I felt ‘nervous as a cat’ as I traversed the distance between my house and
Peggy’s back door.  I’d deliberately waited to hear Bill leave, not particularly
wishing to see him before I’d had a chance to speak with Peggy about what had
occurred the night before.

The night before.  I felt almost hung over from the intensity of the previous
evening’s activities.  An evening of firsts.  The first time that I’d seen a man
(my neighbor and friend of over twenty years, Bill) whipped to tears by a woman
(his wife, Peggy, my closest friend and confidant for over two decades); the
first time that I’d engaged in sexual activity with anyone other than my husband,
Dave, since our marriage some twenty-odd years ago - with my best friend, Peggy,
no less; the first time that I’d allowed myself to submit to a spanking (and
paddling) from anyone since attaining adulthood - again, with Peggy.

The previous night’s action seemed almost like a dream and could nearly be
dismissed as such if not for the tingle that I still felt in my buttocks from the
spanking and the remaining memories of my mouth serving Peggy - both front and
rear!

I’d lain awake for some time after getting home and showering, finally opting to
masturbate, falling asleep shortly thereafter.  Dave was out of town on business
and would return in the evening - in the meantime, I wanted to talk to Peggy and,
I guess, find out where we would go from here.

The experiences that I’d been introduced to the night before, I knew, had forever
changed me.  I’d reveled in my sexual submission to Peggy, my lips and tongue
paying their respects to her clean-shaven pubes and, later, to her anus.

If someone had told me that I would kneel, nude, behind my best friend and rim
her with my tongue while her husband served her pussy, I’d have thought that they
were crazy.

But, the impossible had occurred.  Not only had I enjoyed it, I’d wallowed in it.
 The opportunity afterwards to whip (cane, actually - with the end-three feet of
a cane fishing pole) her husband, as he stood suspended from their basement
rafters, ankles trussed to retaining rings in the floor, had made me giddy.

The feeling of power that I’d felt, masturbating Bill, looking him in the eyes,
telling him that I was going to have him lick my hands clean and then thrash him,
was one of absolute exultation.

Peggy had suggested that we could train my husband to serve me in the same manner
that Bill had learned to serve her.  Like many married couples, I suppose, Dave
and I were very much in love but, sadly, the ‘honeymoon had been over’ years
before.  Peggy had explained that her sex life had been lackluster and had
transmogrified with the introduction of her ‘new program’ into one of daily
sexual gratification.

Further, she’d indicated that there were many other benefits to such a program
and said that she’d get into those more today when I visited for our morning
coffee klatch.

As I neared the back door of Peggy’s home, I surprised myself when I realized
that I was hoping Peggy would have me again serve her.  I wondered if she’d want
to spank me again today.  And, I wondered at my sudden randyness.  Dave and I had
settled into a routine of sex on weekends, never seeming to have the time nor,
often, the opportunity, during the week when he was working.  His job called for
him to do a great deal of traveling and I’d long since grown accustomed to
sleeping alone during the week.

Peggy and I had been getting together for coffee (or tea) and ‘girl talk’ on a
daily basis each morning for years. This morning ritual at her kitchen table had
seen us through the raising of children, high school graduations, and tearful
departures as our kids, one at a time, departed for college.  Now, both of us
without children at home, we had much more time for chat and much less
distractions - from diapers to school lunches, etc.

We’d pretty much established a routine that called for my arrival at Peggy’s at
7:00 AM each morning.  It occurred to me that, in a manner of speaking, I was
‘late’ for this morning’s visit and I found myself wondering if Peggy would
‘punish’ my tardiness with her paddle.

I would have been hard pressed to explain the excitement that I felt at the
thought of another spanking from Peggy’s hand.  I’d never thought of spanking as
a sexual activity.  Sure, I’d read of people that included it in their sexual
repertoire but had never dreamed that I would ever find any allure in it.

Now, after the previous night’s experience, it was as if someone had lifted a
curtain that had been obscuring my vision.  I’d learned, much to my surprise and
delight, that with my butt on fire from a wooden paddle, I could achieve sexual
pleasure of an intensity that was entirely new to my experience.