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Story: Rock and Roll
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Joined: 06 Jul 2006
Posts: 2
Location: USA

PostPosted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 7:06 pm    Post subject: Story: Rock and Roll Reply with quote

“Are you going to be ready on time?” The tone of Curt’s voice through the telephone made his question sound more like a command.

“Yes, of course. What time is the concert?”

“It’s eight o’clock, but we planned to get some dinner first. Remember?”

“Oh yeah.” In fact, Jen didn’t remember, but she chose not to admit that.

“I’ll pick you at six sharp. Be ready, OK?” Again, his question was posed more as an instruction.


After exchanging goodbyes, Jen hung up the phone. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. It read 4:37PM. She decided she could nap for a half hour and still have plenty of time to shower, dress, and prepare for the concert. Her pillow was cool and the covers were warm. Almost instantly, she drifted off.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Jen awoke to the jarring rap of an insistent knock upon her front door. She gasped as her head spun around to see that the clock now read 6:03PM. How could she have overslept? What would she tell Curt? What would he do?

Bang! Bang! Bang! Now energized by shock and dread, she sprang from the bed and headed toward the source of the pounding. She desperately sought to reach the door before he began to pound again.

Jen unlocked the door and quickly pulled it open. There stood her man. Curt looked sexy and handsome. Wearing blue jeans, black boots, a wide leather belt, and a black Mustangs tour shirt, he was dressed for a rock and roll night on the town. A grinning face would have finished the scene, but Curt was clearly not smiling.

“I thought we agreed that you would be ready at six.”

At that moment, Jen felt rather self-conscious in her robe. She invited him in as she fumbled for a proper alibi.

“I, but. I’m not… Let me get ready really quickly.”

Curt said not another word. He just stared at her. Jen interpreted his silence as acknowledgement and zipped to her bedroom. She was tossing one set of clothes even as she was pulling on a second outfit. Her thoughts were no less chaotic. “He’s going to spank me,” she guessed. “I suppose I deserve a spanking, but it’s really not fair.” Her worries intensified as she brushed her hair and applied makeup. When she decided that her look was right for a rock concert, she literally ran back out into the living room.

Curt was seated in the middle of the couch. He hadn’t turned on the television. Nor had he grabbed a magazine from the coffee table. He was simply waiting, and he didn’t appear particularly patient. Upon seeing Jen, Curt arose from the couch and started for the door.

“Hold on, honey.” Jen pleaded. “I have to get my purse.” Looking more annoyed than ever, Curt stood by the door. After a couple of minutes of sorting through the contents of her purse, Jen finally declared herself ready to go. Silently, the pair strode down the driveway and climbed into Curt’s truck parked by the curb.

After about ten minutes of driving, Curt said, “We haven’t time to eat at Hastings’ as I had planned, but I know a diner that is on the way to the arena.” Jen felt bad that she had ruined their dinner plans. She started to apologize, but Curt shot her a look that said, “Don’t bother.” She truly hoped the evening could be somehow salvaged.

The diner was adequate. The food proved to be pedestrian, but the waitress was swift, attentive, and pleasant. As Curt paid the check, he glanced at his watch. It was now seven thirty. He grimaced, pocketed his change, and headed for the truck. Jen hurried to keep pace.

As they approached the arena, it became clear that most of the nearby parking lots were full. Eventually, Curt found an open lot, but it was six blocks from their destination. By the time they reached the arena, it was already quarter after eight. The couple passed through the security checkpoint and the arena gates without exchanging a word.

As the show began, Curt led Jen by the hand down onto the floor of the arena. Their seats were in row M in the front of the stage. The music was loud, the crowd was chaotic, and the flashing lights were disorienting. As a result, two songs were complete when they reached their seats.

The Mustangs began the show with several of their most popular songs and the appreciative crowd cheered enthusiastically. Jen discovered that her seat was a flimsy vinyl and aluminum folding chair. No one she could see was actually sitting however. Everyone was standing and many actually stood on top of their rickety chairs. She couldn’t see the band or anything else from behind the tall people standing in front. She considered standing on the chair, but that looked very unsafe.

Curt, being a full foot taller than his partner had no trouble seeing and enjoying the show. Any disappointment about missing part of the show appeared to disappear as he clapped along with the beat. Jen suddenly felt claustrophobic and alone within this ocean of humanity. She snuggled up against Curt in hopes of gaining his protection.

Curt instinctively pulled her close. Jen’s head nestled against his strong chest. Perhaps, she thought, all was now forgiven. That notion, however, was quickly dispelled. Curt’s left arm encircled her back while his right hand began a rhythmic assault on her bottom. Jen simply didn’t know what to think. He was actually giving her a real spanking in the midst of 20,000 people! Stranger still, no one appeared to notice.

Thanks to the amplified sounds of the band, even the participants couldn’t hear the sounds generated as Curt’s hard palm repeatedly impacted against the seat of Jen’s jeans. Jen was no stranger to spankings. In the eighteen months she had been dating Curt, he had spanked her several dozen times. In fact, he even kept a paddle at her house for those occasions when stronger persuasion was required. This time, though, no implement was needed. This simple hand spanking went on and on in time with the blaring music. After she overcame her initial dismay, she began to become increasingly enamored with the growing heat emanating from her posterior. The sheer brazenness of the act spoke to her secret, long-repressed exhibitionist fantasies.

As the concert continued, so did the spanking. Once, Jen thought she heard someone nearby say something that sounded like, “what a cool chick!” Maybe they noticed, she thought, and maybe they didn’t. It was dark in the arena, except for the lights surrounding the stage. It’s possible, even in this roiling soup of bouncing bodies, that their spanking was inconspicuous.

When the concert was over, the tired but satisfied crowd filed out of the sports pavilion. At Curt’s insistence, he and Jen stayed behind. Within ten minutes, the arena was empty, except for security guards, ushers, cleaning crews, and roadies. Curt sat in his seat for the first time all evening. He gestured to Jen to join him. She took a step back and said “Not here!” His strong arm reached out, grabbed her forearm, and forcefully placed her on his lap. To Jen’s surprise, she was not bent across his legs in preparation for a second spanking. She was instead sitting upright as he held her tightly in his arms.

“I hope you learned a lesson tonight.”

“Don’t be late?”

“Yeah, that’s the lesson.”

“Do you know what else I learned?”

“What’s that?”

“I learned that no one gives better spankings than you. I can’t even describe how completely turned on I am right now.”

“Do we need to do something about that?”

“Uh huh.”

The lovers stood up and departed the sports arena hand in hand. What began as an evening doused with anger and frustration concluded as a night awash with passion and desire. They would long remember the spanking they once shared with 20,000 of their closest friends.
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