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The place next door had been sold and the new owners moved in while I was away. Being nosy I kept an eye on the place, trying to spot them. One of these days I suppose I’d nip in and introduce myself.

They were a family of four I determined pretty quickly. Twin children in their early teens, a boy and a girl, both brunettes and looking very much like their mother. The father, when I eventually saw him, turned out to be a big blonde hunk. Man, a girl could get hot just looking at him.

What with one thing and another I didn’t get a chance to wander over and say hullo. It’s not as though there was any hurry. After all, they’d only just moved in and would probably be there for years. I decided that I’d go over on the weekend.

So the weekend rolled around and I finally decided to go and introduce myself. I’d just stepped out of my front door and I saw them backing out of their drive. He was driving, with his wife next to him, and the twins in the back. They were all sporting football colours so it was easy to guess where they were going. They wouldn’t be back for hours. I turned and stepped back inside, deciding I’d try again the next day.

Now the reason for what happened subsequently was quite simple. I was bored. I was lounging around in my bedroom, keeping out of the parent’s way in case they found chores for me to do. Looking across at the neighbour’s house it occurred to me that we still had the key to it. Old Mrs Smithers asked us to keep a copy in case she got locked out. It was in the junk drawer in the kitchen. Not only did I have a key but the family was away and wouldn’t be back for ages. I could easily go over and have a quick snoop around.

Totally the wrong thing to do but I was going to do it anyway. I grabbed the key, told my mother I was going out for a while, and departed on my snoopy way. I could pretend I was a detective checking out a suspect’s house.

I breezed into the house. No worries. They really should have changed the locks. Still, not my problem. I started snooping around, looking over their stuff. They had some quite nice furniture and a few good ornaments, including a very fine Dresden china lady. I fell in love with that lovely lady as soon as I saw her. I picked her up and looked her over, then very carefully put her back where she belonged. God forbid that I drop and break her.

“What? She’s not good enough for you to pinch?” came a deep voice from behind me. “Genuine Dresden china, limited edition. You’d get a pretty penny for that, you know.”

I didn’t hesitate. I bolted for the front door.

All I can say is damn all highly polished floors and damn all throw rugs that are thrown on them. My foot landed on the rug at just the wrong angle and it shot out from under me, landing me flat on my back and gasping for air.

The big blonde hunk of a father strolled over, picked me up, and put me on the couch.

“Nasty jolt there,” he said affably. “Take a few big breaths and you’ll be right.”

I managed to catch my breath and glared up at him.

“Who puts slippery rugs on the floor?” I protested. “They’re a health hazard. A person could get killed by those things.”

“Not if they’re walking sensibly and not bolting around like a startled rabbit,” came the equable reply.

“What are you doing here anyway?” I demanded. “You’re at the football.”

The great oaf looked down at himself, patted his chest and shook his head.

“Ah, no, I don’t think I am,” he said. “I appear to be standing right here.”

“But I saw you drive off,” I told him.

“No. You saw my brother and his family drive off. Did you notice the twins? Yes? Twins run in the family. My brother and I are also twins. Very hard to tell us apart, especially for the casual burglar. I’ve just been visiting for a few days, helping my brother do some repairs.”

“Oh. And I’m not a burglar. I’m a neighbour. I’m Janet from next door.”

“Uh-huh. Well, we’ll let the police decide if Janet from next door is a burglar. After all, you do appear to have known that my brother and his family were out when you came snooping in.”

I was horrified. The police? That was definitely a no-no.

“You can’t call the police,” I protested frantically. “They’ll tell my parents. My dad will kill me. My mother will ground me until I’m fifty. I told you who I am. There’s no need for the police. I’m sorry for snooping around.”

“No. You’re sorry that you got caught. Underage, I take it, if the police have to notify your parents. Better to get caught now than when you’re older.”

“I am not underage,” I said indignantly. “I’m eighteen, nearly nineteen. The police will tell my dad because he is a policeman. They’ll think it hilarious.”

“And your dad won’t be quite so amused I take it. Could be interesting. How likely is it that he’ll be the one to answer the call?”

Oh ye gods and little fishes. What if he did? I’d be dead. Oh, god! When they hear the address they might just ring him and ask him to come over and save them a call-out.

