"Let's play house.  I'll be the mommy and you'll be the little kid," she said

I shrugged.  House wasn't my favorite game ever, I was more an outside kick the ball kind of kid, but it wasn't terrible either.

"And look at this mess," she said, gesturing around her parents' garage, a place we weren't even supposed to be.  "You've been very, very naughty."

My eyes widened at that and I felt a tingle in my lower back - excitement? fear?

"And you know what happens to naughty kids, right?"

I swallowed hard.  I thought I knew what this afternoon's entertainment was going to be when she first mentioned 'house' but now a whole new set of possibilities was unfolding before me.  And I liked it.

She took my hand and led me to the old worn out couch wedged between a supply closet a pile of old stuff.  Her parents' garage was used more for storage of stuff then sheltering of cars.

My breathing became shallow as she unzipped and pulled down my jeans, my chest tight.  She took down my underwear next, but they were a little tight and so ended up just below my bottom in a tight, pale blue roll.  Thus prepared, she pulled me over her lap and I went willingly.

I didn't go because I wanted a spanking, but because of the excitement of the forbidden.  We weren't even supposed to be in the garage let alone pulling each other's clothes off and smacking each other's bottoms.

For a little girl, she spanked hard.  Not as hard as daddy, but hard enough that I gasped and squirmed a little, but I didn't try to get away.  Soon, she had one arm firmly around my waist while the other rose and fell in delivering hard, quick spanks.  I squealed, a sound sweetened by the hand on bottom smacking.  Before long I was squeezing out tears, yelping with each smack, and wishing it would never end.

"What the hell is going on in here?"

My spanker screamed and jumped to her feet.  I ended upon the garage floor, my hot, red bottom in the air.  I looked up into the furious face of my playmate's mother and my fear stopped my heart.  But it wasn't me she was after.

My play mommy was talking fast and frantic, but her real mommy was having none of it.  I scrambled away from the couch, my shorts around my ankles, my underwear around my thighs, and watched as the girl who had just been spanking me with such authority was pulled, kicking and screaming, over the wide, authoritative hips of her mother.  From my vantage on the floor, I could see the black skirt was accompanied by black underwear.  The secret knowledge made my bottom sting all the more.

The girl's dress was pulled up and her underwear down (to just below her bottom) and then a bright red handprint was covering first one cheek, then the other.

I held my breath, listing to the cries and squeals that were as sweet as my own.