It's vacation time!

It's Friday! I am finally on vacation. Woo hoo!

I spent last night packing, which explains why I didn't do any blogging. I have a feeling that I won't be posting as often. I am travelling tomorrow, so we'll see if I have anything to say while weaving through an airport terminal or two.

The Canada Day long weekend has begun for most Canadians. Please enjoy! I will be stateside for Canada Day, the 4th of July, and my birthday. I intend on enjoying every day away from work.

Enjoy your weekend!

Z is for zap

I have reached the finish line. I am at the final letter of this challenge. Woo hoo!

It has been a slice. Thanks to everyone for following along. I hope to do this challenge or a similar one sometime soon.

For years, I have been curious about electric paddles that emit a zap. Initially, I saw a similar paddle on eBay years ago, but it was geared toward zapping flies and bugs. Naturally, it was a hidden way for the seller to say that it was for some spanking and paddling fun.

I am still hesitant about having it used on me. How strong are these zaps? Part of me wants to go out and buy one. After all, it is less than $20. But, how safe are they, really?

I have read some of the reviews. One review scares me. It says that the paddle left "burns on my victims." The same person goes on to say that the paddle emits "a very brief, yet intense shock."

I am still mixed about it. Will I actually like being shocked for such a brief moment? Do I want burns on my backside? After all, the thought of having welts on my backside does not appeal to me, let alone burn marks.

If you have had experiences with using an electric zapping paddle, either administrating or being on the receiving end of one, please share!

Y is for Yes (also known as Mr. Meanie)

My guy called me from the office on Saturday. Although he would never admit it, he had hoped that I would be waiting for him at the office. He didn't seem too enthusiastic about my wanting to be there when we had spoken on Friday, so I decided not to.

I got a call from him because I wasn't my usual loyal, predictable self. He didn't seem to want me there, but started to change his tune. When I wasn't waiting for him with open arms on Saturday, I got his phone call.

I got as close to an apology as I will ever get from him. Next time, I can even pick him up at the airport. I think that he is slowly realizing that I do enjoy spending time with him, even if it is something that seems so insignificant like picking him up at the airport.

Part of it is the fact that he is a guy. He is old-fashioned to some extent. He doesn't want me to spend so much time driving across several towns to get to work just to see him for a brief moment. To me, it is worth it and it is not a huge deal.

I could tell that he wanted to see me when he asked if I still wanted to drive to work. I politely declined. He understood.

The problem is that if I constantly press seeing him under such circumstances, it becomes the norm. I change it up a bit and he feels the same way as I do. He truly does miss me equally as I do whenever he is away on business.

I asked him if he was jet lagged.

"Sort of. I think that my memory is fading a bit today."
"Nah, I don't think so. As long as you know your name, that's all that matters," I reassured him.
"Well, my name starts with Y and has an S somewhere," he said.
"So, your name is Yes," I stated confidently, which made him chuckle.
"Yes, indeed."

I tend to call my guy Mr. Meanie when we are role-playing and he ends up spanking me hard. He was a mean guy by not knowing whether I should come see him at the airport. I think that he has learned his lesson.

I can tell that he missed seeing me. The following day, he wrote me a nice e-mail, asking how I was and telling me about his day.

On Monday, I got to the office and saw my desk drawer slightly ajar. I pulled it out and noticed a present waiting for me. He had bought me an M&M's collectible item with peanut M&M's from Abu Dhabi. It was sweet of him. He made my day and probably my entire week.

He does know how to make up for being mean and indecisive. Yes, Yes does.

X is for Xylimelts

This post is by far the most challenging to write about. It is tough enough to find a word that begins with x that is not scientific. Sure, I could have chosen xylophone. I played one for kicks in elementary school and loved it.

Naturally, since my blog primarily describes my spanking experiences and thoughts, you would think that I would go with x-rated. I just don't feel like it.

Instead, I am in search of Xylimelts. In a roundabout way, this post is about oral health and how I have managed to give blowjobs while suffering from dry mouth. How is that for a blog post!

Years ago, there were anomalies with my blood test results. I ended up being diagnosed with Sjogren's syndrome. Despite most people getting such a diagnosis well into their forties, I got mine a decade earlier, in my early thirties. My case is considered mild. My doctor says that many people lead normal lives, with mild side effects.

The only major side effect that I experience is dry mouth. I compensate by drinking plenty of water, sucking on sugar-free candy, and using products such as Biotene that help produce saliva.

The funny thing is that whenever I give my guy a blowjob, I have no issues with saliva production. At first, I thought that the oral flavoured gel was helping me out. However, when I do not have oral gel with me, my saliva production is fine. My guy has never complained that my mouth wasn't lubricated enough.

I recently visited my dentist. The first time was for my routine cleaning. I went back there last week to have a cavity redone. Sure enough, my mouth was dry after both appointments.

My dental hygienist is wonderful. She always keeps me in mind. She recommended trying Xylimelts. You basically stick one of these tablets on your gums at the back of your mouth and it dissolves over time while helping to produce saliva.

She said that I could get it from most major drug stores. I have tried Shoppers Drug Mart, Rexall, Target, and Walmart, and have not found it. I am not sure whether this product or something similar is available in the States, but I will be there soon to do some retail research. It looks like I can order them online, which I am grateful for.

I am looking forward to giving this product a shot and see how things go.

W is for whack

Most of the time, my guy spanks me with his bare hand, mostly across my bare bottom. I love how intimate and physical the spanking is. He told me that he can feel his hand ache as he is spanking me hard.

The neat part about his reaction? He never complains about how sore his hand feels. He enjoys it. I am glad. I love when he spanks me hard.

I do like when he uses other implements, too. Sure, using them seems like an extension of his arm and a good substitute for his hand, but we both prefer a sound hand spanking for me.

It's the sound of a wooden paddle across my backside that arouses me. He has never used the one that I have had for years. In my car, I have a wooden, thick ruler, which we both love. It comes in handy! I am thinking of having him use a thicker, wider wooden paddle on me soon.

