Dopey guy calls the helpdesk

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P is for pet and paddle

I recently got a betta fish as a pet. I last had a one a decade ago.

I was partially inspired to get a pet fish when I saw a beautiful Kickstarter project where the aquarium uses aquaponics to filter the water and even grow plants! It is a beautiful environment for my fish, who seemed so sad cooped up in a small see-through plastic container at the pet store.

Last Sunday, my friend and I went to the pet store. I picked out a male halfmoon betta. He is blue with a bit of red. He's pretty.

The aquarium system came with betta pellet food. I tried feeding it to my fish and he didn't want any of it. I was concerned that he didn't want to eat anything.

I then remembered that my first pet liked freeze-dried bloodworms. I went to my local pet store and bought a jar. I came back home, fed him one, and he loved it. He is a foodie!

I told my guy about my new pet fish. He's happy that I have a pet again. I have named him Bubbles, because he seems incredibly fascinated by the bubbles that he encounters on the water's surface. He also like making bubbles himself.

He reminds me of my guy, except that the latter likes blowing kisses at me from afar. Both are sweet fellas, though.

As for going down vacation memory lane, I had brought my leather paddle. I took it out of my suitcase one day with my guy standing next to me. He took it from me and gave my backside several hard swats. He laughed. He is truly my Mr. Meanie.

That's okay. I took the paddle back and gave him a couple of swats. It was my guy's first time with it. He didn't complain. He didn't whine. He didn't say that he didn't like it. He's doing well and continues to still be interested in being spanked.

Lunch, teasing, and holding hands

Last Monday, I stayed at work for the whole day, mainly to train a new writer. My boss had told me about this new hire late Friday night. That's right. Send me an e-mail the Friday before that Monday, late that evening when everyone has called it a week.

I don't normally check my work e-mail late on Friday night. I just happened to for some reason. Anyway, it's the usual way that things roll at work. Things are either last-minute, or aren't communicated or planned properly. I eventually make everyone look good, because I am that dependable.

Perhaps that is one reason why I crave being spanked. I am a good person. I am reliable. I need a diversion, which happens behind closed doors.

Anyway, my guy had told me on the weekend that he looked forward to seeing me all day on Monday. He came in late that morning. We talked a bit later, catching up on our weekends that we didn't know about. I asked if he wanted to have lunch at our favourite restaurant. He was game.

He drove us. We talked some more. My guy made me laugh by pointing out that a plastic glove that was sticking out of the glove compartment. He discreetly tucked it away. He tends to use this type of glove to finger me. We both couldn't help but to laugh some more.

As always, we had a decent chat while shovelling food into our systems. I could tell that my guy was starting to feel stressed out about work, so we tried to talk things through. It often helps me.

My guy offered his arm as we walked over a patch of snow outside. He's sweet. However, he thought that my tone of voice was sarcastic. I wasn't being sarcastic at all. I enjoyed us arm-in-arm. He held the passenger side door open for me to get into his car. He then closed his car door. He's a good guy.

He got in and teased me about a former colleague who was a jerk. He said that this jerk was my "ex-boyfriend." My guy then said that he liked that his car doesn't emit a warning alarm if his seatbelt isn't on. I teased him by saying that this alarm was to help him not get a $600 ticket again.

My guy swatted my hand. I protested and said that I should be hitting him for calling that jerk my ex-boyfriend. I held his hand, which was gloved. He took his glove off and we held hands all the way back to work.

As I have said before, it feels like we're high school sweethearts sometimes. I must admit that it's pretty nice to be dating a colleague, who has ended up being my dear friend, boyfriend, and lover.

Treehouse time and it's Wednesday again

Wednesdays seem to be treehouse days as of late. Frankly, I didn't think that this past Wednesday would be one of those occasions.

I got to work and my guy was at his desk, looking like he wanted to take a nap. He didn't notice that I had walked in until I said hi.

I asked how he was. He said that he was okay. To me, that response indicates that he's not as good as he could be. He admitted that he wasn't feeling his normal self. My guess was that he was at his desk. He has been on the road and in meetings as of late. All that activity has suddenly ended. He doesn't exactly know what to do with himself.

I did manage to lift his spirits. He had overheard a conversation that I was having with another writer. I was telling her how much I disliked how one user guide was written by a previous writer. It wasn't useful in that it didn't tell readers how to actually use our software product.

My guy felt the need to add his two cents, basically teasing me about my stance. He truly felt the same way as I did about the user guide, but he likes to see if he can get me worked up.

Somehow, we ended up talking about giving birth on an airplane. I managed to state that I could picture the husband or significant other trying to help with the baby's delivery, but feeling queasy. So, the oxygen masks would drop from the overhead bins, which cracked both of us up.

