Daytona Beach Correction (M/F)

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Daytona Beach Correction (M/F)

The tanned old widower was taking his daily walk along the beach when he suddenly stopped and cocked his head. His left ear registered the Atlantic surf, but his right ear caught a faint sound that triggered old memories. Like a dog searching for a faint scent, the man turned his head to the right and left, wondering if the sound was real or just wishful imagination.

Wait! There it was again! Yes! He distinctly heard the unmistakable sound of repeated slaps of a hand against bared buttocks. At first barely audible, the sounds grew stronger as the spanker delivered firmer swats. Verification came in the form of a female voice which began to grunt, complain, and then exclaim after each spank. The lady’s shrill entreaties informed the old man that the spanker’s name was “Sam”, that the lady was very “sorreeey”, and that she would “never lie again”.

As he listened, the man felt a rare and delicious stirring in his loins. The sounds of the lady’s correction made delightful visions dance through his head, reminding him of the many times his own dear wife had made similar sounds whilst her naked, shapely, kinetic form was draped across his lap.

Because the beachfront was lined with dozens of hotels, it was impossible to tell which of hundreds of rooms the sounds were coming from, so the couple’s privacy was safe. Besides, nobody but the old man seemed to pay any attention to the sounds. Perhaps his ears were particularly tuned to spanking sounds?

Finally the spanks stopped. The lady’s voice faded, drowned out by the surf and the varied sounds of busy Daytona Beach. With a wistful smile, the man had started to totter on, when he suddenly heard a series of much sharper sounds, sounds that he recognized as the sounds of wood meeting buttflesh. The lady’s voice suddenly reappeared, this time louder, shriller, and more urgent. A clear picture appeared in his head; the lady was naked, across her husband’s lap, her wrists gently but firmly pinned into the small of her back by his left hand, her legs restrained by one of his legs, and her heaving bottom quickly acquiring a deep but splotchy red patina. The old man looked around guiltily, assuming that everyone on the beach must notice his inappropriate bulge. Though he hated to leave the one spot where the spanking sounds seemed to be audible, the man quickly stumbled across the sand to the nearest bench so he could sit, hide his erection, and luxuriate in old erotic memories and sensations.
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The couple (Sam and Mary) had been married two years. Still childless, they had used birth control through their financially-tough first year, but were now trying to become parents. The couple enjoyed a robust sex life that included “fun” spankings, but Mary also received an occasional true punishment spanking. Her punishment spankings were part of an explicit agreement that the couple negotiated before their marriage.

The idea of a “second honeymoon” summer vacation at the beach was originally Sam’s, but Mary quickly fell in love with the notion. Two weeks in a hotel room would be a financial strain, but both understood the need to take time out together. There was also a growing, mutual longing to become parents. After two “false alarms” in the last year, they dared hope that two weeks of rest and daily sex might be just the thing to finally get Mary pregnant. If nothing else, the vacation would be refreshing and fulfilling for both of them, and a tonic for their marriage.

Perhaps this is what Mary was daydreaming about when she ran that stop sign, nearly causing an accident. Unfortunately for Mary, a police officer saw the whole thing. The ticket was for running the stop sign and for reckless driving.

This would be a much simpler story if Mary had simply faced Sam and “fessed up” rather than hiding the ticket. This story might also be different if Mary had picked a better hiding spot for the ticket.

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Two weeks later, Mary had nearly forgotten the ticket when Sam called her name. Her stomach turned a flip when she saw that pink slip of paper in his hand. “Please explain this to me” he requested ominously. There was, of course, little to explain; save an admission of the sordid facts. He listened patiently before asking the main question smoldering on his mind; “When were you planning to tell me?” “I’m not sure” she finally answered honestly. “Never?” he asked. Again she answered, honestly but in a tiny voice: “Maybe”. In a gentle voice he said, “You realize that we are dealing with a lie here, right?” She looked up with a start, but then realized he was right. She nodded miserably. It was in their agreement, so they both knew the agreed punishment for lying. It involved a wooden ruler and Mary’s bare bottom.

After further somber discussion, Sam pronounced sentence: Two spankings, one for the ticket, and one for the lie. Mary was at first apprehensive at the prospect of two punishment spankings in one day, but then she learned Sam’s real intent. “Strip right now for your first spanking” he ordered, “It will be the one for the ticket; just a hand spanking. For the lie you get the ruler; but not today. To let you properly anticipate your punishment, you will wait the same two weeks that I waited to see this ticket.”

Mary had mixed emotions; happy for only one punishment today, yet apprehensive about waiting two weeks for her worst punishment spanking ever. Anyhow, there was little time for her to contemplate the situation. In a bit of a daze, she found herself undressing for her husband who waited expectantly in an armless chair. The spanking that followed was heartfelt, noisy, and painfully memorable. When it was over, Sam led his bawling wife to the bedroom where he comforted her and cooled her livid bottom with lotion. One thing quickly led to another. Before they knew what was happening, they were making mind-blowing love.

Mary did not fully realize her predicament until the following day. When Sam came home from work, she sat him down to talk. “We have a little problem” she began. “Oh?” Sam asked with raised eyebrows. “It’s about my ‘other’ spanking. You said ‘two weeks’, but that puts it right in the middle of our Daytona vacation.” “I know,” Sam said with finality, “be sure to pack our spanking ruler, we will need it.”

“But…but,” she stuttered

“No buts,” Sam insisted, “you lied and that is the punishment we agreed on for lying. I think that the timing is perfectly fair under the circumstances.”

