her lower lip, Ellen moved to one side, then bent and folded herself over her father's lap. She lowered herself slowly until she could curl one arm around his naked calf, the other around the leg of the chair. Her hair brushed the floor as she hung head downward over his lap. The pajama top was up around her shoulders. Her buttcheeks gleamed softly. The crack of her ass was dark and exciting.

Her boobs sagged heavily because of her inverted position, the nipples and areolas pink and alertly hard, highly aroused. The red bush of her pussy was visible between her pale, rounded thighs.

Erie Jameson gripped the paddle firmly in his right hand. With his left, he gently stroked her fanny, first one cheek, then the other. Then he slid his hand down the smooth slope of her back and held her shoulders firmly down. He flexed his fingers around the handle of the paddle. He raised it slowly, and brought it down on the buttcheek farthest from him with a ringing crack.

Ellen made no sound, but jerked as if hit with an electric shock. Her grip on her father's leg tightened.

Shifting, he moved his free leg to trap Ellen's so she couldn't kick free. She was now draped over one leg only. Then, with his daughter effectively immobilized, he brought the paddle down sharply on her other cheek. Already, the first one was reddening, blushing.

Ellen jerked again, but still made no sound. Her nipples got more flushed and erect. Her face was reddening from her inverted position. Her forehead was shiny with sweat.

The paddle cracked down a third time. She moaned very, very softly as her asscheek reddened still more. She tightened her grip on the chair leg and her father's leg. The paddle descended on her bottom again. She whimpered.

Eric Jameson wielded the paddle with slow deliberation, carefully alternating asscheeks. He kept his eyes focused firmly on his target. He slid the hand on Ellen's shoulder down slightly and gripped the back of her neck. He tightened his leg grip on her, too.

Ellen's eyes were squeezed tight shut. Tears oozed from them, felt their way hesitantly through her red eyebrows to her forehead. Her lips were stretched in a grimace of pain, her teeth clenched tight, filtering her soft moans. Her body tensed in anticipation of each blow. Her buns knotted defensively.

Her father deliberately varied the rhythm of his blows so as to catch her unawares with each ringing smack, and, as a result, she always jumped violently.

She squirmed in his lap, twisted slightly. Something slid up beside her, lifted and tented his robe.

When the next blow struck her upraised ass, her father's robe slid slowly open and revealed the tall, hard column of his cock. The dusky pink knob gleamed. The ivory shaft throbbed and pulsed as it swelled. The slit at the tip winked lasciviously.

The paddle cracked on Ellen's ass, and Eric's cock slid against her bare skin. It was impossible for her to ignore it. Her tits got harder and more erect than ever. Her boobs shivered.

The paddle smashed down on her tail again. Eleven. Twelve. Both cheeks were a brilliant scarlet, flaming and hot. Between her thighs, her cuntlips were swollen and distended. A delicate pink ruffle of inner tissues showed in the heart of her pussy.

Maintaining a slow, totally unpredictable rhythm, Eric applied three more swats to his daughter's already burning butt. His cock throbbed and rubbed against her pale flesh. A gooey, gleaming strand of lubricant smeared her pale skin. A thick glob welled into view at the tip of his prick. He let go of Ellen's neck and dropped the hand with the paddle loosely to his side.

Ellen heaved herself up from her folded-over position. Her face was contorted with pain from the spanking – and something else, too. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Stepping back half a pace, she straddled her father's lap, moved over him. Reaching down, she gripped the pale, erect shaft of his cock and aimed it up into her red snatch. Without opening her eyes, she lowered herself on his towering spear, rammed it up into her oozing hole. She sank down until she had the entire brutal length of her father's prick in her cunt, until her dark-red bush tangled with his light red one. She sat up very straight, as if the full length of his shaft was rammed up through her graceful body like a second spine.