I decided to get up from my desk and head to the washroom. My guy followed suit.

"You're not following me, are you?" I asked him. I knew that my question was rhetorical.
"Not at all," he said. "It's purely coincidental."

We typically cut through the communal kitchen to head out to the elevators. The kitchen door closed. My guy groped my right buttock. I was turned on and caressed the back of his neck.

We went through the second set of doors. He groped me again. I was even more aroused.

"I don't know what to do now," I admitted, feeling like Jell-O.
"Well, we can fix that after work," he hinted, which meant quality time.
"I'd like that," I admitted. He smiled back at me.

My guy had swiped a box of East Indian sweets that was in the communal kitchen. They were left there by a fellow employee to celebrate the birth of his first child. My guy came up to my desk and offered me some goodies. He then passed them around to others.

He is sweet that way. He always offers these things to me first. The part-time (PT) writer, who annoys me these days, hasn't quite picked up on the fact that he finds her to be phoney and insincere. She proved it to him once again.

"Are you going to the Christmas party?" asked a colleague who was passing by our cubicle area and directed her question at my guy.
"I will be your date," PT yelled out, always overhearing every conversation in the area.
"I don't think that your husband would approve," my guy responded, which shut her down.

Frankly, PT is not exactly a sensitive, caring person. I wasn't annoyed that she had said what she had said. My guy is sweet and I am lucky to have him. However, it was inappropriate and my guy did a good job at telling her no in his own way.

My guy ended up offering home-buying advice to another colleague. I didn't want to interrupt their conversation, but I was ready to leave. So, I said goodnight to both of them and headed out the door. My guy started to pack up, so I knew that my subtle hint had got across just fine.

We drove to our usual spot and got into my guy's car. He helped me take my hoodie off.

"How are you?" he asked me, placing his right hand on my thigh.
"I'm good," I said.
"You're not just good," he pointed out. "You're sweet, sexy, attractive, and wonderful."
"I see that your smooth side is coming out."
"It's the truth," he stated and started kissing me.

As usual, we kissed a lot and often. He touched my left side, which made me giggle. I am a ticklish girl. We continued to kiss. He caressed my breasts. I touched his chest and arm.

He reached down toward the fly of my pants. He was trying to unbutton it, which made me giggle some more. He managed to pull down my pants and my black lacy panties.

He touched my tummy, which continued to make me giggle.

"I like that you're ticklish. It's sweet," he admitted, and kissed my tummy.

My guy fingered my clit. I was fully reclined in the backseat. I was relaxed.

"I have missed touching you," he said. It was my time of the month the last time we were in the treehouse.
"I have missed your touching me, too," I admitted. "I feel like a slut."
"Good," he agreed.
"I'm in the backseat being fingered by a cute guy."

Soon, he had another finger up my butthole. I was so turned in. It took me a few more minutes before I climaxed. I then rested in his arms, as limp as can be. He lightly swatted my bare left buttock. It was sweet.

I snapped out of it after a few moments. We kissed and hugged some more. I recall my guy saying something to me, which prompted me to automatically call him sweetie. He knows that I mean it when I call him by that nickname. I don't say it as often as I should. I do say that he is sweet all the time, though. I don't know why that is. However, we both know that I truly mean it when I use it.

I touched my guy's penis, which I confirmed to both of us that it was erect in his trousers. He undid his belt and trousers, and then slid his briefs down. I gave my guy a handjob. He fingered my butthole again.

"You do know that I have my entire middle finger up your ass?" he asked me rhetorically.
"Yes," I replied. "I like it when you fuck me all the way up my ass."

He came immediately. Moments later, I came. It was a nice moment.

Part two will continue in another post.

My guy is home - let the passion begin!

My guy is back in town. It was good to see him at work today. That is probably the understatement of the month. It has been a couple of weeks since I have seen him, which felt like months at times.

He looked at me for the longest time as we were talking. Well, I was doing quite a bit of talking. He blew me a kiss over our cubicle wall, which made me smile at him.

My guy came over to my desk a few times. I enjoy when he starts to rub the back of my neck, and moves his hand under my blouse, which then moves over to my right breast. His hand then plunged down my bra. He played with my nipple. I was stimulated. He then sat next to me and felt my bare leg.

His hand then moved down my back. I was showing him some pictures on my computer while he was sensually playing with me. A bit later, he reciprocated by showing me his pictures from St. Petersburg.

What is interesting about us is that we are pretty similar when it comes to picture-taking. We take pictures of food, feet, and hotel rooms, as examples. We have never discussed it. Today, we both noticed similar trends.

We have seen each other naked from head to toe. His feet were revealed to me last, as he tends to wear socks and shoes year-round, except when we were on vacation in Las Vegas. He also saw my feet last, although I tend to wear sandals and am comfortable with bare feet at home.