“You can’t call the police,” I told him. “Dad almanbahis adresi would never live it down. I’d be in so much trouble. Dad will lock me in my bedroom for months and only feed me what could be slipped under the door. Come on. Be reasonable.”

“I see. I suppose I could just take you over to see your parents and listen to you explain to them why you got caught in someone else’s house when you thought they were away.”

I stared at him in shock. Sadistic swine. That would be just as bad as calling the police, with me finishing up grounded until I was eighty.

“You can’t do that,” I said in a whisper. “I mean, you just can’t.”

“I think you’ll find I could,” he said with this little smile on his face. How the hell could he find this situation amusing?

“Can’t we resolve this some other way?” I pleaded.

“Well, I don’t know,” he said, and I’ll swear he was laughing at me. “How do you normally resolve it when you get caught burglarizing a place?”

I must have spluttered for nearly a minute trying to tell him that I’d never done anything like this before and that I didn’t appreciate his sense of humour, all without offending him.

“So in essence what you’re saying is that I shouldn’t call the police, I shouldn’t tell your parents, and I should let you go scot free after pulling a stupid, illegal, and potentially dangerous stunt, because you don’t want to get into any trouble? Is that right?”

Put that way I have to admit it didn’t really seem reasonable.

“Well, can’t you come up with some sort of penalty?” I asked. “Give me chores to do or something? What would you do if it was your child in this situation?”

“My child wouldn’t be in this sort of situation,” the swine said, sanctimony oozing out of him. “Still, I get your point. How would I handle the twins if they were caught in mischief? Probably tell my brother and let him sort it out.”

“And if he wasn’t there? Then what would you do? Give them chores or what?”

“Depends on what they did, I suppose. Obviously grounding you is out as I have no way of enforcing it and your parents would want to know why. Same with chores. Your parents would want to know why you’re doing them and as I’ll be going home shortly my brother would also want to know why you’re doing them and I suspect you don’t want him told either.”

He gave me a questioning look and I nodded agreement.

“About the only thing left is a spanking and you’re a little old to have your bottom paddled, especially by a man you don’t know. I think I’ll go with my first choice for dealing with the twins.”

I looked inquisitively and he smirked.

“Dump the problem on the father and wipe my hands of it.”

“No, no, no. That is not a valid option,” I said quickly. “Why can’t I just get a spanking? Over and done with and we can forget the whole thing. No police, no parents, just between us.”

“I just told you why not. You’re a little old for that and you don’t know me. You don’t even know my name.”

“Um, what is your name?”

“Peter, and you’re avoiding the issue.”

“No, I’m not. That is the issue. You’re Peter and I’m Janet, so we do know each other. And if I don’t object to getting a spanking I don’t see why you should object to giving me one. After all, I’m the one who’ll wind up with a smarting bottom, not you.”

“How long is it since you’ve been spanked? Too long, I suspect. You have no idea what you’re inviting.”

“Yes, I do. A chance to take my lumps without my parents being disappointed in me and grounding me, like, forever. I’ll take the spanking over that any day.”

He was looking at me, considering.

“Eighteen, nearly nineteen, you say?”

I nodded.

“Old enough to know your own mind, I guess. I feel I should tell you you’ll probably regret this and the consequences are on your own head.”

“I do know my own mind and what I’d regret is you telling my parents about how stupid I’ve been. So is it a deal?”

“It’s a deal. Stand up so I can sit on the couch.”

I stood up and he sat down where I’d been sitting. I was suddenly a little nervous. What was I supposed to do now? Just bend over his knee. He showed me what was going to happen.

It was a nice day. A fine spring day with a warmth that had been missing during the winter. I’d dressed for a fine spring day which might turn chilly. I had on a smock type dress that came down to about mid-thigh and I was wearing tights, so if the temperature did drop all I’d have to do would be to slip on a jacket.

The reason I mention this is because of what happened next. He reached over and drew me a little closer to him, facing him. The next thing I know he’d reached up my dress, latched onto my tights, and pulled them well down, my panties going with them. I gave a squeal of protest and found myself flying through the air to land across his lap, whereupon he pushed my dress up to my waist, leaving me effectively naked from the waist down.

“What are you doing?” I wailed.

“Getting ready to spank you,” he said. almanbahis adresi “Why do you ask? It’s what you agreed to. Or should I say demanded?”

