Both of my parents were killed in a light plane crash when I was very young. Too young to for me to even remember them. Somewhat reluctantly, my sole remaining grandparent took custody of me. I had a pretty normal upbringing under the circumstances. Money was a short at times because Gramps could only get work as a local handyman/gardener but we got by. When I got old enough, I started helping him out and by the time I was 18, I was fitting in most of his lawn mowing jobs around my studies at college.
Mr and Mrs Suitor were one of my Gramps regular customers. He was a banker of some sort and she was a homemaker, for want of a better term. I was tasked with mowing their lawns which was a weekly duty during the summer.
A note here about Mrs Suitor. She was a very handsome woman of about 5 foot 7 with short, silver blonde hair. She was slim but definitely curved in the right places. I guess she was a few years shy of fifty years. She was widely liked but viewed as a little odd. I think this perception of eccentricity was largely due to her rather peculiar turn of phrase. She was quite religious so her conversation was peppered with biblical references. The other verbal quirk about her comes from, I think, the fact that her father was a naval Captain. He had commanded a destroyer on Atlantic convoy duty during the Second World War. From him she had inherited a colorful maritime idiom.
In reflection I think Gramps had a bit of a crush on Mrs Suitor. In his mind she was so very refined and classy. He was always so deferential to her and almost embarrassingly eager to please. So he was not best pleased when he discovered that I had let Mrs Suitor down by not mowing her lawn on Friday as she expected. I had helped a friend whose car had broken down and couldn’t make it back in time. I suppose I should have rung Mrs Suitor but I just thought I would turn up early on Saturday and all would be well.
Unfortunately, the Suitors were hosting an important event on the Sunday so Mrs Suitor rang Gramps to check that I would be able to complete the lawns before their function. Gramps flipped.
My grandfather was very old school. Unfortunately for me that school included the tenet; “spare the rod and spoil the child.” In practice this meant that he would occasionally use corporal punishment when he wished to make a salient point about my behavior. He did love me, of that I am sure. It was just that what he thought was good and appropriate parenting involved violence.
The upshot in this particular situation was that I got a good old fashioned whipping. Half a dozen good solids strokes on my rump and the backs of my thighs with a switch he kept specifically for this purpose.
I was sent to attend to my lawn mowing duties immediately after my punishment had been administered. Just as I was walking up the path to the Suitors front door, Mrs Suitor drove into the drive way. “Ah Jimmy, you are here to do the lawns. Splendid. I have a garden party tomorrow so it is important for the lawns to be at their best.” I helped her into the house with some parcels and other items. She was carrying a dress or frock or something in a plastic sleeve. She informed me that it was her new dress for Sundays function.
We entered the house. I thought an apology was in order so I offered her my regrets about not being able to do the job yesterday. “Think nothing of it Jimmy.” She replied. “As I said to your grandfather, as long as the job is done before Sunday, all will be ship shape.” I managed a smile and started making my way to the back door. An exclamation behind me drew me up and I turned to see Mrs Suitor with a horrified look on her face.
“Jimmy, how on earth did you get those injuries to your legs?” I was nonplussed at first but then realized that she had seen some of the ugly welts on the back of my thighs that Gramp’s whipping had left me with. I mumbled something about Gramps being a little old fashioned. It was her turn to be confused but she eventually pieced together the cause of my injuries.
“Good Lord! Am I to understand that the man thrashed you for not coming yesterday? I don’t believe it!” She hesitated a moment and then blurted, “Show me more evidence of this injustice.” I was confused. More evidence? After a few moments she took me by the shoulders and turned me forcefully around. She then took the waist band of my shorts and pulled them down. She did the same with my underwear, and almost before I realized it, I was bare butt naked in front Mrs Suitor.
“Dear Lord, there they are for all the world to see.” The characteristic striping on my legs was accentuated on the more tender skin of my bottom. “Loose lips do indeed sink ships.” she whispered as she closely examined the welts.
“I feel so guilty; a couple of thoughtless words from me and you are made to suffer the pain and indignity of the lash.” Not exactly the lash I thought but the idea was near enough. I jumped as I felt her fingers gently caress my bottom as she inspected my wounds. “Sacrilege! Your body has been desecrated in an inhumane way for an absurd reason. I must attend to your injury. Lean over that chair and I will return with medication.” She gently pushed me into position. I was really confused and embarrassed. I had my shorts and underwear around my ankles, leaning over the arm rest of a big leather arm chair.
Mrs Suitor soon returned with a tube of something. She kneeled behind me and started applying the ointment to my bare and exposed bottom. My mind was reeling. It was like I was in the twilight zone. Could this really be happening?
She was making soothing sounds, “There, there. This will help with your suffering.”
In this position my balls were hanging out and she repeated grazed them with her fingers. She was now using both hands to knead and massage my bottom, and I had to admit the stinging sensation was going away. I could occasionally even feel her breath on my bum. This was a world of sensation completely beyond my experience thus far. I had not even kissed a girl yet and here was an attractive, mature, married woman fondling my arse! My cock was rigid and pressed hard against the overstuffed leather of the hand rest of the arm chair.
All the while she was apologizing and chastising herself for her selfish and irresponsible behavior. Her fingers slowed and then stopped. She suddenly she gripped my bottom hard; her finger nails digging into my flesh and cried out. “Penitence!” She gripped even harder and cried “Atonement!”