There is something about wood being used in a spanking or paddling that I like. I enjoy the sting and sound that it makes. I like looking at my butt afterward in the mirror and seeing how rosy-coloured it is.

He will need to easy me in when it comes to the intensity of the paddling. It has been a while. It is also a new implement and experience for him.

It'll be a nice present to him and for my birthday. I can't wait!

V is for vacate

On Friday afternoon, I had a dentist appointment. Naturally, my guy calls me, wanting to talk. He had about thirty minutes before he had to head off to the airport.

I called him through Skype on my cell phone, as I drove hands-free from my car. He was to arrive on Saturday afternoon. I asked him if I could meet him at the airport or at the office. He seemed hesitant, which made me sad.

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about my seeing you," I pointed out.
"I would only be there for thirty minutes. I have to clean out my cubicle according to the operations manager," he replied.
"I could help you," I replied.
"You would have to drive a fairly long distance to see me," he advised.
"You don't want me to see you," I stated.
"No, I would love to see you."
"It doesn't sound like it. I have one minute before my appointment. I have to go."

I wasn't too happy after that conversation. My guy noted it.

My guy arrived later than he had expected on Saturday. Both his plane and luggage were delayed. I had a feeling that he would call me from the office. He could sense how upset I was yesterday, especially when he figured out that I didn't bother going to the office to see him on Saturday.

We spoke for a bit. He then continued our conversation from the previous day.

"So, did you want to drive over here?" he asked me.
"There's no point. It was pretty clear yesterday that you didn't want to see me and that we have differing points of view."

I could hear him breath in.

"Okay, next time, I will let you drive all the way over to work to see me for thirty minutes and spend 25 cents on gas [with your hybrid car]."
"Okay," I said.
"I will even let you pick me up at the airport. We can hold hands as we drive back to the parking lot. I can then fondle you."

It's not a flat-out apology, but it's pretty close to one from him.

My guy and I reminisced about our cubicles that were once on the seventh floor of our office building. In January, I ended up moving to the eleventh floor again. My guy either works from home, or ends up in either our training or meeting rooms these days. As a result, he no longer needs his own cubicle.

We have had a lot of fond memories sitting across from each other on the seventh floor. We joked a lot. We did work across from each other. He also managed to fondle and spank me in that same area.

Good memories, indeed. More memories are to come, of course!

U is for undone

I am starting to get a bit sad that this challenge is less than one week away from ending. It's funny how it seems like an insane number of posts to write in a month. I am proud for making it this far and am thankful for getting lots of encouragement along the way.

My guy has the knack for undoing whatever articles of clothing I am wearing. I do not think that it is a universal skill that men have. My ex-husband was horrible at unhooking my bra and basically fiddling with anything intricate.

On the contrary, my guy not only can unhook my bra in literally a second, but he has done it with one hand. Wait, it gets even better! He can unhook my bra with his non-dominant left hand. He doesn't have to look. He just reaches behind my back, normally while we are kissing, and does it.

The same goes with unbuttoning and unzipping my pants. It is almost like his hand is a magnet. It just goes there and, in seconds, my pants come down, mostly for a spanking or some other activity that makes me excited.

I have never asked him about how he almost magically can unfasten the various hooks and buttons on my clothing. I just know that after we have had some fun, he will put me back together. He will make sure that my clothes are back on and that they look crisp. He's quirky and fun that way.

I have told him on several occasions that I feel like a doll when he undresses and dresses me. I can tell that he enjoys it all. It's nice.

As for me, I can unbutton the dress shirt that he's wearing fairly quickly. I get to perhaps the third button from his collar and I am happy caressing his chest. He is a traditionalist in the sense that he will help me to it, which includes unfastening his belt, and unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

There you have it. I didn't think that I would ever writing about such a topic. Never say never, as the saying goes.

T is for taxis and teasing

My guy and I literally work across the street from the airport. There are perks to having parking passes in a lot across from Pearson International Airport. When you have a flight to catch, you leave your car at work and take a taxi across the street to whichever terminal you need.

Mind you, for a five-minute-or-less ride across the street, taxicabs charge anywhere between $15 to $25. It's not cheap, but it certainly is much cheaper than paying a ridiculous $30 a day to park at the airport, depending on which parking lot you choose. It's much cheaper if you choose an offsite parking lot and get a shuttle ride to the airport.

Last week, my guy and I managed to squeeze in a lunch date before he left for the airport.

"Oh, I don't need you to drive me to the airport. I can take a taxi," he insisted, like the guy that he is.
"But, I want to take you," I replied.
"You know that I can expense my cab fare, right?"
"I know. I just want to spend as much time with you before you leave. I want to kiss you goodbye and hold your hand," I said.
"That's sweet, like you always are," he said lovingly.

A couple of days later, we were talking on Skype. He is a gentleman, thanking me for giving him a lift to the airport.

"My fear is taking a taxi back to my car at the office, and ending up touching his thigh and kissing him," he said, teasingly.
"If you do all that, can you capture it on video for me to watch?" I asked him.
"No, Cutiebootie!"

It's fun teasing him and getting him a bit worked up. It is almost my new hobby. Almost.

S is for spanking (of course!)

It seems so obvious that I would select spanking as my topic for today's post. Where should I go with it?

My birthday is fast approaching. For a while now, my guy likes when I give him a couple of gift suggestions.

I have told him that he is an excellent gift giver. Ever since I had joked about wanting a hot dog cooking appliance, he welcomes all gift suggestions from me.

So, I ended up giving him two ideas for my birthday gift. One was a popcorn maker. I go through popcorn in spurts. Yesterday, I had two small snack-sized bags of popcorn. I fear that having a popcorn maker will make me go on a popcorn-only diet.