“But my tights!” I didn’t mention the panties as well, too embarrassed to do so. He knew what I meant.

“Well surely you expected that,” he observed, sounding surprised. “A proper spanking should be on a bare bottom, shouldn’t it?”

What could I say to that? I’d agreed to the spanking and he had mentioned consequences. It was my own fault if I hadn’t bothered to think it through. Then the second of those consequences hit me. He’d not only bared my bottom but, with me bent over his knee like this, he could see everything else that was now bare. I could feel myself blushing like crazy. I wasn’t exactly a virgin, but being exposed quite so blatantly was a bit much.

Then another thought struck me. Was he likely to try to take advantage of me?

“Um, I have only agreed to a spanking you know,” I quickly pointed out.

“I know,” he said. “Ah, I get what you mean. You’re afraid I might take unfair advantage of you by fondling you here.”

When he said the word here he demonstrated exactly where he meant by cupping his hand over me. It seemed my pudenda fitted very nicely in the cup of his hand. I could feel his hand touching every bit of me.

“You’re worrying needlessly,” he said. “I wouldn’t dream of molesting you while I’m spanking you. This is the area you need to worry about.”

With that his hand moved from my mound to my bottom, rubbing lazy circles on it. I’d got a jolt of shock when he’d cupped me but his hand had moved away again. What was there for me to complain about? He’d said he wouldn’t touch me there so it was kind of hard to argue, even though he already had.

“Alright,” I said through gritted teeth. “Will you get on with it?”

“No need to rush,” he said. “I’m still working up the lecture I’ll be giving while I spank you. Don’t be in such a hurry or are you just eager for the sex after the spanking?”

“You can take the lecture as read,” I said quickly. “I know how I screwed up and I don’t really need a lecture to confirm it. Say, what?”

What had he said at the end? Sex? What sex?

“What sex?” I demanded. “What are you talking about? I never agreed to sex and you know it.”

“A young lady asking to be spanked by a handsome young lad such as myself. Of course she’s asking to be screwed afterwards. I wouldn’t want to disappoint you by failing to live up to your expectations.”

“You’re not a handsome young lad. You’re an old man. Why would I want to have sex with you? I never agreed to sex. I won’t agree to sex. I’m not having sex with you. Not before, during, or after the spanking.”

“Go easy on the old. You’ll hurt my feelings. We’ll discuss the sex after the spanking. You can spend the time being spanked thinking up reasons why you shouldn’t have it. I’ll spend the time thinking up reasons why you should. What could be fairer than that? Actually, you should agree now, and then you can spend the spanking anticipating the forthcoming treat.”

Forthcoming treat? The man had tickets on himself. No! Way! Known!

I lay across his lap, fuming and embarrassed, wishing he’d just get on with it. Unfortunately, he did.

His hand came down hard on my poor backside. He wasn’t kidding about spanking me. I was trying not to squeal but it hurt and I wasn’t succeeding all that well. And he was lecturing me, damn it. I wasn’t exactly listening to it, paying far more attention to that hand bouncing off my bottom. Who’d have thought that a hand could be that hard? Snippets of the lecture did get through. I kept hearing words like young idiot, stupidity, carelessness, learn through your mistakes, etc. etc.

I was so busy paying attention to what his hand was doing to my bottom, and trying to ignore his silly lecture, that I didn’t even notice the first time his hand slapped against my mound. Well, I did notice, but only in a relieved sort of way, as it didn’t sting the way it did when it landed on my bottom.

I was still feeling a little relieved when a few more stray spanks went astray, stirring up my pussy a little, but it didn’t occur to me that it was deliberate until a few slaps against my pussy came in quick succession.

I was squirming about quite freely at this stage, quite sure that my bottom had caught fire, and I was starting to wonder about my pussy. Even though he hadn’t slapped it hard it was starting to feel warm. Hot, even. And the moisture I could sense there was not having a cooling affect, I assure you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I managed to gasp out when a couple of more slaps landed on what was becoming a very sensitive spot.

“Spanking you,” came the reply. “Why? Have you had enough?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed quickly, followed by an even quicker, “No.”

It had suddenly occurred to me that if he stopped spanking he might start doing something else that I might not want him to do. A silent voice then suggested maybe I should let him and see what happens.

“Yes, almanbahis adresi no,” he said. “You don’t seem to be very sure.”

