Coming right up….October 2009!!

Happy Halloween,peeps.:)

Should I stay or should I go?????

When I was 15, Daddy took her across his knee, and, as promised, gave her the spanking

“]

Momma knew best! [Jennifer sketched, by Sam

Will continue here…soon!

Two…recap: just a few final paragraphs:

she agreed to….

…Now, I was finding myself, with Sam cuddled up next to me, drifting off to sleep. Falling.

Falling…asleep..

**

As a special edition…I’ve posted the PAULA PARKSTONE [Jennifer's Mother] STORIES…

Part One can be found at the LINK in “PAGES”

Enjoy!

Momma, in the photographs, was on all-fours, with her bare backside facing the viewer. The crack in her ass, split, revealing her open, puckering, asshole; both, round buttocks, were covered in gleaming, brown colored, mud. You could tell she was immersed in the kiddie pool–a trap, well laid, by my Mrs. Murphy & my father–from her bare toes, right on up to her full, nipple-raised chest..her breasts, dripping, in swishy soil.

Mr. Carpenter on one side, took the photos, clicking away. Mrs. Murphy, set the pool up in the backyard while daddy & mom were out to a movie. Momma sat through that movie with a burning bottom.

(She got a good sunburn, the afternoon before, after falling asleep in a chaise lounge. My 15 year old imagination, after discovering this town scandal, added to the truth a bit; however, momma DID expose herself, after doing the gardening, without her panties..

..[Yes..she laid on the chaise and unhooked her mini-skirt, and let it fall, turning over onto her tummy and her sandals hit the pavement and she pulled off her sweated tee-shirt..lying, now, nude, with her bottom raised..getting kissed by the afternoon Sun.])

The past. Sam was now staring at 1969…When I was 15, momma fessed up, and ended up receiving another good spanking–only, this time, in 1984, she’d feel daddy’s palm instead of the sun. My Momma, in order to explain her “naughtiness” to me, made the mistake of turning it into an object lesson..show and tell…presenting herself, as she did to Daddy, on the night of the kiddie pool. She scurried upstairs, and quickly took off her clothes.

When she returned, my momma, Paula Parkstone, was wearing a towel. Daddy and I were seated on the couch, just as he was in 1969. [They'd returned from the movie, and Momma went upstairs to take a cool bath (that sore bottom!)..In the meantime, Daddy took all of her clothes out of the bedroom, and placed a chaise lounge upon their Queen-Size bed. When she'd entered the bedroom, dripping from the bath...all she had was that beach towel..]

And, so this was what happened before she fell in the kiddie pool! (She admitted to me, sitting on pillow afterward,–

[after, she'd dropped the towel, and showed daddy and me her bottom...just as she did in '69..and, I reminded her of what she'd written in her own account I'd read..She promised daddy she'd never sunbathe in the nude again, or expose herself in front of anyone and if she did, daddy could turn her over his knee, and give "her fanny a good warming." Yes, at 15, I was a devilish sort, and knew, as soon as Momma dropped that towel, and twitched her way into the living room, and turned around, bending over, it would be up to me to mention her "promise" to daddy...which, I did]–

admitted, uncomfortably..with a spanked bottom, “fanny warmed,” that she’d intentionally stripped as she cut the branches back on a tree, exposing her bare bottom to Mr. Carpenter’s college age son (he was peeked at, by Mom, the night before, exercising, in his room..nude!)..she was lonely, with Dad working late in the City..she wanted to give the boy a show herself..

And, so, at 15 I got a glimpse at my Momma just as she was: confronting daddy with the red bottom, the sunburn, wet from the tub…dropping the towel, and saying, as she turned around

and shook her ass, “Guess you know all now, huh???”

**

My Daddy, in 1969, pulled from beneath the couch one of the discarded sandals momma had left in the backyard..he got up, grabbed her by the ear, and walked her, slowly, to the front door. On the way, he gave my momma’s red wet ass a few good smacks, center-cleave, before opening the front door. The hall-light was lit, as the door opened. The outside porch light was out…Momma stood, stark naked, on the threshold daddy had carried her over only two weeks before. With one good smack, he sent her onto the porch and closed the door, locking it behind her..turning on the outside light.

