July 1997
s m u g
bumping uglies
by Todd Levin


Spank My Wife - Please!

Spank Me!

Last week, over a very nice dinner, a man asked me to spank his wife. Needless to say, I was so completely taken aback by this question that I nearly choked on my jumbo sloppy joe. Worse than the shock of this complete stranger's request was the unexplained fact this was not the first time this has ever happened to me. But I was determined to make it clear that this would be the last time. I attacked: "Just who do you think I am that I would honor a completely twisted request like that? Sir, you don't even know me. All you know about me is that I'm some guy who happened to answer your personal ad in the Spouse Spankers Swingers Classifieds for 'an evening of dinner and iron-fisted spousal domination' with you and your wife. And I happened to bring my own set of adult discipline toys. And maybe over our hors d'oeuvres I just happened to promise your wife the biggest, reddest ass-paddling of her life. Well, I'll tell you for sure this is the absolute last time I put myself in a potentially awkward situation like this, sir. I assure you of that. I want you to kindly pull your wife out of that adult-sized litter box right now and begin to show me the respect I deserve. And then I'd like you to kindly show me the door!!"

Unfortunately, judging by his puzzled expression, I don't think he was able to comprehend what I was saying to him, as my words were possibly muffled through the thick, leather executioner's hood I was wearing over my head. Which was OK because, after I climbed down from my soapbox and finished the last bits of sloppy joe on my plate, I decided not to make the evening a total wash. After all, the couple had prepared a wonderful meal and I didn't want to leave on a completely bad note, so I agreed to consider the spanking. However, I warned, she would have to prove that she had done something bad enough to really warrant a spanking.


Just let me take this moment to say that I really don't get the whole adult spanking phenomenon that seems to be sweeping the nation with more momentum than any other sexually deviant craze of recent years. I haven't seen this kind of enthusiasm for what is essentially laughable behavior since the Unsolicited Public Boner Movement of '73 or the Inappropriately Fastened Fishing Lure fad of '88. To me, spanking is funnier than it is fun. Kind of like eating at Bennigans.

I had a girlfriend (to protect her name, let's just call her My Mom) whose last boyfriend was really into spanking. I was baffled. As a means of explaining away her ex's sociopathic behavior, My Mom encouraged me to give her a quick spanking one night. I tried it, but found it really boring. Besides, after about my 42nd swat at her ass, my hand was becoming cramped and neither of us were getting a bit turned on. I did, however, get her to confess to and apologize for shoplifting a pack of spearmint Hubba Bubba when she was nine years old. Ultimately, I think the session was therapeutic, in spite of the spanking.

Everyone wants to be spanked except me. I was the recipient of a lap-dance several minutes before writing this sentence (I try to stay on the scene) and I was kind of getting into the whole affair, until the dancer pulled one of those self-spanking moves (you know what I mean? the whole, "look at my little peeky-hole and watch me slap it quickly and hypnotically"). Hold the phone! What is that? What kind of message is that getting out on the streets? I honestly said, "please, for the love of god, don't ever do that again as long as you live" and then passed out (turns out my sweatsuit cuffs and waistband were cutting off blood circulation to my head and my fainting spell had nothing really to do with the spanking episode). The whole sensory experience for me was less like a sexual awakening and more like the sound of someone making a really loud baloney sandwich.


Back to our eager Spanking Enthusiasts: In an effort to put perspective on their sexual freakiness, I remembered something I read from a dissertation on sociopathic behavior which said it is important to maintain perspective when dealing with erratic characters and to understand the parameters of their own mental universe before casting judgment.* And, looking over at the husband, who was wearing a poodle skirt, saddle shoes, and trashy blue eye shadow while gnawing enthusiastically on a discarded Dr. Scholl's medicated insole, I realized a private urge for a little light assplay was probably the least of their problems.

*Oh, wait. This is embarrassing, but I just remembered something. I hadn't read all of that sociopathic behavior blah blah blah in a dissertation at all. It was in an issue of DC Comics' Swamp Thing. I hope that didn't negatively affect my credibility.


So I began grilling them. "What have you done lately that was really, really bad?" The wife, whom I will refer to from know on as Edna (simply because Edna is the name of a kind, elderly woman I once spanked mercilessly as her husband watched in complete rapture), gave it some serious consideration and the best she could come up with was "I ate some grapes at the supermarket and, even though they were delicious and ripe, I pretended I didn't like them so I wouldn't have to pay for them." Now, if I were a produce manager, I might have been able to see a little paddling as just punishment. But, truth be told, if produce sampling were truly a crime I would be implicating others in the sleazeball plea bargain of the century to avoid a sentence at Rikers, instead of standing over a wealthy, middle-aged married couple with a sandpaper-wrapped fraternity paddle. I consider myself very lucky in this respect.

I had to break it to Edna, who was purring anxiously as her husband, whom I will refer to from now on as Edna (simply because I can't really think of a cool name for her husband and I have to have this piece finished in about 20 minutes or I will receive an unsolicited beating from my otherwise kindly editor), was practically losing his lumpy, bald pate, driven by the single desire to see his wife of 27 years get spanked like an eight-year old playing hooky, that I simply didn't think this punishment fit the crime. Instead, I offered a consolation, really the only thing I thought was fair given the information I had. I timed-out Edna for fifteen minutes in the bathroom and told her that she had to seriously think about what she had done and would have to talk about it honestly and like a big girl when her fifteen minutes were up. As for Edna, I couldn't stand to see him so consumed by his own lascivious longing, so I beat him with the rough side of my paddle like a worthless cur (incidentally, if there are any aspiring post-punk musicians reading this, I highly recommend the name "Worthless Cur" should you ever decide to channel your love for drunken, displaced punk music into a serious musical endeavor and form a band. Consider it a freebie, but you owe my wife a spanking.)

Spank Me!
© 1997 Mark Zingarelli - see it big

I must say, all in all, the evening was for naught. As I said, dinner was wonderful. The foie gras with sliced franks was the best I'd had in months. And, although I never did get around to spanking Edna (although I did give Edna the spanking of his life), I did manage to relieve Ednas of a good deal of their material possessions while Edna was locked in the bathroom and Edna was passed out on his kitchen floor, skirt up over his head, blissfully unconscious from our little session. Though I have no idea what I'm going to do with this oversized litter box, it certainly was a unique souvenir from an evening that, lately, was becoming less and less unique in my life.

I have learned something from all of this. First, I try not to answer ads in magazines like Spouse Spankers... anymore (my free subscription ran out months ago anyway, and though I will miss the free dinners and, to some extent, the spankings, I will most certainly not miss the small talk). In addition, I stopped hanging out in Spankers Only clubs, quit my job at Le Spanque Adult Video Boutique, dropped out of my Erotic Spanking Paddle Woodshop adult education class, and even spent the better part of last Saturday scraping my "Honk Twice If You Like Having Your Wife's Ass Spanked By Strangers" bumper sticker off my Brat sport truck. Some lessons you learn the hard way. Oh, and to that nice man (I think his name was Edna) at the Renaissance Fair who asked me to "smite the bare bodkin" of his wife, regrettably, I'm going to have to pass. I don't want to give out any more mixed signals. I'm trying to kick the habit. Does that turn you on?




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