The other item that I had suggested was a gadget. It's a cross between an Etch-a-Sketch and a tablet. You basically use a stylus to write down whatever you want, which replaces a pen and paper. You can save each page to memory, and then synchronize your device with your computer. I am all for writing and drawing more, and saving some money on paper pads and stick pens.

My guy decided to get me the latter, which was sweet of him. He knows how much of a gadget girl I am. The funny thing is that this device is only available online. He prefers going into stores to buy items. So, he had to ask me for my mailing address. He is on the road and wants to make sure that I have my gift before my birthday. He's thoughtful.

Do you know what I should have said that I wanted for my birthday right from the start? A birthday spanking.

I get pretty excited when I think about giving or getting a spanking. Getting a birthday spanking is special to me. For years, I never got one. Having a birthday in the summer and not really having major birthday bashes growing up would be one reason. I missed out on bending over and having friends give me a slap across my backside. Pinches would be nice, too!

It wasn't until I started dating that I got birthday spankings every year in my twenties. My now ex-husband was great at dishing them out. I reciprocated, which made it twice as sweet each year.

It is rare that my guy and I are together on our birthdays. I have a better shot at seeing him on his birthday than he is on mine. This year is no different. I have decided that I need a vacation and all the overtime that I have worked for the last month or so is helping me out.

I asked my guy if he could give me a belated birthday spanking. He didn't hesitate when he said yes. He added that extra smacks will be applied for every day past my birthday that we are apart. I am back almost a week later, so I expect to be sore for a while.

No complaints from me. It's my birthday and I want a rosy, spanked bottom.

R is for restraint

I feel like saying that the letter r also stands for rambling. I am unsure of where I will go with this topic, so you have been warned!

When my guy spanks or paddles me, I obediently bare my backside to take my punishment like a fairly good little girl. I find that playing the reluctant, I-don't-wanna-be-spanked girl to be just that -- pure acting and role-playing. It is a whole lot of fun!

My guy and I have talked about using restraints on my hands for a spanking. We have eventtalked about tying me up to a bed so he can play with me at his convenience. It hasn't happened yet, probably because I actually want to be spanked and punished. I won't resist it.

I do like trying to protect my getting-sore bare bottom with my hand. He will either swat my hand aside or just hold it behind my back as he continues with my spanking. I love it all.

It also takes a lot of restraint on my end to not caress his head too much in public or to be too touchy-feely. We hug, kiss, and hold hands in public. We are both affectionate people. I find his shaved head to be so attractive that there are moments where I have this incredible strong urge to caress it in public, but I have to hold back. It just seems inappropriate, especially when my guy chuckles.

My guy isn't laughing at me. He has told me countless time that he likes my touch and enjoys it when I caress his head. He just envisions what other people at other tables are seeing when he tilts his head forward and I reach out to touch it from across the restaurant table!

I have made a compromise. I will caress his head when we are in the car or have a quiet moment together in the office.

Yes, I like men with clean-shaven heads. I will leave it at that. =)

I had a good talk with my guy yesterday afternoon. He is doing well in India, but is still trying to adjust to the timezone, which is expected. He had a three-hour nap after work. And yes, he asked me a work-related question that began with by the way, which I had accurately mentioned in yesterday's post.

Q is for questions for the queen

My blog post's title is quirky. Coincidentally, today's challenge is a topic that begins with the letter q.

My guy has made it safely to India. We have talked a couple of times since he arrived. We were supposed to talk on Monday afternoon, but a celebratory team lunch at work prevented me from chatting with him. By the time we were done eating and chatting over lunch for a whopping three hours, my guy was fast asleep.

This post's title is all about my guy. I will need to back up a bit.

My guy and I used to work in the same department. Within the last two years, our past company was acquired by a larger one. Due to moulding to this larger company's departmental structure, my guy and I no longer work in the same department.

It's interesting that my guy comes into the office, but doesn't technically belong to any department. He is his own department. So, he tends to have tons of work-related questions and doesn't have a true team locally to help him out. As a result, he often fires questions at me, but does it in a gentle manner. I don't mind helping him out and he genuinely appreciates my help.

Often, his questions will start with by the way. I have teased him about it. I always know that his work-related questions begin with that lead-in. He recently broke tradition, but qualified one of his questions by saying that it would be quick.

Well, it was quick at the beginning. However, I had to sit with him for half an hour to finally determine that he doesn't have the proper access rights anymore to access a network drive. He no longer works for our old department, so many of his access privileges have been revoked.

So, what is this queen thing all about? My guy frequently calls me his queen. He believes that I deserve to be treated like one. He will tell me that when we kiss, which can be pretty often, and when he has a strong desire to tell me how much he loves me. He is affectionate and sweet in his own way. He treats me like a queen, too. I don't take it for granted.

This queen misses her king tonight. 

I talked to him a couple of hours ago before he headed off to work. I was doing laundry while he was ironing a dress shirt. Even though we are miles apart from each other, we tend to do related tasks that we both find therapeutic while we chat about anything we feel like. We feel closer, which helps.

P is for patting

My guy and I love to chat about anything under the sun or moon, depending on the time of day. It is one of many things that we have in common.

It's not to the point where we talk to each other till we pass out or anything. We just have a lot to say and it's interesting to us.

Several months ago, my guy admitted that he has never taken any formal music lessons. He mentioned a ladder as being one of the exercises that he knew about. Without skipping a beat, I knew that he had meant scale. The neat part of this conversation is that we didn't feel that it was weird.

In Arabic, a scale is a ladder. In French, a scale or a legend on a map is also called a ladder. It helps that we both are multilingual to make such a seamless connection.

Anyway, my guy makes sweet music in other ways. I saw the following picture on Facebook, which reminded me of how melodic he is when it comes to spanking me or just being playful with my backside.

A spanking is kind of like a solo. He gives his solo performance, and I feel and savour it. It nice.

