Chapter 10
Bespectacled Wilson Aldrich hadn't waited for midnight on this Saturday which marked the ending of the big Thanksgiving weekend. Quite nonchalantly, as brown-haired Rose was standing in front of her dresser mirror primping her hair and preparatory to going to bed some forty minutes before the witching hour, the tow-headed advertising man remarked, "You know what, Rose honey? I sort of feel like a game of ping pong right now. And maybe a snack out of the icebox. How does that strike you?"
Rose Aldrich wheeled, her eyes widening with surprise. Her husband had always been, at least in her estimation, overly predictable in his habits. He was punctual to a fault, he worked-she wouldn't gainsay that, and he did make a good living at it-but sudden unplanned activities had just never become a natural part of their household in this early stage of their marriage. "This time of night, Wilson? Whatever got into you? I know, it was all the eggnog you had Wednesday."
"No, it wasn't the eggnog. I just feel like doing it now. Come on, Rose, humor me for a change. Just one game, and then well have something to eat, and talk, and then go to bed. After all, it's almost Sunday, and well be going back home and we probably won't see all the family till Christmas."
"You make it sound as if it was a sad occasion. But I really don't feel up to a ping pong game, Wilson. Maybe a quick snack, though I'm really not hungry. I just don't know what's got into you all of a sudden."
"Like I said, just humor me for once, honey. Come on, let's go!" he urged.
Rose shrugged her beautiful rounded shoulders, frowned at the mirror, then smoothed down her green wool skirt. She had on a pretty white tailored blouse with Peter Pan collar, the suit coat which matched the skirt having already been removed. Glancing wonderingly at her bespectacled husband, she opened the door and went down the stairs towards the kitchen, as he followed behind her. His face was set with a new kind of determination, and his usually mild, meek-looking eyes behind the glasses had suddenly grown curiously hard and glittering.
He let her open the refrigerator door and peer inside, while he stood with his arms folded behind him, contemplating the way her tight skirt snugged over her luscious bottom, hiking just slightly to show him her lovely calves and lower thighs sheathed in transparent, fine-denier charcoal brown nylons. He was in slacks and a polo shirt, and what Rose didn't know was that he had already removed his shorts in the bathroom about half an hour ago. And already, the visible evidence of his male nakedness under the slacks was making itself prominently emphatic as his swelling prick prodded against the fly of the neat, unwrinkled brown slacks.
"Honestly, I don't see anything in here except maybe some apples. Do you want one of those, Wilson dear?"
"No. I told you, I'd much rather play ping pong first. Come on, it's just down the pantry stairway and we're there. Just one game, Rose."
"Oh, all right," she said exasperatedly as she slammed the refrigerator door shut. "Let's get it over with then."
He went ahead of her into the pantry, flicked on the light switch to illumine the dark stairway, and watched as she descended, then with a silent chuckle, followed her. She opened the door to the recreation room, as he moved quickly behind her to reach in and flick on the light switch.
"Just one game now, remember," she listlessly reminded him as she moved toward the table and picked up one of the paddles. Wilson, his back to the door, reached behind him and locked it. Then he moved quickly toward the ping pong table, and, as she stood with her back to him, suddenly grabbed the scruff of her neck with his left hand and forced her to bend forward across the table.
"What-stop that-let me up-whatever has got into you, Wilson Aldrich?" she peevishly cried out as she tried to rise. But her bespectacled husband had already evolved his plan well in advance, with admirable efficiency and economy of movements, he yanked up skirt and slip with his right hand as high as her waist, inserted his fingers under the waistband of her filmy white nylon panties and pulled them down without more ado. Rose wore a white satin elastic garter belt whose narrow tabs hugged the sides of her luscious creamy thighs and caught the tops of her sheer nylons to leave them without a wrinkle on her beautifully curvaceous calves and thighs.
"My God, have you gone crazy? You let me up this minute or you'll be awfully sorry, Wilson Aldrich! I'm warning you now!" she cried, trying to kick out at him, and putting her hands behind her to cover-up her creamy naked behind.