When I was 15, Daddy took her across his knee, and, as promised, gave her the spanking

she agreed to….

…Now, I was finding myself, with Sam cuddled up next to me, drifting off to sleep. Falling.

Falling…asleep..

(to be continued)

Just a bit of refresh:

“]

jenny gets a spanking [Oh, my!

Shaking the contents onto the quilted bedspread, the photos ~~all 4 of them!~~were revealed, once again; tracing back, in time, to a backyard in 1969; Long Island, New York; the muggy summer; and, the click-click of Mr. Carpenter’s Brownie Camera. Paula Parkstone, my mother, was exposed, once again..I’d forgotten, in five years, just how amazingly beautiful and naughty she was.

The photographs were taken in 1969. Tinged in yellow, they were unashamedly revealing and attention-getting for my dear Hubby. [The pictures you see in this Post are of me, and more recent~~yes, you'll see I haven't escaped unpunished for my tall tales!]

In any event, let me return to the bedroom. Snuggled up, against Sam, I looked from each photo to Sam’s reaction. He went from a short intake of breath, to a low whistle, shuffling through all four photos…then, gazing at each one, long and hard, shaking his head…

“Covered in mud, in a kiddie-pool!…amazing..so exposed!,” was all he could say.

We were a far cry from that Nude beach on our

Honeymoon.

Jennifer on The Beach;Cabo San Lucas (1989)

Momma knew best! Jennifer sketched, by Sam

“So,..Is it all true? I mean, did all this stuff really happen? Tell me,” Sam said, “it’s some adolescent fantasy, in words, and pictures. I don’t believe it. I know!: It’s Teenage Rebellion; it’s a total exhibition, and expression, of individuality, right?~~’Momma gets naked, caught, and spanked into orgasm, and YOU ARE THERE! Read all about it!’~~Come on, Jenny..tell me this is NOT a True Story.”

Jennifer on The Beach;Cabo San Lucas (1989)

“Well…What? Why are you looking at me that way?..of course, it true. Every word.”

**

By this time I’d kicked the fallen bath-towel, across the bedroom floor, and into the hallway, using the toes of one, bare foot, in order to do so; giving my bare butt a good shaking, all the while. Stark naked, I leaped, across the room, and fell onto my tummy, smack-dab, upon the quilted coverlet.

I snuggled close to Sam. Lazy thoughts, of Deja-vu, fluttered across my mind..

Wet, bare, skin.

I’m my mother’s daughter, am I not?

“You haven’t seen nothing yet, Sam.  Take a peek, at the other contents…there, on the night-table; the manila envelope..go ahead….

“…I don’t believe this,” Sam, repeated, “This stuff REALLY happened!?”

He just couldn’t picture it. My drawings~~(naughty, pencil sketches of my momma [blush*]) must have seemed to fantastical to be true…

“The camera doesn’t lie, hun,”  I replied, shifting my backside a bit; cocking my head at the evidence, lying in wait..the night-table, and the remaining contents of a manila envelope.

(Stay tuned..more to come. L8r)

o7/27/o8.

**

That Manila Envelope was now, calling out for Sam’s eyes. Further “proof”

He placed my “account,” (“15 Years Later”), across my two buttocks, open. I felt the cardboard cover, fall open, against the crack of my ass. Now, my yellow-colored, spiral notebook, was perched upon my raised ass as if it were a magazine rack.

Sam, turned away from from me now, and picked up the manila envelope. From this moment on, his focus would rest upon my mother….or, so I hoped…

**

Shaking the contents onto the quilted bedspread, the photos ~~all 4 of them!~~were revealed, once again; tracing back, in time, to a backyard in 1969; Long Island, New York; the muggy summer; and, the click-click of Mr. Carpenter’s Brownie Camera. Paula Parkstone, my mother, was exposed, once again..I’d forgotten, in five years, just how amazingly, beautiful and naughty, she was.