O is for over his knee or a table

I recall a wonderful post that I had read on a blog the other day asking what spanking implement one loves and hates when it comes to receiving a spanking. By far, I love a hand spanking. I find it intimate and my butt aches for a while after a hard spanking. I like when my guy uses a ruler or a paddle on me, too. They definitely rank high on my list.

Getting the belt turns me on, but I don't like it actually used on me. At first, I thought it was because I didn't like the thought of having welts on my backside, which is partly true. It also stems from accidentally getting whipped on my lip by a belt carelessly being waved about by a classmate in grade 6.

I probably have mentioned it in passing, but I have never stated what spanking positions I like and don't like. So, that is what this post is about. Two of my favourite positions deal with being over something.

By far, I love an over-the-knee spanking. I feel comfortable being over my guy's lap. As with getting a hand spanking, I find being over his lap intimate. I like getting up after a hard spanking, and either curling up against his chest or kissing him as a simple thanks.

When I am over his knee, I playfully try and cover my backside with my hand to protect my butt from further smacks. However, my guy likes to pin my arm behind my back and spank me even harder after I do that.

I also like when I am bent over a table or sofa for a spanking. My guy has more of a swing with either his hand or an implement, so it's a different kind of pain that develops. I find that he likes running his hand from my ankle upward, to my calf, thigh, and buttock. He doesn't do that when I am over his knee.

When the smacks become intense and hard, I sometimes jerk my legs up. It doesn't happen much when I am bent over the table, but it happens more when I am over his knee. He will then caress my calf for a bit before continuing with my punishment.

What spanking position do I hate? I would have to say being bend over while grasping my ankles. I don't find that enjoyable at all. My guy doesn't like that, either.

Some people don't like the diaper position, but I don't mind it. It gives me a chance to see my guy's expression when each smack is delivered. He can also see how I am reacting to each one.

So, if you'd like to share what spanking positions you like or dislike, drop me a line. I would love to read your responses!

N is for no and nicknames

I got to spend a bit of time on Friday with my guy. It was a hectic day, for it was our major software release deadline.

My manager had a bunch of last-minute changes to do. My guy had a flight to catch and had to leave the office by 16:00. I was supposed to attend a team lunch to celebrate this software release being over. I would have rather had had lunch with my guy.

The day before, my guy told me to write him an e-mail if my lunch plans had changed. Sure enough, they did. I wrote to him, but he was offline.

I had colleagues who wanted to have lunch with me. It was nice of them to ask. Part of me wanted to go, but I was waiting for my guy to respond, so I took the chance and declined their offer.

Sure enough, just before 13:00, my guy called. He said that he would get his car and pick me up.

It was nice seeing him. He rarely wears jeans to the office and he always looks good in them. He wears them when he travels. He drove us to the restaurant. I got to caress his head once we were stopped at a set of lights.

We had a good lunch. We got to talk about how our day was going. My guy liked my blouse that I was wearing. The collar had a bit of elasticity. My guy liked that he could take a peek and count the number of boobs that I have. I asked whether he thought that I had a uniboob, which made him laugh. He approved of my blouse.

After we were done, we sat around and talked. I had my hands on my lap. They were stretched out. My guy decided to slouch a bit and his knees touched my hands. I ended up rubbing the tops of his knees. We both liked that. I told him that am a touchy-feely girl. He nodded.

After lunch, he drove us back to the office. Traffic was bad due to construction. My guy looked at my legs and loved the cropped jeans that I had on. He told me that I was so cute and pretty. In traffic, he gave me a blue crystal bracelet. His gift completely took me by surprise.

We got to the office and he accompanied me to my floor. It was sweet of him. He told me that he'd call to let me know when we could move his bags from his car over to mine.

It was 16:00 when he called. I went downstairs. He was at his car, parked next to mine, looking at its open trunk. He had a box of manuals that he had to bring to India. He asked me whether he should open the box and put the manuals in his suitcase, or just haul the box to the airport and check it in. I said to do the former. Sure enough, the manuals fit in nicely.

My guy had protein shakes and cans of salmon with him. East Indian food does not agree with his stomach, so he decided to bring friendly foods with him. I helped him move them into the suitcase with the manuals, as there was plenty of room left for them.

My guy had to go back to the training room to get his laptop.

"Promise me that you will not touch anything," he stated. He is protective of my back.
"Is that a threat?" I asked him.
"No, it's a warning," he replied, knowing me too well to want to help him out.

He took longer than he had anticipated to return to his car. He did move all three of his bags into the trunk of my car. They all fit, which was comforting.

I drove us across the street to the airport. We held hands. We joked and laughed.

"What airline are you flying on?" I asked him.
"It is Ethihad, operated by Jet Airways," he replied.

This airline does not roll off my tongue. I couldn't recall the name moments later.

"What was the airline again? Itchy witchy?" I asked, trying to look for the proper entrance to stop at.
"It's Ethihad," he said, laughing. "Bad, Cutiebootie! Bad!"
"I hope that you are okay flying without any elitist (business class) perks. You won't get any free cheese like you normally take for granted," I teased him.
"You sound like a bitchy mouse," he teased.

I suppose that my new nickname is bitchy mouse, which is funny. It doesn't describe my personality at all! I kind of like it.

In the car, I got to caress his head and we said goodbye. I asked him if I could kiss him. He said yes, so we did. He spent a good minute rubbing my thigh with his hand.

"I love your thighs. I can't wait to see you in a short skirt soon," he said to me.
"We need treehouse time when you're back," I replied.
"Yes, we'll arrange for something," he said, with both of us smiling at each other.

We got out of the car. My guy got his stuff out of the trunk and even helped me move my rolling bag into it. We embraced for a decent period. He assured me that he'd call me one he was in India.

I am glad that I got to drop him off at the airport and that we had lunch. Seeing him makes stressful workdays melt away.

M is for moo

I could have written about today being a significant milestone for me. I have blogged thirteen days in a row, something that I haven't done in years. I am nearly midway through this challenge.

Instead, I have chosen moo as my topic. Yes, I do mean the sound that a cow makes.