I enjoyed rubbing his calf while we were seated next to each other. I gave him a bit of an upper shoulder rub. I could tell that he liked my touching him.

He had taken a picture of a pretty dress while he was away for a couple of weeks. I was standing next to him by his computer. I like teasing him.

"Did you wear that dress?" I asked him. He playfully gestured hitting me. He swatted my backside, which made me smile.

He also took a picture of an elevator while in St. Petersburg.

"Too bad I wasn't there," I stated in a matter-of-fact tone. He nodded in agreement.

He then moved to decompressing some work-related files.

"There you go, unzipping, as always," I said playfully to him. He laughed.

We left work just after 18:00. We waited by the elevators. We talked. We deferred our treehouse time for another afternoon, as he had an appointment to get to tonight.

"I hope that the elevator is empty," he said slyly. Sadly, it wasn't.

We both got in the elevator, joining two other maintenance guys who were already there. The elevator was headed to the ground floor. My guy immediately pressed the basement-level button.

My guy reached out for my hand as the elevator continued with its descent. I couldn't resist rubbing his hand with my thumb in circles. He likes when I do that. It was the very first gestures that we did when we expressed interest in each other.

We got to the ground floor, where the maintenance guys left the elevator. I immediately closed the door by pressing the appropriate button.

"I have been waiting to do this for a long time," my guy said, holding me and planting a passionate kiss on my lips. I hugged him with my left hand, enjoyed reciprocating such a passionate kiss with my lips, and had my right hand on his toned chest.

We reached the basement floor. The elevator doors swung open. My guy stuck his head out to see if anyone was around. He then put his computer rolling bag in front of the doors.

He came over to me.

"I have missed you," he said, as we embraced tightly. He had a hard-on, which was pressed up against me. He groped my buttocks while we were hugging. We unlocked and he went back to passionately kissing me, until the elevator started to beep.

Our lips parted briefly. He moved his computer bag back in. The elevator doors closed. We kissed one final time before we hit the ground floor.

"That was nice," I said, as we both exited the elevator and walked slowly out, holding hands.

Spanking with SPAM

It has been quite some time. I've been pretty busy. I've been away on a conference in Minnesota for over a week now and have returned to Toronto. It's nice to be home.

I just had to visit the SPAM museum in Austin, MN, which is just over an hour's drive south of the Twin Cities. Look! I have a new spanking implement:

It was only a dollar! I've always wanted to be swatted by a swatter. Ha!

G and I get to try it out. I'll let you know how that goes soon.

Lovetaps and swats in the early years

Yep, I'm still talking about certain incidents that have made me the spanko I am today. It's really a culmination of various people when I was young giving me lovetaps on my backside.

I was a pretty good kid growing up. I suppose that to find something bad about me at school was difficult, so it led to these light swats from time to time.

I recall being in grade 2 and I had signed up for swimming lessons in the summer. My mom was interesting and got me a blue two-piece bikini. I wore it one day and had befriended a girl named Amanda. We were swimming laps in the pool, but doing the tag team routine. I recall finishing my lap and getting out of the water. Amanda, before going into the pool to swim her lap, would smack my bottom when I was getting out of the pool. She did this a number of times. Frankly, I didn't mind it. I can't recall if I actually returned the favour.

In grade 3, after morning recess, the librarian was in the stairway, making sure that all students made their way to their classes. She was an important part of my speech classes that I took the previous year (I was a grade level ahead in English, but needed speech classes, for I didn't speak English at home), so we knew each other. Well, I walked past her, said hi, and she swatted my bottom with her hand. I just remember the tap over my red raincoat.

I haven't really mentioned that I'm a switch. These days, I enjoy receiving spankings more than I do giving. When G and I were dating, he basically got more spankings from me than the reverse. I think part of this came during my elementary years.

One day, during the afternoon recess, when I was in grade 5, one of my friends was sitting on the shoulders of another friend. My third friend decided to give the friend way up high a spanking. I joined in. It was friendly and fun.

I think my interest in giving spanking was most prominent in grade 6. My best friend's birthday was December 6th. The day before, I gave her the bumps, which consisted of my kneeing each cheek of her backside six times. It was fairly popular at my school. I then gave her birthday spanking. I gave her twelve smacks, one to grow on, and pinched each cheek. This experience probably made me enjoy birthday spankings, both giving and receiving.

Even my grade 6 teacher got a loving birthday spanking from a couple of my peers. He was 38 years old that year. I didn't join in. Rather, I enjoyed watching it.

Back then, I wished my birthday wasn't in July. It would have been nice to have received a birthday spanking from my friends, when I could see them more often. These days, when it is my birthday, I can count on getting a lengthy birthday spanking. I can't complain one bit.