Super spank!

Hello, my name is barely.pink and I've been a spanko since I could remember.

During my early years I lived in typical middle-class suburbia: rows of brick ranch houses on a quiet cul-de-sac, lots of neighborhood children, and playing outside until dusk. I had two particularly close friends during that time, Michelle and Brian.

Michelle and I would spend hours playing in her finished basement. We created a house under her father's pool table and played Barbies inside. And we would spank each other, taking pauses between the Barbie drama. Sometimes we would argue over who would "get" to be spanked; neither of us much enjoyed spanking the other, the fun was in receiving.

And occasionally we would rope our good friend, Brian, into the fun & games. He would play the daddy while Michelle and I would alternate between mommy and child.

Brian was a good-natured sort. Being the youngest of three older brothers, he was used to being steamrolled. So when Michelle or I would say, "Spank me! I've been naughty!", he would unquestioningly oblige. Over the knee we'd go for a quick round of smacks to our covered bottoms. Oh! The tingles!

One memorable day, Brian dressed like Superman. His costume was a good one: utility belt, cape, built-in pecs with the "S" emblem, he even wore tights! Dressed as he was, he looked the spitting image of the superhero with his dark, wavy hair, strong chin and piercing blue eyes.

That day Michelle and I were playing in his tree house while Brian ran around below, cape flying behind him, making "whoosh!" and "POW!" sound effects.

He clearly needed to save someone and he was armed and ready for the task. So, I, being the damsel-in-distress type (no longer) and his cooperative accomplice, climbed out the window of the tree house and hung there.

"Help! Superman, help me!" I called while kicking my legs and desperately hoping that I would not, in fact, fall.

Brian loyally sprang into action. He bounded, as only Superman might, up the tree house ladder and got to the window in a flash. Michelle dutifully played her part and said, "Thank goodness you made it in time to help my friend, Superman!"

And there we were, Superman leaning out the window attempting to rescue the foolish girl who endangered herself to garner his attention. Resting his elbows on the ledge, his hands locked around my upper arms and he pulled with all of his might to bring me to safety, his face screwing up tightly with the exertion.

After I was safely inside and caught my breath, I realized that Brian really was angry. I had worried him with my foolishness. I watched the boy, in his Superman gear, wipe his brow and breathe in deep huffs and puffs as his face resumed its normal color. He could barely look at me!

And then, free of preamble, he pulled me over his lap and delivered the mother of all spankings! A Super Spank! He lectured; he scolded; he paused to make sure I was paying attention. It went on forever, with Michelle giggling next to us, undoubtedly wishing it was her that had devised the "window plan".

And afterwards, we remained in the tree house until our parents called us home. Three children emerged, seemingly innocent, who had just had the earliest costumed role play perhaps in the history of spanking.