With an agility that she hadn't suspected he possessed, the bespectacled advertising man, while still retaining hold of the scruff of her neck with his left hand, sat on the table and swung himself onto it, then promptly got astride his wife's back and sat down heavily, facing her naked bottom. With his left hand he tugged up the skirt and slip and rolled them into a neat mass, raising up his bottom to shove them under it and then reseating himself. Then, grabbed the other ping pong paddle, he lifted it high in the air and brought it down with all his might against the lower summit of his wife's naked left buttock.
"Owww! Don't you dare! You beast, you horrible, crazy beast you! Whatever has got into you, Wilson? Why are you doing this to me?" she shrilled, hammering at the ping pong table with her fists. Fortunately for him it was a sturdy kind, non-collapsible, and it just did hold both their weight without giving way. Not that it would have mattered to him at this moment; he had made up his mind and now that he had carried out his rash plan, he was beginning to feel himself lord and master of a beautiful but rather haughty and diffident young woman who had already begun to treat him like an old shoe and take him for granted just like the other members of the family.
He watched Rose's voluptuous, plump creamy bottom twist and squirm and weave, watched her legs kick out frantically as he slowly lifted the paddle and then brought it violently down on the other cheek, this time a little higher and toward the edge of her naked hip.
"Eeeek! That hurts! Stop it, I tell you! You've gone crazy, you absolutely have, Wilson Aldrich! If you don't stop and let me up, I--I'll never speak to you again!"
"Good! You haven't got much to say to me anyway lately anyhow," he angrily retorted as he brought the paddle down for the third whacking time. They were made of pinewood and, though thin and flexible, conveyed an emphatic sting, particularly when wielded with all the energy and pent up, brooding annoyance Wilson Aldrich had been harboring against his beautiful wife for the last few months of their marriage. Another three spanks produced a wailing cry and this time Rose forgot to threaten; the burning sting of the paddle had begun to cause her a great deal of discomfort, as did her husband's weight, bearing down on her back as she was forced to bend across the table, her panting breasts flattening against its surface: "Owww! Please, Wilson, you're hurting me! You're crushing me! Please don't do this to me, it's shameful!"
"So is the way you've been acting towards me, Rosie!" he sarcastically retorted as he lifted the paddle and brought it down with all his strength over the crevice between her jutting, squirming naked creamy asscheeks.
"Owwwouuu! Oh please, for God's sake, this is just awful-you're hurting-I tell you, you're hurting me! I never thought you were such an awful brute-boohoo!" she wailed.
"There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Rosie baby, and this is as good a time as any to find out. Then when I get you back home, maybe you could start being a real wife to me, the kind I wanted when I first met you and thought you'd be." With this, he resumed the spanking. Absolutely ignoring all her frantic cries and sobbing supplications for mercy, watching her legs kick till her pumps shot off and thudded along the floor, and watching most of all the way her creamy skin turned first a vivid pink and then an angry red, he continued to lift and descend the springy paddle against her jutting, upturned buttocks without bothering to count the strokes. They had by this time reached at least forty, and now Rose Aldrich's voice was choked with tears and sobs and was almost incomprehensible as she humbly begged for mercy: "Ohh-oooawww-boohoopuh-puhlease, W-Wilson-oh God -it hurts -oooh-I can't stand any more, I'll be good, I'll do anything you want-I promise -eeeeeek! Please, please, I'm begging you to stop-ohhh, d-darling, I'll be the best girl you ever had if you'll only stop now! Owww-ouch, owwouuu! Oh please!"
Panting, sweating with exertion, his arm tired by now, Wilson Aldrich lowered the paddle and then patted his wife's blazingly inflamed, wriggling naked buttocks. "Do you mean it, Rosie?" he demanded. "Will you do everything I tell you to and not give me an argument?"
"Ohh, I'm dying-oh how it hurts-oh my poor b-bottom-oh anything-please-oh Wilson-let me up now," she wailed.
Gritting his teeth, he raised his arm again, hovered it high, then swept it down with all his remaining strength, again right over the crevice between her discolored, shuddering bottom-cheeks.
"Owww!! " Rose hysterically howled, kicking her feet to and fro in the air and trying desperately to arch herself up and throw him off her, but to no avail.
"I asked you a question. Are you going to do everything I tell you to? Tell me you will and do it fast, or I'll keep this up all night," he warned.
