It wasn't their first reunion after a long separation. They had been there and done that several times in the first few years of marriage. This reunion was longer than anticipated and another deployment loomed.
It was getting harder to part, harder to leave her at home. Lately, she started showing signs of agitation about their next separation. He recognized those signs... Her eyes would fill unexpectedly; when she didn't know he was watching, she'd close her eyes as if in prayer. She prepared all his favorite meals, wore the clothes he liked to see on her and while he packed his gear, managed to keep her smile in place.
She didn't know it but she was ready to explode.
There had been minor upsets that blew up out of proportion... kicking the clothes dryer when it seemed to take forever to dry the wash, slamming the freezer door when she couldn't find what she was looking for, snarling at the telephone when there was yet another telemarketing call. Sliding down the banister on a whim - she faced forward - and almost broke a bone when she landed on her shoulder. Then... she yelled at her favorite cat - unheard of - and burst into tears.
There were admonitions, lectures, and enough hard spanks to make a reasonable person understand her physical limitations. It wasn't enough; she needed more. On a much too windy day, she put a book in her pocket and climbed a tree - daring the wind to topple her from the branch.
"What the hell are you doing up there?" an irate JC yelled at his wife when he saw her perched on a limb that seemed much too flimsy to hold her weight.
"Reading," she shouted back.
"Get your butt down here now!" he roared.
He made her... he climbed that tree so fast she thought he had sprouted wings.
"It's too windy," he growled. "You'll catch cold."
"Doesn't matter," she replied and turned back to her book, ignoring him and his outstretched arms.
"Gonna blister your behind," he said in that soft firm voice he used when *he* was about to explode.
"You have to catch me first," she sassed, dropped her book and moved away from her branch and up to another one.
"You're not gonna sit for days," he muttered, reaching for her, missing her leg when she moved it out of the way... demanding she stay where she was... ordering her to climb down... cursing... threatening.
And then, he suddenly grabbed her from behind, both hands clutching her bottom cheeks... fists clenching... ripping the seat of her jeans.
Spencer was startled and inhaled sharply when she felt cool air on her bare bottom.
"You!" she screamed and scurried all the way to the ground.
He quickly followed, eyeing that bared bottom and chased her as she ran across the lawn, up onto the porch and into the house.
Once inside the door, Spencer stopped abruptly... pivoted and faced her six-and-a-half foot irate spouse. In uniform, his face and stance... even more commanding... radiating power... the sudden look of hunger in his eyes.
The atmosphere was charged... his mood changed... swung... primal... possessive. Staring at her, his voice was low... hungry... barely recognizable, the full-bodied scent of testosterone... man lust. "I need you... now," he groaned, filled with the knowledge that they would soon part, knowing it would feel like an eternity until he made love to her again.
"Now!" he demanded, nostrils flaring as his arms reached for her.
Her first thought was to leap into his arms. Her next thought was that he would blister her bottom if she did. Her head yelled "RUN!"
She knew he'd give chase and that excited her... and scared her a little because he'd probably burn her butt but she couldn't help herself. She ran. She had wings on her feet... up the stairs... almost to the landing...
He was faster... his stride longer, his feet hitting the stairs harder, louder, closing in on her... reaching for her... grabbing... catching her.
He caught her by the waist, her naked bottom straining against the torn jeans... Pulling her toward him, he felt the roundness of her buttocks against his erection, groaned his need... slid their bodies to the landing. His breath was hot on the back of her neck, his weight holding her down, his heart thudding against her spine.
"Gonna strip you," he rasped. "Gonna take you here... now... make you mine... again... again..."
One hand pushed under her, roughly cupping her mound, the other spreading her thighs and then completely ripping the torn jeans from her body. He lifted up only long enough to unbuckle... unzip... mount her...
His hands pulled her hips closer... raising them just enough until his erection bumped into what he wanted, what was his for the taking. Then he slammed into her... pushing his full length into her core... pumping... satin... pulsating... hard... Half groaning, half sighing at the soft moist heat that squeezed around him, her body heated... dripping... reacting to the roughness of his rhythm. Two hundred thirty-five pounds of dominant male staked claim... renewed it... affirmed it... stretched her... marked her as his.
