(Mods, I hope this story is okay for here but if there's any problem please accept my apologies and feel free to delete it.)
Anne closed the hall door behind her. She was feeling a little light headed, giddy even, having just got home from a lengthy (and rather alcoholic) Sunday lunch at Wendy's. They'd been best friends since university, having shared a flat in Cambridge over 20 years earlier. In fact if the full truth were known they were a little more than just good friends, a fact of which Anne's husband, Brian, was blissfully unaware. However 'that's for another day' as they say!
Slightly drunk, Anne tried to regain her composure, glancing at the hall clock as she did so. It was just after three thirty and she'd not peed since breakfast time, nearly seven hours earlier. She was one of those rare women who enjoyed holding her pee until really desperate and, more often than not, wetting herself. If she could be slightly naughty about it into the bargain so much the better - it heightened her excitement. To be truthful she'd needed to pee whilst at Wendy's, squirming a bit but resisting the urge to hold herself. All the white wine they'd consumed, topped up with soda water, had only served to increase her desperation. Oh and coffee! No meal at Wendy's was ever complete unless rounded off by the delicious (but rather expensive) filter coffee she insisted on serving. Grabbing her crotch, Anne realised that she wouldn't be able to hold on for much longer and the exquisite, tantalising sensation of a full bladder which yearned to be emptied, would soon give way to the delicious feeling of warm wetness.
Brian was away at a weekend conference – 'Management Training' - or was it something else connected with his work? She wasn't quite sure. However he'd been quite adamant that it was an event to which spouses weren't invited and he'd assured her that he wouldn't be back much before five thirty or six. Right now that knowledge suited Anne rather well. Brian had never understood her love of holding, desperation or wetting and, she thought, he rather resented the pleasure she gained from it.
In recent months Brian had begun to act rather strangely on his own account though. He'd gone from being the timid easy-going, amiable husband she'd married all those years ago, to being someone altogether stricter. Once, after committing she'd some minor misdemeanour, he'd told her that a smacked bottom would do her a lot of good. Typically for Anne she'd ignored it, dismissing it as no more than male chauvinism, something of which Brian was, from time to time, assuredly guilty. One day, however, they were settling down to one of those rare intimate evenings destined to culminate in sex when Brian had asked if he could spank her bottom. Unsure of the direction in which things were going but eager to oblige if it met some deep seated need of his, she'd agreed. He'd given her six of the best and it had been an experience she wouldn't forget easily. He'd firmly but gently pulled down her panties, raised her skirt and administered six steady slaps to her exposed buttocks. They'd not been hard or unduly painful but firm and purposeful. After he'd finished Brian had gently rubbed some cream on to her smarting buttocks, told her she'd been really good and kissed her tenderly. They'd gone on to enjoy some of the best sex Anne could remember - Brian had got harder and lasted longer than he'd done for years. Another night a couple of weeks later a similar sequence of events had taken place with equally pleasing results. Although she didn't understand his need to smack her, Anne decided that it was worth going along with if only for the excellent sex which seemed to follow. One day though, Anne had borrowed Brian's laptop to check her webmail when curiosity got the better of her and she looked in his favourites and her eyes were drawn to a link which just said said 'Spanking.' Clicking the link Anne, saw a page open which contained the bulletin board belonging to an online community of like minded adults who enjoyed spanking. As she read through it a realisation dawned on Anne that this was what turned her husband on. His 'secret' was out!
Armed with the knowledge of what really turned him on, Anne hadn't judged or condemned her husband, as a woman of slighter cunning might have done. Instead she'd decided to exploit the situation and milk it for all it was worth. After all, if smacking her bottom got him hard enough for the sort of sex she craved, there was every reason for giving him just cause to do it. Right now she had the perfect opportunity to do something which she knew would provoke and displease him enough to earn a thorough spanking followed, hopefully, by a taste of his hardened cock.