As he punctuated this stern declaration, he applied two hard spanks, one to the upper summit of each darkly inflamed bottom globe, and Rose Aldrich fairly yelled, "Owwouuu, yes, yes, I promise, I'll do everything you tell me, I swear I will, just please don't spank me any more, please, darling, I'll obey you in everything!"
'That's all I wanted to hear. But you'd better keep your promise, or else!" he grimly avowed as he swung his legs down to the floor. Rose lay sprawled and crushed, conquered, sobbing as if her heart would break, as he dropped his slacks and stood behind her with his prick violently outthrust. "Open those legs of yours and get ready," he growled.
He reached out to pinch both her buttocks, and Rose Aldrich wailed and squirmed herself to spread her thighs as wantonly as any two-dollar whore.
'That's the way I want you from now on," he declared as, digging his fingers into the edges of her squirming, reddened hips, he thrust his prickhead against the yawning pink twitching gape of her cuntal orifice. With a groan of pleasure, he engaged himself just inside her, holding himself motionless to feel the convulsive clamping of her vaginal walls, and then greedily and slowly forced himself homeward in her to the hilt.
"I'm going to fuck you good and hard, Rose. And when we go home next week, I'm taking off an extra week from the office and we're going on a sort of second honeymoon. Up to the North Woods, and I'm going to rent a cabin and keep you naked and busy and cooking my food and serving it to me on your knees all week long, you understand me?"
"Oww -aaah -oh darling -oh God -oh Wilson-I never dreamed you could be like this-oh lover, I'll do anything for you-ohh-oh f-fuck me good-oh it's so good now-oh harder, Wilson lover, harder!" Rose mewled, squirming and twisting herself this way and that over the table, arching up her hips to give him total access to her dripping, burning, yearning cunt.
"All right then. Grab the edge of the table and spread those sexy legs of yours wider than you've got them now, Rose!" he commanded in a harsh, lust-dominated voice. Squirming, whimpering, herself almost at the moment of fulfillment, Rose Aldrich stretched her trembling hands to grip the edge of the table, shifting her feet on the floor, and instinctively shoving out her flaming, burning bottom to her husband.
'That's perfect, and stay right like that while I finish fucking you, Rosie," he told her. And she shuddered with masochistic delight to hear him use that mocking endearment, somehow realizing that for him it was the symbol of taking at last the upper hand in their marriage.
Then she squealed with excitement, for she had just felt his forefinger probe between their bodies to find her tingling clitoris, flatten it back into the soft sensitive protective cowl of pink cuntal flesh, then let it spring up, only to tweak it and roll it from side to side.
"Ahh-ahhohhh W-Wilson, oh that's just heaven-ohh my God-oh, never-ahh-knew you-you could f-fuck a girl so w-wonderfully, oh my darling, I've been so naughty to you "
"I know," he panted, feeling her spank-heated bare bottom grind and squirm against his belly, as he arched himself to keep his aching prick from slipping out of her contracting vaginal sheath. "And this won't be the first bare-ass paddling you're going to get from me either, Rosie. Seeing you hot it seems to make you in front as well as behind, I've a good mind to keep you on a regular schedule of paddling. Maybe every night for the next couple of weeks till I see just how you behave in bed."
"Ohhhh darling, that's wonderful," she moaned, her eyes rolling, her body wantonly wriggling against him to implore his resumption of the hot digging thrusts of his hard-rutting prick. "But oh please, make me cum, lover. I want to cum so bad I'm going crazy from it!"
"Yes, you sweet bitch, you're going to cum," he promised.
His forefinger flattened her sensitive, hardening nodule, then released it as his prick drew halfway back, then crammed home.
Rose Aldrich mewled and sobbed, biting her lips, her nostrils flaring and shrinking. Her fingernails tore at the edges of the table, as she writhed, feeling her cuntal walls grind and clench against her husband's prick.
Then, drawing back a last time, he thrust violently to the balls inside Rose's moist, convulsive sheath, his finger rubbing her clitoris this way and that, and felt himself explode a torrent of hot bubbling jism into the deepest recesses of her wildly aroused soft cunt.
Rose uttered a piercing shriek, her hips bucking back at him, her warm satiny, discolored naked bottom grinding against his shuddering belly, as her own tides gushed forth to mingle with his own.
This year's Trent family reunion was indeed ending on a triumphantly male chauvinistic note!