He’d stopped spanking me while talking and his hand was resting on my bottom, his fingers lightly drumming against me. Well, OK, maybe his hand wasn’t quite resting on my bottom, but his fingers were certainly drumming against me. I could feel them sending little ripples through me.

“Look, just stop everything,” I said. “I’m sure.”

“Hmm,” he said, his hand starting to lightly rub me.

“Um, what are you doing?”

“If the spanking is over it’s only polite to rub the battered area to alleviate the pain a little,” he said. “I do pride myself on being polite and doing the right thing.”

“That, that’s not my bottom you’re rubbing,” I muttered.

“True, true, but you must admit it does distract you from the pain.”

“Stop, please,” I managed to say, writhing slightly under his touch.

He promptly swung me to my feet and stood up. I just stood in front of him, my hands hovering over my burning bottom, breathing hard and feeling confused.

There was no confusion about Peter’s actions. He was calmly undoing his belt and, while I watched he calmly dropped his trousers and his undies and stepped out of them. It was blindingly obvious what his intentions were. I was just staring at him, not quite believing this was happening.

He reached over and took the hem of my dress and lifted it straight up.

“Arms up,” he said and I proved my idiocy by doing as instructed, with him lifting my dress up and over my head.

“Turn around,” was the next command and I did so, which was a bit of a relief as I was no longer looking at his erection and a bit of intelligence started to seep back into me. Too bad that intelligence didn’t come fast enough to stop my bra from being undone. He turned me back to face him, pulling the straps off my shoulders and down my arms, the bra dropping away and leaving me fully naked. Fully naked except for the tights and panties tangled around my ankles, that is.

They didn’t stay on for long. He crouched down and took them off, my shoes going with them, leaving me starkers, shocked, horrified, and aroused.

“I said I wasn’t going to have sex with you,” I told him, a touch desperately.

“I know. I heard you,” he said, turning me around and backing me up against the arm of the couch.

Looking down at myself from where I was leaning I could see my whole body, laid out in invitation to him, and he was moving closer, quite happy to accept that unspoken invitation.

I think I may have insinuated that I wasn’t exactly a virgin, but a few grappling encounters in the dark with most of our clothes on did not prepare me for this. I was naked, in broad daylight, and a man, a lot older and more experienced than I was, was about to have sex with me. There was mothing fumbling or tentative about the way he moved. He knew what to do and was going to do it.

His hand was on me, parting my lips, and his cock moved between them. I could feel it pressing against me. Feel it? I could see it, for crying out loud. I could actually see his cock starting to push into me. I’ll admit to having seen a cock before, but not one coming at me like this, its intentions plain.

His hands settled on my hips, holding me firmly in place, and then he started pushing home properly, while I held my breath and watched. The odd notion occurred to me that I should be protesting and saying no, but the sight of his cock taking me (and the feel of it) just left me mute, left me standing there (alright, leaning) while he took me.

He took his time, moving into me in one long slow thrust, and I felt him coming every inch of the way. My passage yielded, my softness giving way to his hard rigidity, stretching to take him and happy to do so. And just like that he was fully inside me and I took a long shuddering breath, waiting for what was to follow.

His hands slid up my sides, closing around my breasts, teasing them. Without moving his cock at all he leaned forward, kissing each breast lightly, tasting my nipples. Then he leaned back a little.

“Slowly now,” he murmured, and started rocking in me.

He wasn’t pulling back and coming thrusting back in. He was more rocking in place, with little actual movement of his cock. That little movement was enough. I found myself rocking with him, staring into his eyes as he took me, gently smiling.

It was dreamy, just rocking with him, nothing frantic, no desperate groping, just a gentle swaying and excitement building up in me like you wouldn’t believe.

It didn’t stay like that. Slowly it changed, and I could feel his cock dragging its way out of me only to pause and firmly return, full of heat and seeking my own heat.

I was breathing harder, panting even, little sounds of appreciation and wanting escaping my lips. My hands were clutching his shoulders, holding onto him, while his hands were on my breasts, pleasing them, and all the time his cock was coming into me, again and again.

Oh god, I hadn’t known I could get so aroused and excited. He was in full control and there was nothing I could do but go along with his desires and, in truth, I hadn’t the faintest urge to do anything but move with him. Whatever he wanted was fine by me as long as he didn’t stop.

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