Years ago, I went to The Ex, which is short for the Canadian National Exhibition. It runs every year from August till early September. It's a fair, where you can go on rides, stuff your face with all sorts of food, shop, and see the air show during the Labour Day long weekend.

My parents used to take me there as a little girl. I ended up working there for three summers as a late teenager and towards the end of my undergraduate years.

Anyway, I ended up playing one of the games there and wound up winning a mini purple cow. I could have played more to trade up for a much larger plush toy, but I liked this cow. It was in my favourite colour. I had also never owned a stuffed cow toy.

Last week, my guy returned from Croatia. He got me a couple of gifts. One gift consisted of traditional cookies from the country, which are not too sweet. They are perfect.

The second gift? Milka chocolates with a mini stuffed purple cow. I got the rectangular gift bag like the one in this picture:

Coincidence? My guy doesn't know the story of my owning a purple plush cow. Now, I have two, to keep each other company.

He does know me well. I don't refuse chocolate. I also love anything purple. He is thoughtful that way.

So, that's it for my moo-ving post. Here's to being halfway through this udderly sweet challenge.http://theex.com/

L is for little things

I was pretty bummed out on Monday. It generally is the case when it's that time of the month. I then got an e-mail from my guy, saying that he had to cancel having lunch with me that day and possibly for the entire week.

To add to that piece of news, I asked him whether he would be free after work. He said that he would call me. He never did. Apparently, he came looking for me at 18:30. My day started at 08:30. I worked overtime and left just after 18:00. I didn't even bother responding to him.

My guy can tell when I am upset with him. I normally tend to contact him back pretty quickly. I didn't bother on Monday. He knew that he had to patch things up.

On Wednesday, I was expecting to not have lunch with him. I drove into work and got there by 12:30. Wednesdays are long days for me. My workday starts at 07:30 with a conference call that I take at home.

I parked my car at the office and noticed a text from my guy. He wanted to do lunch. I said that I would swing by the training room. He seemed pleasantly shocked to see me. He has never seen me at work that early on a Wednesday. We headed to his car and we drove to our usual restaurant hangout.

We both tried a new dish. It was spicy garlic chicken. It was yummy.

We were talking about my upcoming vacation. I will be away for my birthday. He remembered the exact date from memory. I was impressed. He told me that he could never forget such a special day. It's the little things that he says and does that impress me the most.

After lunch, we headed back to his car. He told me that he got Lexus rims on his car, even though he does not drive a Lexus. I had to walk around his car to look at them. They were nice.

As I was heading back to the passenger side, he noticed my bright red toenails and said so. I was impressed. He went on to say that I normally don't paint my nails such a bold colour. He is right. I tend to go with softer colours, or darker ones, such as midnight blue and purple.

He notices little things about me. I love how attentive he is. It's nice to be with an observant guy.

K is for The Kebob

Hey, my post for the letter f has made it on Chross' regular Spankings of the Week post! I am truly flattered. Thanks!

As this challenge progresses, I find it more difficult to come up with topics to write about. It's call a challenge for a reason!

From the title of my post, perhaps you're thinking that I intentionally had a clever double entendre or sexual innuendo of some sort in mind. Nope. Not at all. I am going to talk about kebobs.

What is The Kebob? It is a restaurant that my guy and I drove by just before we started dating. We were in his car, along with another colleague. We were trying to find a place to have lunch.

Our colleague didn't pay attention to it. My guy and I had the same thought when we first saw the restaurant sign:

"We should go to this restaurant to get only one kebob," I said.
"Yes, you only get a maximum of one kebob at The Kebob. Order more than one, and you're escorted out the door... the only door."

Perhaps that was a sign that we were meant to be together. We are nerdy when it comes to quantities. We also have strange senses of humour, but we get each other and how wacky our thoughts can get.

J is for Jill of all trades

I have been pondering what topic I could possibly write about that starts with the letter j. I actually had to find j words in the dictionary for inspiration!

I like Jello. It's one of those desserts that can have no calories. Putting coloured gelatin in fun moulds is a lot of fun. Jello jiggles, which makes me giggle.

Then, there Jif, the peanut butter that you can only get in the United States. I grew up watching commercials for the product on TV, but it wasn't and isn't available in Canada. Instead, Kraft peanut butter is the most popular brand here.

As a kid, I was fascinated by Jiffy Pop, the popcorn that you pop over a stove burner. I begged my mom to get me one. We did. It was a lot of fun. I haven't seen too many of them for years.

Instead, I am going to write about the phrase, Jack of all trades. My guy fits this definition. He has many skills. The difference is that he does practically everything well.

I first noticed how quickly he picks up new skills when we first started dating. When he spanked me for the first time, it felt like he had done it before. He told me afterwards that he had watched a spanking movie, just to make sure that he got the basics down pat. He sure did and he has honed this fine skill!

A few months later, I taught my guy how to use chopsticks. He is a pro at it. I also got him to say my name in Cantonese. He still remembers it.

People have told me that this saying applies to me, except I am more of a Jill of all trades. My colleagues marvel at the fact that I am pretty versed with our software product, which is highly technical. Our product makes sense if you have a background in programming, which I am fortunate to have, but don't claim to be an expert. I am different because most technical writers are not that technical. They tend to have an Arts degree in English, for instance.

I am far from knocking an Arts degree. Studies have shown that folks with an Arts degree are well-rounded individuals. I believe it. I am an artsy person. I listen to music all the time. I grew up playing various musical instruments and singing in the choir. I love attending concerts, ballets, plays, and musicals. I could go on and on.

I tend to be a quick learner. I have to, as there are more software features that require documentation than I can keep up with.

It's helpful to constantly want to learn. I can't drive a standard car, but I want to. My guy can, but wants to teach me with a rental car. His own car is an automatic, as is mine.

My guy wants to learn how to upholster various pieces of furniture. He tells me all the time that he learns a lot from me. The feeling is mutual. Wanting to learn also makes you curious and interested in people, places, and things.

