LSF Publications: spanking fiction ebooks

Beth lay curled up on the bed, flicking the pages of the book. She scanned the introduction.

"Is your love life getting stale? Is it the same old routine? Well it's time to spice things up before it's too late!"

Yes, she could definitely do with some spice. Same old routine was EXACTLY what she had - there used to be wild monkey sex in every room of the house just after they married, then all too soon it became 'Don't wake the baby', then years with toddlers sharing their bed after almost nightly bad dreams (How on earth did they manage to conceive the second and third kids? Osmosis?) Then a long, calmer time when all they had was a quick snuggle on Friday night.

"Did things just seem to slip away from you? Has the interest gone?"

And now the kids were grown and gone. Three months ago they waved their youngest off to college, and finally the house was their own again. And now that they had time, and enough places, and more than enough privacy (and sturdy furniture)... somehow they just didn't have the urge any more. What happened to the wild games, the inventive fun, the wonderful shivery Dom voice, the lovely hot spankings, and above all the totally intense sex? A few light smacks to her well-padded rear, a quick bonk and then he was snoring.

"It's time to take control! Get the interest back!"

Beth nodded. Interest, spice, fun - that's what they needed. She turned to Chapter 1 - "Find your lost passion - rekindle the flames."

Saturday, a great day for fun - and Mark was playing golf. Why wasn't he playing with HER?

She read on, carefully, then made a list:

Red nail polish Map Binoculars (might need to track him on the course) Perfume Legs waxed...

Fine. Passion. Rekindling. Beth was going to rekindle.

---oOo---
Mark frowned as the ball rose in the air, then moved in a graceful curve towards the greenery at the side of the fairway. He sighed as he trudged towards the spot where the ball disappeared. Now that the kids were off their hands he'd have time to work on his slice, and his handicap. Might knock off a few strokes by Christmas. It was good to have an interest, especially as you entered the more settled part of your life.

He pushed through the bushes, peering around, and then he saw it.

The foot.

A woman's foot, bare, with red toenail polish.

He froze, sick at the thought of a dead body being hidden on his favourite golf course.

The toes wiggled. His eyes tracked up the leg, to the very female form that lay half-turned away from him. The bare female form. He took a step back, "I'm sorry miss... madam... I ... er... I'll just play through."

"Can't you play with me?"

He froze. He knew that voice. "Beth? What are you doing here? You're not a member!"