It's funny how easily your life can change. How one minute your mind is crammed with ideas or thoughts about who you are, what you plan to be, what you might hope to have happen. For me my life changed the night I dated a boy from college. He and I were in the same second year English Composition class and while he was just an average guy, he seemed nice and I accepted.
My name is Jennifer, but everyone calls me Jenny. That was another one of those thoughts that used to pass through my brain I really wanted to be a Jennifer. I was just average too, so please don't think I was being egotistic in my description of my date that night. Jason was, at five ten and one hundred and sixty pounds, in decent but not athletic shape, he had mousy brown hair and eyes to match. I am 5 foot four with long brown curly hair, I weighed only one hundred and fifteen pounds and while nicely shaped I had below average breasts, and just enough in my rump to know it was there.
Dates for me were sporadic and few. It wasn't that I didn't like guys just the guys I liked always liked someone else. Jason was a guy who I found likeable at least enough for one date anyway. He took me to dinner, nothing fancy or expensive and while I freshened up (girl talk for making sure nothing was sticking between my teeth) in the ladies room I decided that Jason was a decent guy. I used my hands to push my curls and believe I'd straightened them, decided my lipstick and make-up were in reasonable shape then washed my hands and met Jason by the door.
"Jenny would you like to come by my place for a little wine?"
Jason asked as he opened the passenger door of his car. I hadn't gone that far in my thoughts about him, but a glass of wine sounded good so I said sure. His place was small, about what you'd expect for a sophomore in college but it was clean and neat, especially for a guy's place. He handed me a glass of wine and I took a sip. It was terrible, really cheap red wine but I smiled and then we talked.
We talked about school and our lives and some of the things I mentioned earlier about dreams and plans for life. Jason's plans were a lot like my own, good job, family, house, kids etc. We'd managed to polish off a little more then a bottle of wine when Jason's hands started to move. Before I knew it his hands were pulling me towards him, his mouth pressing down on my lips. His hands seeking out my pert but small breasts, his leg trying to split mine apart. Whoa!
Pushing him away I said.
"Jason! No! I'm not into this right now."
He stopped, or at least it seemed like he stopped but if he did it wasn't for long and once again I was forced to deal with his quick hands. I roughly pushed him off the couch (I mentioned he wasn't very athletic) and told him to back off and started to leave. I was a bit wobbly on my feet, a bit drunk from all the wine and when he grabbed at my shoulder and turned me back towards him, I freaked out and kneed him in the "jewels". As he bent over in pain I took the left over wine and poured the rest of it over his head and kicked his legs out from under him (yeah I had a little training). Moaning in agony, lying in a pool of red wine I left him, slamming the door with the words.
"Don't even think about talking to me again, ever!"
On the street I realized I was too drunk to drive, but since I had no car it didn't matter. Drunk but not stupid, I knew where I was and how to get home. Walking wasn't probably smart, but it worked and soon I was opening the front door of my parent's house (yes I still lived at home). I stumbled into the living room, too late seeing my parents on the couch, the TV on and looks that could kill glaring at me. Being drunk allows us to ignore the obvious, that my parents were pissed, and I plopped on the couch next to my Mom. I laid my head back and the room started to spin and I heaved up that cheap red wine into the almost empty bowl of popcorn my folks were eating.
"Damn it, your drunk!"
I heard someone say.
"You're also late."
Was something else I remembered hearing. My head was still spinning but the queasiness had gone and I was just pleasantly drunk. I started to laugh, you know how it is when your drunk.
"You think this is funny? I think you need a lesson."
Was that Mom or Dad talking? I guess it was Dad because before I knew what was happening I was lying across his lap, my pants and more importantly my panties were down to my knees and pain was spreading across my butt cheeks. I was getting spanked! Wow, my alcohol clouded mind, said as my Dad's big hand impaled my backside over and over again. This had not happened since I was six and painted my Mom's car with left over house paint. The pain was starting to sober me up and I screamed.
"Daddy! No! Stop please."
I was sober enough to hear Mom say.
"Make sure she remembers this Dear! Don't be easy, leave an impression, I don't want my little girl to think it's a good thing to get drunk and come home late."
I began to sob as my Dad followed Mom's instructions and I felt like I was being spanked forever. At some point the pain stopped but not my tears. I think I was more ashamed of my Dad seeing my naked butt then I was about coming home drunk. At some point I must have passed out because the next thing I remember was rolling over on my back and feeling the pain in my butt. Then I felt the pain in my head and remembered the cheap red wine, Jason's fast hands and my Dad's even faster hands. I put my head back and rolled on my stomach to ease the pain in both locations. For a reason I did not understand, my hands slid under me and found my vagina. I was masturbating for a few minutes before I even realized what I was doing. By the time I did realize, I was too far into it to stop, it felt good and I needed at least one thing to feel good this morning. I knew I'd have to deal with the hangover and face my parents. So I merely continued to fuck myself to orgasm. At least I thought it was an orgasm. I was still a virgin at the time so all I really knew was what I did to myself. I'd soon learn it wasn't much of an orgasm but at the time it felt good.
When I managed to get out of my bed I realized I was in my nightgown and could not recall how that had happened. Actually I recalled very little of anything since my Dad's hand was slapping my ass cheeks. I stumbled to my bathroom and after looking at myself (not a pretty site) then peeing and brushing my teeth, I half turned and lifted the back of my nightgown to see my backside. I was wearing panties, sticky wet panties and I could see nothing but deep red imprints sticking out from under those wet panties. I lightly touched a spot and jumped at the pain. Wow, Dad was really pissed. I recalled then hearing Mom telling him to make and impression and I saw that Dad did as she's asked.
I went to the kitchen in search of Tylenol or something and saw my Mom standing by the cabinet where my family keeps the pain meds. She smiled at me and pointed to a chair then said.
"Sit down Jennifer!"
Oh no, Jennifer, the name I liked was only used when I was in trouble. I guess Mom was still pissed at me, so I sat meekly, squealing a bit when my well-spanked butt met the hard wooden chair. Mom came over with the pain pills and a glass of orange juice. I scoffed up the pills and washed them down with the cold juice. My stomach rebelled a bit at the evil juice dropping in so quickly but I calmed it and then looked at Mom, she was smiling, beaming you might say. I was confused.
"Mom? What's so amusing?"
"I think I am enjoying your hangover Jennifer and something else as well. I might even thank you if I thought I wouldn't undermine the discipline you were given last night! You do remember that Jennifer. Don't you?"