We are Jack and Jill. Maybe that's one reason why we get along so well.

I is for indoors working extra work hours on a beautiful Saturday at the office, but not too busy to share a story about crossing paths

I must admit that it is a challenge to think of a topic that starts with the letter i. For the past couple of weekends, the weather has been warm and sunny, on the whole. It feels like early summer.

The sad thing is that I have been working on the weekends, due to crazy deadlines at work. So, I spend most of my time indoors, in front of my laptop, writing away.

I had originally written this post for the letter b, to represent busy. I decided to save it, so it has become what I am doing right now. I am indoors, posting this blog post!

My guy returned from his trip last Wednesday. This conversation that I am about to post took place last Saturday. I was at work, putting in extra hours, and he called. It made being the only person at work seem much more bearable.

Last Saturday, it was a beautiful, sunny day in Toronto. It was 22°C and I was stuck indoors. I am still deficient in vitamin D.

At the office, I sit by the window. Last Saturday, I still got to see the sun for a bit. The air conditioning was effective. I wasn't interrupted my other writers asking me question after question like I normally get. I don't mind that, but not when we are all trying to meet a deadline or two. I could hear myself think. I was a pleasant change.

My guy pinged me on Skype at around 18:00. As always, I enjoy talking to him. He was in a chatty mood. I love hearing what he has to say.

He told me that he had visited a museum in Zagreb on Saturday. It was a unique one in which folks talks about stories pertaining to the artifacts on display. One was a stiletto shoe.

My guy was explaining that two childhood sweethearts had loved each other since they were ten years old. They dated throughout high school, but then broke up.

Twenty years or so later, the girl moved to Amsterdam and worked as a dominatrix in the red light district. A man came in and wanted to be dominated. She told him to lick her stiletto. He didn't hesitate and did so.

It took her some time, but she recognized who he was. It was indeed her childhood sweetheart. They started to talk. He explained to her that he had always been submissive, as his dad used to beat him as a child. He was now married with a couple of children. Yet, he needed an outlet to explore his submissive side.

They never saw each other after that night. She gave one of her stilettos to this museum. The other one, she kept as a cherished souvenir.

I like that story. I need to visit that museum. It sounds so different and intriguing to me.

H is for hot dog

This challenge is for 26 days, as each day starts with a letter from the alphabet. So, with June having 30 days, I could either blog six days a week, or just trying to get through each day with the next letter of the alphabet. I seem to be doing the latter. We'll see if I can continue this trend!

I talk about my love for eating a hot dog now and again. Last week, I went to South St. Burger Company and ordered one. My guy called me while I was indulging. I am probably one of the few p people who love a leafy lettuce leaf in my hot dog bun. We then talked on Skype and I told him about it.

My guy vows never to get me a hot dog. He is right that a hot dog isn't exactly the healthiest food you can choose, but he is bending a bit these days. This compromise consists of my buying a hot dog and eating it occasionally.

Our hot dog debate started when we were both in St. Louis. My guy loves Costco. It is his favourite store. We went there to shop. My guy is boyish in that when he is hungry, he must eat something or else he will be a grumpy guy. He may start whining. It wouldn't be a pleasant experience. So, we ate there.

He is a gentleman in that he will always pay for my meal whenever we are out. He doesn't have to. He wants to. At Costco, it was the same routine, except that he wouldn't let me order a hot dog.

Since then, I always bring up the suggestion of going out to get a hot dog. I like to see my guy roll his eyes and tell me that it will never happen. I will playfully pout and whine.

One conversation that I never wrote about went something like the following several months ago:

"You're mean. You should let me order whatever I want to eat at Costco, including a hot dog."
"Hot dogs are not healthy," he reasoned. "They have tons of chemicals that I don't want in your body."
"True, but they are yummy to have now and again," I insisted. "You want me to be happy, right?"
"Well, you have a larger hot dog that you can eat," he said, making his segue into being naughty. "My hot dog is reusable and healthy. You can also put all the condom-ents on that you want."

He's punny that way.

G is for genius

When you spend a lot of time with someone, sometimes you end up using some of their mannerisms or word choices. I have done just that as of late.

I am a writer by trade. My guy likes to make up words. I have ended up using a number of his "fine" examples, although I do cringe now and again after doing so!

I tend to be the one who gives people nicknames. He has started to do the same, too.

We both work for a software company. We obviously work with a lot of software developers. My guy and I have studied computer science, with my guy ending up doing far more research than I have done in this field. He initially got hired at our company as a software developer, but moved into a different role and likes it much better.

My guy calls software developers geniuses. He is being sarcastic. There are certain developers who are anti-social and are difficult to deal with, because their time seems to be too precious to be bothered talking to you. This experience has generally been the case for my guy.

I have the opposite issue. I get along with the majority of these developers. I require their help to understand and complete my documentation.

I do understand that there are a few bad apples out there. As of late, I have had to deal with one developer who was on her high horse and was badgering me three times through e-mail about documenting her important features. She did not understand what I meant by "I will let you know when I have finished work on your feature." I managed to put her in her place by copying my manager in my response. She tried to pull some sort of power move by getting the project manager into the mix and trying to patch things up, when it was clear that she looked like an idiot. I replied by saying that my stance for the third time was the same -- I would let her know when I'm done writing the piece because our team is frankly swamped these days.

Anyway, this week has been no exception. The powers that be at our company decided to merge two products into one super product. As a result, the documentation for these two products needs to be combined in a week. There is a lot of work to do on top of the craziness that we have going on.

My boss came over to talk to me about this dilemma.

"Who was the genius who decided to merge these two products together, without giving much thought about the consequences under such short notice?" I asked him.
"A manager who is out of town."
"Figures," I said. "As if we don't have enough work to do already."

After I had used genius, I realized that I sound just like my guy. Who knew that this day would come?!