He peaked, his rush of pleasure filled her... his belly still rubbing against her bottom, heavy breaths heating her neck and back, low unintelligible sounds filling her ears. Then... he was atop her again, riding her again... until he felt her pleasure match his own, her soft sighs echoing his own.
The scent of their mating wafted above them, the air thick with it and just when she thought he'd pull out... pull away, let her up, cuddle... He flipped her onto her back and pushed into her again... He wanted more... needed more. Staring down into her face, rolling beads of sweat on his brow, he rocked into her, wavering between the sensuous lover he had always been and the fierce warrior he had become...
She was his, everything he needed, everything he would ever want. There was a distant roaring... a cliff to topple over... edging closer... tumbling... into the sea... and then there was bliss... utter bliss.
Turning so he was on his back, he pulled Spencer onto his chest and stroked her hair. Whispered love words followed between rasping breaths and as he held her, his heart ached.
Sometimes, life gave you everything and then took you to the other side of the world away from the love that kept you grounded, the love that was the center of your universe.
"Gonna spank you," he said softly as he held her close, one hand cupping her bare bottom, the other still entwined in her hair.
"You're a barbarian," she managed to mutter, pushing her belly deeper into his.
Her bottom wiggled a little when she did this, making him smile, making him cup her bottom cheeks a little harder.
"Let's shower," he told her, swooping her up in his arms as he rose from the floor.
His clothes went flying and the remnants of hers followed. No sooner were they in the shower than she yelped as he landed a hard swat on her bottom. Before she could protest, he covered her mouth with a possessive kiss and an even more possessive hand on her bottom cheeks. "A spanking," he murmured.
"I wasn't a good enough lover?" she mumbled into his chest.
"More than good enough," he smiled, tilting her chin so he could kiss her again. "But that's not getting you out of a spanking."
"Spencer, you were up a tree, for Christ's sake! I know," he paused when she gave him a funny look. "But it was too windy. You could have lost your balance, caught a chill, maybe even..."
"You are such a wuss!"
"Yeah, when it comes to you," the Navy SEAL he was, snorted. "I'm a first class wuss and this wuss is gonna spank you... hard."
"I'll never forgive you."
"I can live with that."
"I'll tell the world you're a wife beater!"
"I'll tell them myself. Maybe it will keep you safe while I'm at sea."
"Listen! I don't think..." Spencer began.
"Don't think, sweetheart. Feel."
Upending her in the shower, his hand descended, swatting one cheek, then the other. Hard as she tried, she couldn't find purchase anywhere - she was upside down and his hips and thighs were soapy slick. Her hands had nothing to hold on to. She screamed her outrage.
The water muted her protests but even so, JC seemed to go deaf at the most inopportune times. With one leg perched on the built-in shower seat and Spencer dangling over his thigh, his hand continued the dialogue - a swat and a yelp, a swat and an angry response, a swat and a threat, and more swats until her bottom approached an interesting shade of vermilion.
"You're a barbarian!" Spencer complained when she could speak again.
"I know," her husband murmured, holding her tight against him, kissing the tears from her face, his hands stroking the heat he had caused. "I'm going to be alright, sweetheart and I'll be home again before you know it."
"How did you know?" she asked, the pain in her bottom momentarily ignored as the pain in her heart swelled to greater proportions. There were no guarantees when your spouse was sailing into a war zone.
"I'm aching, too," was all he said.
"Your word that you'll take care while I'm away," he said later when they had toweled each other dry. His hand lingered on her bottom, soft strokes of his palm easing the fiery heat.
"My word," she promised.
He nodded; she had always kept her word. Watching her now as she walked naked out of the bathroom to their bed... he noted the shape of her bottom, the fiery color that would soon fade. Eyes roaming, he inventoried the curve of her back, the fragile geometry of her neck, the indentation at her waist, and back down again to the swell of her hips.
Much gentler loving came next. Both bodies craving the other, more whispered words, more demands, more promises. Time flew like lightning as they made memories, memories that would have to sustain them, memories that might have to last forever... until he was home again.
"You're my everything," he told her when he boarded his ship.
"You're my everything," he reminded her when he returned.
~ End ~ ~ Buon compleanno! Happy Birthday Squidlet! ~ Return to Spanking Erotica Or, back to Spanking Erotica - Main Menu.