Welcome to another addition of Saturday spanks! This week I have another excerpt from my book "Sir, Yes Sir". In this excerpt, Dean and Shelby have a very important discussion to have with their son about their growing family. Enjoy!
“I seem to recall you telling me that your dad was just as pleased with you as you are with
Morgan right now. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Watch it, Woman,” he growled. “You’re carrying my apple seed as we speak.”
I tossed my head back, sending my dark, wavy locks flying. “Apple seed? Really, Dean, you can do better than that.”
“Well, it’s my seed, I got that part right.”
“My point is, we’ve all done things to drive our parents crazy. You were Morgan’s age once, and you did the same things.”
“No way! I learned useful things with those guys. Hell, I can still recite the first Jodie I ever learned.”
“Don’t,” I moaned, but I was too late. Dean was already singing.
“If I die in the Spanish Moors, bury me deep with a case of Coors! If I die in Korean mud, bury me deep with a case of Bud! If I die in a firefight--”
“Enough!” I protested. “You’ve made your point. Now go talk to your son!”
“Are you sure we can’t just send him a bouquet of balloons with baby bottles on them? Or better yet, say it with flowers?” I shot him a frigid look, but he just laughed. “All right, let’s talk to him together,” he countered. “Doing this without you was my first mistake.”
Morgan right now. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Watch it, Woman,” he growled. “You’re carrying my apple seed as we speak.”
I tossed my head back, sending my dark, wavy locks flying. “Apple seed? Really, Dean, you can do better than that.”
“Well, it’s my seed, I got that part right.”
“My point is, we’ve all done things to drive our parents crazy. You were Morgan’s age once, and you did the same things.”
“No way! I learned useful things with those guys. Hell, I can still recite the first Jodie I ever learned.”
“Don’t,” I moaned, but I was too late. Dean was already singing.
“If I die in the Spanish Moors, bury me deep with a case of Coors! If I die in Korean mud, bury me deep with a case of Bud! If I die in a firefight--”
“Enough!” I protested. “You’ve made your point. Now go talk to your son!”
“Are you sure we can’t just send him a bouquet of balloons with baby bottles on them? Or better yet, say it with flowers?” I shot him a frigid look, but he just laughed. “All right, let’s talk to him together,” he countered. “Doing this without you was my first mistake.”
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