Increasingly desperate to pee, Anne grabbed her crotch but she had absolutely no intention of going to the toilet. No way. This was too good an opportunity to pass up on. Doing her best to hold until she could get there, she went through into the living room and sat in Brian's favourite, rather expensive, leather chair. Having made herself comfortable, Anne relaxed the control she'd fought to exercise over her distended bladder and began to pee hard. A delicious feeling of warm wetness came over her as she peed her white maxi panties and stonewashed blue jeans. She felt herself experiencing that delightful combination of relief and the sheer naughtiness of deliberately wetting herself with which she'd indulged herself many times before, but not in quite the same way. She'd peed herself on Brian's chair once before in his absence but on that occasion she'd been careful to protect it with several large bath towels. This time it was completely unprotected and she was sitting wet through in a large pool of pee directly on the chair leather. There was even pee on the carpet. As Anne stopped peeing, she undid her jeans, pulling both them and her sodden panties down. Then she began to masturbate, fingering herself for all it was worth.
Continuing her masturbation session, slowly but assuredly bringing herself to climax, Anne didn't hear Brian's car in the drive, his key in the lock or his footsteps as he entered the room. Absorbed in an orgy of self pleasure, surrounded by a pool of cooling wetness, only when she became conscious that someone was actually watching her, did she look up. Good, this was just what she'd wanted – to be caught! Now it was time for a little acting. Pretending to be ashamed, she looked up at Brian, trying to blush and doing her best to at least look a little frightened.
“I'm sorry,” she blurted out. “I wasn't expecting you back just yet and I'm afraid I've had a bit of an accident. It wasn't deliberate – I just needed to pee one minute and before I could do anything about I'd had an accident. Then I just got turned on and one thing led to another.”
Brian looked solemn. He knew the game and was determined to play his part.
“Anne, I think it's fairly obvious you weren't expecting me back yet. As for this being some sort of accident we both know that it was nothing of the kind. This was a planned, deliberate act, and you're not in the least bit sorry – certainly not as sorry as I'm going to make you.”
Anne looked defiantly at her husband.
“I suppose you're going to punish me for this then, just to prove what a man you are. After all, we all know it's the only way to get that tiddler of yours up in bed, don't we?”
Brian still looked solemn but now he was turning white with anger. After twenty years of marriage, Anne knew that taunting him about his sexual prowess and the size of his cock, would be bound to produce the desired effect. Brian closed the curtains before seating himself on the adjacent sofa.
“There's no suppose about it, Anne. You've left me with no choice but to punish you. Come here and get over my knee right now.”
“But...”
“But nothing. Come here and do as you're told.”
Realising that she wouldn't be given a choice, Anne reluctantly but obediently bent over her husband's knee, exposing her pink and rather damp bottom. Brian steadily and methodically administered his wife's punishment which consisted of eight firm, measured smacks. They were hard enough to hurt but no so hard as to leave any permanent marks. She needed to be taught a lesson and he was determined to do just that. Offering little resistance, Anne winced but didn't shout or scream. She was taking her punishment well.
As he administered it, Brian felt his cock, already sore from an earlier masturbation session, stiffen. The conference he'd attended had nothing to with 'Management Training' or anything else work related, despite what he'd told Anne. No, it had been a weekend conference at a slightly unorthodox health farm for spankers and spankees. During the weekend he'd switched between the two roles and this morning he'd experienced for himself the delights of being spanked. Like all the conference delegates he'd had to stand by his bed that morning as the conference 'nurse' checked the bedding for evidence of either bed wetting or masturbatory activity. Fifteen of the twenty delegates, a mixture of both men and women, had deliberately misbehaved themselves overnight in the hope of being punished next morning by nurse. He'd been one of the fifteen and had positively relished the spanking he'd been given in the dining room at breakfast time. Now, however, it was his turn to do some punishing and he was feeling incredibly aroused. As he administered Anne's eighth and final smack, he found ejaculating into his boxer shorts. Gently releasing Anne from his lap, he patted her tenderly on the back.
“You've been very good and taken your punishment well. I think we could both use an early night, don't you.”
Noticing the stiffy in her husband's pants, Anne smiled broadly.
“Yes. I think an early night would be a very good idea indeed.”
THE END