Fair but firm, Sam would allow no further discussion. Mary packed for their trip, obediently including the dreaded spanking ruler. They left Saturday morning for Daytona.

They had reserved a nice top floor room with a beachside balcony at one the many hotels that lined the beach. They soon fell into a routine. In the morning, a pre-breakfast swim on the nearly deserted beach. Then back to their room for breakfast on their balcony. By then, hoards of beach venders would be setting up for the day. Later they would be treated to a Daytona Beach tradition, the strange sight of hundreds of cars driving along the beach. Soon the beach would be jammed with the chairs and umbrellas of sun-worshipers. After another brief swim, the couple would dress and prowl the boardwalk while avoiding the day’s hottest sun. Here, they would usually buy lunch. Then back to the hotel for an afternoon of sex, snuggling and snoozing. Later, the sun would cool enough for their afternoon swim. Evenings were spent in the city’s nightlife or sitting naked on their darkened balcony sharing a bottle of wine and feeling the velvet touch of the evening sea breeze caress their most intimate body parts as their souls and bodies melted together.

For the first week, nothing had been said about Mary’s spanking, so she began to entertain hopes that Sam was mellowing. Clinging to the tiny chance that he had forgotten, Mary never brought up the subject.

It happened on Tuesday of their second week at their dawn swim. They were standing in waist high water when Sam pulled Mary into a tight, buttock-cupping hug. “I hate to bring this up,” he said, “but I have a duty to perform after lunch today.” Immediately catching his meaning, Mary bravely returned the hug and murmured, “I was hoping you had forgotten.” Determined to maintain a brave front, Mary was fortunate that the surf spray concealed her tears.

After their usual morning routine, they walked the boardwalk and shopped a bit. Mary remarked that wearing her bikini in public would be a problem after her spanking. After a moment’s thought, Sam agreed, an addition to her beach wardrobe would be needed. In a cluttered boardwalk shop they found the perfect thing, loose terry pants to cover the marks that would soon decorate Mary’s bottom. Mary blushed, hoping that the clerk could not guess the reason for her purchase.

Hand-in-hand, they strolled down the boardwalk, window shopping and people-watching until lunchtime. They found a picnic table in the arcade, and shared lunch while they watched children skylark, chatter and play games. Their conversation soon turned to dreams of the day they would bring their own children here. Realizing they were both delaying the inevitable, Sam suggested they return to their room. Mary reluctantly agreed.

They were only a half-block from the hotel when Sam found a shaded park bench in a private spot where they could have their pre-spanking talk in the most neutral setting possible. The talk was short, but Sam made sure that it really was a “talk” and not a “lecture”. He asked Mary questions to keep her engaged rather than just passive. After a few more minutes, they mutually decided to go to the room and “get it over”.

Once in the room, Sam helped Mary out of her bikini, and sent her to use the toilet and shower while he prepared for her spanking.

Sam had chosen their room carefully for maximum privacy. It was the end unit on the top floor. That meant only one neighboring room, fortunately usually vacant. He chose the afternoon for Mary’s correction because the hotel staff was normally scarce after lunch. Just to be sure, Sam walked out on the balcony and surveyed the situation. All was clear. His original plan was to turn up the television to hide the sounds, but he was surprised how much noise was drifting up from the beach. The room was filled with the sounds of surf, Harley Davidson motorcycles, competing radios, and squealing children. Perfect! There were so many people on the beach, making so much noise, that the couple had perfect privacy.

Sam walked back in; leaving the balcony door wide open to let the beach sounds and the surf air permeate the room. He found the ruler and moved a chair from their tiny dinette into the bedroom. Just then, he heard Mary turn off the shower. Beach towel in hand, Sam strode into the bath to meet his nude wife exiting the shower.

Seeing the towel, Mary naturally expected Sam to dry her off, so she was surprised when he took her hand and led her into the bedroom still dripping wet. Sam sat on the chair, folded the towel over his lap and looked at his beautiful wife expectantly. “I read somewhere that it hurts more on a wet bottom,” he explained reasonably.

“Let’s get this over,” he said, guiding her into place.
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So now you know what the old man heard. Of course, the widower didn’t get to see the damage to Mary’s bottom after Sam was finally done with that ruler, and he didn’t get to see Mary’s lewd “spanked brat dance” after Sam allowed her up from his lap. Nobody saw Sam tenderly kiss the tears from his wife’s face nor heard him mumble those calming, forgiving words into her ear. And only Sam saw Mary spread-eagled facedown on the bed still sobbing a few last tears into her pillow as he tenderly applied soothing aloe cream to her throbbing bottom.

As usual, one thing led to another, and the couple expressed their mutual forgiveness in their favorite manner. With Mary’s eager help, Sam’s clothes vanished. Working together, they found a position that spared Mary’s tender bottom. Soon, Mary’s few remaining tears dissolved into sweat as her passion soared.

Down on the beach, the man sat and surreptitiously touched himself. Had anyone bothered to notice, they would have thought him “a dirty old man”. But actually his thoughts were pure…purely of his own late wife; his one great love. His mind framed a younger, idealized image of her in soft bedroom lighting. She was quite naked, and yes, she had a very red bottom. Still lost to the world around him, the man smiled distantly.

That old man was clearly in the closing chapters of his life. Sadly, this would be his last summer vacation on the beach. But nature has a way of compensating for these things! Up in the top floor of that beach hotel, Sam & Mary’s passion had just sparked a brand new life into existence. In due time, the sand would see a fresh set of tiny footprints.

That’s how it goes; even on summer vacation, the circle of life continues.


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