**

(more to come>>L8r)

When?

Okay, I’ll tell you. It was Friday night; last night, to be exact. It was the night he pulled out the yellow-colored notebook from my night-table, and read those words I’d written five years ago. A smile, sneaked, and turned up, the corners, of his mouth; his reaction exposed, by his full lips. He was reading, while shaking his head, in disbelief.

I knew he was shocked by what he was reading. Sam, ..dear Sam, was smiling, all the same.

Me? Where was little ole me? Well, I was standing in front of the open bedroom door, wrapped in a big, fluffy, bath towel; warm, and nude, I’d just got done lifting myself from the tub.

As I stood in the doorway, and watched him read, my mind flashed back to the young girl I once was: 15 years old,~~it didn’t seem that long ago!~~getting an eyeful of my mother and writing the “True Story,” all scribbled into that yellow notebook Sam now had propped upon his lap, lying in bed.

Quite frankly, I was speechless; however, also feeling quite naughty..naughty, enough, to side-step any blush of embarrassment, for myself, (..I knew I’d stretched the truth, in a very naughty way! ~~

~~Pornographically, so!) or, my mother (who, most certainly, bared her privates, in the backyard..unashamed, and for the eyes of her “young hunk,” of a neighbor.)

My husband, looked up from the notebook, and said, “Well, well, Jenny. You surely never told me this story.

It seems to me, dear-heart, you got your momma into some real hot water.”

In reply, I dropped my bath-towel to the floor. Nude, with bottom wet; both breasts, pert and glistening. Warm water, mixing with my own juices..my sex, dampened by such naughty visions, remembrances.

“Yeah,” I said, standing oh so provocatively, in my exposure now, “I guess I did.”

**

{TO BE CONTINUED…#TWO}>>>

** When? That’s the kind of question a Journalist would ask; along with, who-what-and-where, so I’ll start there…with, the “When” of it all.

Introduction:

Wait a sec…I have to get comfortable for this. Okay: I’m going to place the key-pad on the pillow, and stretch-out on my tummy.
Ahh, that’s better.

**

My name is Jenny Palmer. I’m married now; got married, two weeks ago. I never thought the day would come when I’d have to write an “appendix,” to “15 Years Later.” I mean, when I wrote it, I was 15 years old; and, its contents were an update of my mother’s experiences, along with what she’d presented to my eyes, (and, my father’s) in the form of nude exhibitionism. Five years ago, as I was writing, I never gave a thought to my words coming back to haunt me. All I did, at 15, was write what I witnessed, what happened. After that, I put the story in a file-folder, and tucked it away in a drawer.

**

If you were to see me now, what you’d see is a very naked lady, stretched-out on a brass bed, tapping the key-pad of an HP Pavilion, (knowing that the very red bottom she has; the very sore ani, and peri-area, she possesses at the very moment, is the just comeuppance~~The Consequences~~of her own brand of naked abandon.
**What you might be asking yourself is: “Come on, Jenny, just tell how it happened?”

Well, that’s why I’m writing: Mostly, to right a wrong; mostly, as punishment, for my “own lapse”..in truth-telling. The spanking I received was the end result of the lies I told. This “appendix,” then, is a Testament to my lapse in morals. I’m setting the story straight, for my husband, and for my mother; but, mostly, for me too~~after all, if it were not for those words I’d written 5 years ago; if it were not for my own pangs of wondering about what it’d be like, I would’ve never found out how naughtiness, always, ~~always, always~~gets found out, in the end. Believe me, I found out pretty quick, and it was all the result of my own forgetfulness.
**As simple as it sounds, I forgot it was Saturday Morning.

Read on, to find out, the truth..and, then some!
My ass is crimson. I deserved every spank of the palm; every, good smack, of the sandal,…

…just like Momma.