She ran from the room leaving me prostrate over the chair arm, wondering where the crazy old girl had disappeared to this time. A few moments later she returned brandishing a thin cane above her head. At first I thought she was going to strike me with it! She bade me stand up and then promptly removed her skirt and a frilly pair of brief, black knickers. I was agog and part of me very erect. The sight of her firm thighs and the nest of brown hair at the juncture of her legs was enough to slacken my jaw. She handed me the cane and assumed the position that I had occupied leaning over the arm of the chair. I was grateful that she had ignored my rather engorged state.
“You must administer the retribution young man.” Sheeit! She wanted me to wallop her. To whip her like I had been whipped. I hesitated and she turned towards me. “You are doing God’s work Jimmy. A tooth for a tooth!” She leaned back over the arm of the chair and looked back at. I again hesitated. “Proceed!’ she said firmly.
I gave her a gentle swipe with the cane and paused. “Oh no, that won’t do at all” she muttered impatiently. “Put your back into it young man”. I gave her a stronger stroke; enough to raise a little redness on that gorgeous bum. She stood abruptly and faced me with her hands on hips. “You are not taking this seriously Jimmy. I will have my just deserts. I insist that you make a more sincere effort.” She reassumed the position and wriggled her bottom at me. ‘Commence!”
I couldn’t see what else I could do but give her a good, strong belt.
Swish smack. “Oooowwww oooo. Yes, that’s more like it. Another!”
Swish smack. “Oooowwww oooo. Ahhh. Yes. Yes. Again.”
Swish smack. “Oofffaaahhhh Yes. Again!” Her words were coming in pants now.
Swish smack. “Ahhh ooooo. Ah. Ah. Ah.”
I stopped after four strokes assuming that that would suffice. I stepped back. She looked back at me with a dazed look and queried me, “Why have you stopped?” I couldn’t help but notice the perspiration on her upper lip and the way she kept licking her lips.
“I just thought that…”
“Carry on young man” she impatiently demanded.
I looked down at was a few seconds before, a pristine expanse of delicate white skin. It now had 4 angry welts across it. Ok, I thought, if that’s the way you want it, let’s see how you respond to a little more vigor. I was playing quite a lot of squash and tennis so my fore hand was quite solid. I decided to try and serve a few aces. The increased effort I put into the strokes changed the sound they made to more of a ripping sound.
Viiipp, splat. “Aaarrghh!” she gurgled.
Viiipp, splat. “Ohhhhh! Arrrck!”
Viiipp, splat. “Aaeee owww!”
Viiipp, splat. “Desist, desist, desist.” she pleaded.
Her hand came round behind her and thrust the tube of cream we had used before into my hand. Where had she got that from? I got the message and squatted down on my heels behind her so that my face was level with her bottom. I squirted a liberal amount of the cream onto my hands and started to delicately rub it onto the eight track marks she bore.
But what’s this? Between her legs there was a shiny patch on the dark leather of the arm of the chair. Had she wet herself from the pain? Or was it another sort of secretion? Was the horny old dear actually getting aroused by this? With my face a bare six inches from her bottom I could smell an aroma that was entirely novel to me but I instantly knew it was the smell of a sexually aroused woman. It must be something primeval that is hard wired into us but, even being a total neophyte sexually, I recognized the smell as that of a woman in heat, so to speak.
She was making low moaning sounds now and seemed to be grinding her pelvis against the chair arm. I kept kneading her buttocks, almost delirious with the sensations I was experiencing; the earthy, almost spicy, aroma, The groans of what I assumed were pleasure. The sight of a very moist vulva and a little arsehole that seemed to wink at me as I manipulated her bum, not to mention the very feel of two very well formed buttocks. I was as hard as the cane I had just wielded.
After a few minutes she seemed to shudder and collapse. She remained motionless for a dozen breathes and then abruptly she stood. In the process she bumped her bottom into my face and I was knocked onto my back. She turned and looked down at me. I was sprawled out with my erection doing a good job of imitating a flagpole.
“My goodness. Look at your tallywhacker. He is in rude good health isn’t he,” she commented in a very matter of fact fashion. “It is not healthy for a young man to walk around with his tackle in such a state. Maybe you had better go and mow the lawn. That should settle him back down.”
I was in a high state of arousal but had no recourse but to follow her instructions. I moved out the back door to the shed where the garden equipment was stored with a strong feeling of disappointment. I didn’t know what I thought was going to happen next but it was not pushing a lawnmower. I hauled out the mower and fired her up. Their lawn was not large, just a simple rectangle about the size of a tennis court.
As I made the first pass up the block of turf I saw that the venetian blinds into what I knew was the master bed room were open. I glimpsed movement inside. On the next pass with the mower I could clearly see Mrs Suitor standing in front of the full length mirror that also served as a wardrobe door. She had her hands on her hips and appeared to be contemplating her reflection. My next pass saw her in a similar pose but this time she had removed her blouse. On the next pass she was cupping her naked breasts with both hands.
This pattern continued for the 20 or so passes I had to make to complete the mowing. For the last 8 or so passes she was buck naked, still admiring herself in the mirror in an assortment of poses. It was almost like a still life portrait. She was frozen as I passed, but moved while I was out of line of sight.
Later I realized that she must have used the sound of the mower to judge her movements or she could have been keeping an eye on me in the reflection in the mirror. My mowing technique had become a little erratic. I slowed to a crawl as I passed the window and then accelerated when I lost my view.
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