Spanked over panties and a garter belt
Sylvie shouts as the slaps start to sting
She won't forget to buy the flowers again
Some of that crimson colour Alan spoke of.
My beautiful, but insolent wife Sylvie and I were married in June 1981. A few months later, we were witnesses to the marriage of our two best friends Christine and Martin. I had to travel all week for my job ,and Sylvie had promised to buy flowers for the ceremony. When I arrived on Saturday morning, Sylvie was waiting for me, already ready, dressed in an elegant gray suit, her legs sheathed in nylon and heels in the same colour. While I was preparing myself, knowing that we had plenty of time to go to the town hall, Sylvie was nervous. Her face nervous, she finally confessed that she did not buy the flowers and she was angry with herself. She stamped her foot capriciously like a child. She declared with perfect good faith that I could also buy the flowers during my trip. Shocked by such a declaration, I asked for an explanation from my almost new bride, and she told me:
"I say a spanking could sort my foolish ideas out!”
I dragged my young wife to our bedroom, sat on the edge of our bed and laid Sylvie across my lap.
"Stop! We'll be late! Okay, darling, yes, I deserve a spanking ... you can give it to me tonight!”
Wait? No way! This little domestic scene had to take place on the spot! I rolled up her skirt, and this gesture made her change her attitude.
"Please, darling, not like that! You'll wrinkle my skirt! Give me a spanking over my skirt.
No question was going to stop me in my tracks. My eyes discovered a nice pair of gray stockings attached to a garter belt of the same even colour, and lovely little lace panties. Without wasting a second, I pulled down her panties, which were blocked by the garters just below her buttocks. I put my right hand on one of her buttocks to make an accurate assessment. I raised my hand and delivered the slaps, from the right buttock and after the left one and vice versa while her ivory colored backside gradually changed to pink and a beautiful crimson as the spanking continued.
My slaps went from severe to sweet caressing and feeling the pulpy flesh, and burning bottom that. Sylvie responded to my caresses with a sigh. However, our obligations prevented us from continuing. My wife stood up, her cheeks as red as her buttocks. She left the room, skirt up, panties down and bottom bare.
Full of desire, I finished getting ready, and after I found Sylvie ironing her skirt, wearing only her blouse, showing her long legs sheathed in nylon and her nearly naked buttocks, panties still down.
This wedding was a small committee feast of good humor between the couples. My desire exacerbated during the ceremony and reception. Back home in the evening, head to head Sylvie and I were a brilliant fireworks.
A few years later, with Christine and Martin, flipping through a photo album of this marriage, Sylvie pressed her hips against my thigh and whispered in my ear:
"Do you remember the spanking you gave me this morning? My buttocks are still shaking when I think about that spanking!"