F is for feeling sore and happy

This post is a continuation of my evening last night with my guy. So, I managed to cleverly use the letter f for today's challenge. Go, me!

Towards the end of our dinner, my guy said something that upset me. He then wanted to sneak in a kiss and some affection downstairs in the restaurant. By that point, I wasn't in the mood for anything. I actually wanted to leave the restaurant and go home.

My guy can be indecisive at times, which was the source of my being upset. He walked me to my car. I got my hoodie from my car's trunk. I was putting my wallet and such in my car and had bent over. My guy helped himself to groping my butt. I would normally enjoy it, but I wasn't in any mood for that.

He helped me put on my hoodie, and proceeded to wrap his arms around my waist and hug me. He then moved his hands upwards and groped my breasts twice. He moved his right hand down to my backside, groping me and whispering that we should have some quality time in the treehouse. I wasn't in the mood. He insisted. I caved.

We drove to our usual parking lot less than two minutes away. We got into my car's backseat. Unfortunately, I had some things from my trunk that I had to move to the backseat a couple of weeks ago. I had purchased a used exercise glider and had to make room for it. My guy was impressed with how much room my car has.

My guy hugged me. He wanted to get me in the mood by feeling my bare leg and playing with my crotch. I moved his hand away. I cried. He knew that I wasn't interested and held me for a bit. He wiped away my tears by finding some tissue in my glove compartment. He can be sweet that way, especially when he first starts wiping them away from my face with his fingers.

He tried to make me feel better by tenderly kissing me. His indecision came crawling back again and I was an upset wreck once more. He apologized and admitted that it was his fault for making me feel confused and upset. He held me again.

I had forgotten that my resisting his moves to get me in the mood actually is a turn-on for him. He held my hand, squeezing it often.

"Do you want to be spanked?" he asked me.
"No," I said, which was true.
"I think that you need to be spanked. You have been a bad girl. I need to punish you. I am not leaving your car until you are over my lap and I have spanked you."
"You could be here all night," I said.
"If it takes that long, so be it," he said, groping my butt once again.
"You are persistent," I said, looking at him.
"I want you to be happy," he admitted. "Come over here."

He pulled me over his lap. I got to hug his right thigh, which was nice and muscular. He caressed my buttocks a bit and then gave me three fairly hard smacks across my grey pants.

He did something that always turns me on. Normally, he carefully unbuttons and unzips my pants, and then spanks me over my panties. When he truly want to spank me hard, he will pull down my pants and panties, without carefully unbuttoning and unzipping them.

My bare bottom was exposed. He landed several hard smacks. He then rapidly gave me many hard smacks after that, which hurt. I playfully called him Mr Meanie, and he continued the assault on my bare backside.

He then pleasured me. I came and was happier, especially with a warmed up bottom. He helped pull up my panties and pants, and then propped me up like a little rag doll.

I rested for a bit. My guy wanted me to play with him, but I wasn't quite ready. Instead, he held me in his arms for a bit. My right hand was resting close to his crotch. I could feel his member get harder. It was nice. My other hand was groping his right buttock.

I rubbed his hard cock that was still in his pants. He couldn't it take it anymore and let me jerk him off.

My right hand was under his bare butt. I loved it. My left hand was jerking him off. I eventually had to change hands, so my right hand took over the handjob and my left hand played with his balls. He came all over my hand, which was the result that we both wanted.

We cleaned up. We cuddled, which I always love and have missed. He agreed.

It was getting late. My guy and I had our goodnight kiss, which lasted for probably ten minutes.

"You are the best kisser, ever," he said to me.
"Likewise," I said, caressing his head and then kissing it.
"That was sweet."

He managed to make things better. I drove home with a sore backside. It was a nice end to the evening.

E is for evening out

I just got home. It has been a long day. Wednesdays tend to be that way.

This entry will be shorter than what I normally write, but I am still determined to get through this challenge.

I have a weekly teleconference at 07:30 every Wednesday. I had problems getting online and on the phone for this meeting. For some reason, my laptop did not want me to log in. I didn't forget my password. My laptop just wouldn't recognize my password that I use practically every day. Twenty minutes later, my laptop decided to stop playing games with me. I was fifteen minutes late, but at least I still managed to attend.

I worked quite a bit in the morning before I headed to the office. It is unfortunate that I work with two writers who fit the stereotype as being quiet and shy. They don't say anything until I initiate the conversation or just plain ask questions.

My guy told me that his flight would get into Toronto by 18:20. It was delayed by forty minutes. I changed venues from sitting at my cubicle doing work till 19:00, to moving to the training room. Sure enough, just before 20:00, my guy came walking in. It was good seeing him.

We talked for a bit. We were both hungry, so we headed to our usual Chinese restaurant for dinner.

Dinner was yummy. The conversation was good. It was nice to see him. It has been nearly two weeks.

We had quality time after dinner, but I will write about that tomorrow, provided that I can think of our time together that starts with the letter f.

D is for dildo

I used to blog daily years ago. Graduate school and life got in the way, so I stopped doing it for a while. The fact that I have blogged for several consecutive days is amazing. I have this fun challenge to thank!

Today's theme may seem like a cliché, but it isn't. Yes, I am going to write about my dildo.

When my guy first went to Amsterdam on business (he travels a lot), he wanted to get me a present. He actually got me quite a number of them. I got a stack of stroopwafel, which was yummy to a girl who craves waffles every now and then. He was also kind to get me slippers that are clog-shaped and have windmills on them. They are comfy.

My guy visited the red light district on this trip. It did nothing for him. I remember him coming back to his hotel and wanting to speak to me. He was disappointed being there on the whole, except for getting me my final gift from this trip.

He bought me a dildo. It is flesh-coloured. It is eight inches long. It looks real.

The problem? It stinks. It has this rubber smell that does and will not go away. I have had it for a year now.

For months, I have been trying to air it out, and soak it in various liquids and concoctions. It is still smelly. It is to the point where I can hold it in my hand for thirty seconds and can smell its rubbery odour on my hand for hours.

It is a shame. My guy meant well. I don't want to throw it out. I actually want to use it. He actually wants to use it on me, both conventionally and unconventionally.

Recently, my guy asked me whether he could spank me and tease me with it by rubbing the dildo's tip in various sensitive spots when we are being intimate. I have never heard of being spanked with a dildo. I think that I would need something less cylindrical and thick. I like my silicone paddle, for instance. The flat part of it does wonders. My backside stings after a number of whacks. It is also flexible, which isn't the same with a dildo.

So, right now, my dildo serves as a sundial. It gets to bask in the sun and I can tell time. More importantly, I don't have to deal with the smell indoors and I don't have to throw out a thoughtful gift.

C is for Cheap Bastard

I love Cookie Monster. I love how he devours cookies. He has beautiful, round eyes. He's blue. And, he always refers to himself as me.

I digress. Today's challenge isn't about my favourite Sesame Street character. It's something different. Today, C stands for Cheap Bastard. Why all this capitalization? I affectionately call my guy this nickname.

What? That doesn't sound endearing, you say to yourself. We laugh about it all the time. It is to the point where he now refers to himself in the third person.

It happened several months ago when my guy and I were talking on Skype. My guy was in San Francisco on business.

We tend to tease each other to no end. We both like to shop. My guy does a lot of research when it comes to getting deals on various items. When he finally buys an item at a terrific price, it is almost as if he is on some purchasing high. He is one happy guy for days.

Often, folks misinterpret my guy as being cheap when they hear about all the effort and analysis that he goes through to get such deals. I don't believe that he is cheap at all. He is frugal, but he does shop a lot. He likes refreshing his wardrobe. He buys a decent pair of glasses every two years. He showers me with gifts, even though he knows that he doesn't have to. He simply wants to.

Well, you can read up on the entire story, but my guy has often given me various goodies that he has brought from his hotel stays while on business. I get nice lip balms and hand creams, and I use them!

For some reason, he always feels that I don't appreciate these gifts -- that he is simply getting rid of his junk so that his computer bag will be lighter. Well, I called him a cheap bastard that day to see what he would say. As expected, he playfully threatened to spank me upon his return home.

Since then, we use Cheap Bastard often. When we are role-playing, I will use that term while over his knee. He will pull down my panties and spank me hard, asking me to take it back. I refuse, and will try and squirm, often using a free hand to cover my bottom, but he ends up moving my hand behind my back, restraining it, and spanking me some more until he feels that my punishment is sufficient. It's nice.

The other day, I told him that I had purchased a used exercise glider through Kijiji. He was so proud of me. He told me that I was following in his footsteps by getting a practically new glider "the Cheap Bastard way."

My guy is still in Croatia. He flies back home on Wednesday. I can't wait to see and be with him again.

We talked on Skype yesterday. We were chatting about cell phone screen protectors. My guy refuses to get a $25 screen protector for his cell phone. He flat out told me, "I would never get such an expensive screen protector. After all, I am Cheap Bastard."

It's sweet that he likes his nickname. We laugh all the time when we use it, whether I am paying for it in a spanking or when we're just chatting. Perhaps I should make him a cape with CB on it.

B is for bizarre business sign

It is day 2 of the Blogging Challenge - Spanking from A to Z. I had a post already in mind for today's theme that starts with the letter b. I have to put that on hold. I need to see if I can use another letter for that one.

Sunday tends to be my only day off in any week these days. Work is crazy, so I end up working a six-day week.

Well, I went out yesterday to run a few errands. I voted at an advanced poll in Ontario's provincial election. I grabbed a bit of lunch. I then drove to Staples to pick up an item that I had ordered.

I was stopped at this intersection in my city. There is construction going on at this major intersection, so cars need to either turn left or right. I am in the right turn lane. This sign caught my eye:

Um, okay. I am technically on Main Street. That's great news that the main ass is open. Who is the main ass? Are you talking to me?! Is my main ass available for multiple spankings and no one told me about it?

I also found it appropriate that there is a blue sign telling you where the local hospital is. I think the main ass will need some medical attention with the volume of traffic in the area. That main ass will be pretty sore.

B is for bizarre. Who says that my city is dull?!

A is for amazement

Today is the first day of Blogging Challenge - Spanking from A to Z. The idea is to blog 26 times about anything, whether it is spanking-related or not, but day 1 (today) starts with the first letter of the alphabet, second day with B, and so on.

I have chosen amazement as my theme. My guy uses that word often. What amazes him? My memory.

My guy thinks that I remember everything. The other day, he told me that he played soccer on the weekend with friends that he hasn't seen in a while. He confessed that he hadn't played soccer in years, but had a lot of fun.

I told him that I remembered a picture of him wearing baby blue shorts, and a light blue and white t-shirt. He looked athletic in that photo, even though he was about to paint a wall. I just had that image of him wearing something similar while playing soccer.

He told me that he could barely remember that photo. He had shown me that at least 1.5 years ago. We were in the treehouse, looking at all the photos on his phone after some intimate time together.

On Sunday, we were talking on Skype. He told me that he had to look up the address of where he was going the following day. He is on a business trip in Croatia for the next few days.

"Aren't you at the same place that you were last year?" I asked him.
"Yes," he said. "But, I don't have your memory where I have the address memorized or the contact's name."
"That was nine months ago," I said.
"Exactly," he replied. "For you, that was yesterday. For me, it was eons ago."

Although it may sound like my guy is annoyed with me, he actually appreciates the memory that I have. I remember terminal numbers at airports without consulting a piece of paper. He told me that I save him a lot of time when we travel.

"We need to go on another trip together," I hinted.
"Yes, I would love to have you as my travel companion."

Travelling is fun, especially with him. We create a ton of memories. We don't necessarily have to remember them. We always have photos and fun triggers that help us relive those moments.