The Luck of The Irish

The Luck Of The Irish

By SC

That Friday at the mall I went out of my way to find Amanda. She was one of the cheerleaders performing at the mall thad day for St. Patrick's Day. There she was i front of me as I walked down main corridor of the mall leading down to Belk's with its electric blue neon sign. She wore her long light brown hair in a ponytail that made her look younger than her real age. The style was more juvenile and played into my fantasies. The newspaper advertising department proof and errands girl was wearing white-washed blue jeans with a visible panty line across her behind. The denim seat was, so tight it was like she was wearing her panties on the outside of her jeans. That's how I had been lucky enough to see sorority sister bent over in denim with white panties over their blue jeans. It had happened at a St. Patrick's Day party cookout where the burgers weren't the only thing flame grilled at the festive event.

Suddenly I came up behind Amanda dressed as a leprechaun including a face mask. I hustled the young lass with an arse that wouldn't quit into the Sun Do Go Cart was stored. It had Focus 250 on the hood. I had earlier watched the cheerleader perform a flip and land in place. I had enjoyed seeing her orange panty-clad ass just before her feet hit the VT logo filled floor. That sight was burned into my memory. It was usually on display in the mall. The office was serving as a garage for the green and yellow race car. I made sure my focus was on Amanda and her bottom at 2:50 PM. I pushed her down onto the table and got ready to cook her rump with my leather belt.

ZZZZZZ

Her friend who used to work in her position at the newspaper arranged for me to be in the closet of the cheerleader's mall locker room. She made sure Amanda would be alone when got to the off-limits area. There she was right in front of me. Amanda, the proof girl I sent around to client to approve my departments ads. I watched as Amanda vigorously rubbed her bottom through her blue jean-clad seat. Then to my exclaim i was delighted to see the bright red stripes that went up and down her still baby-fat fleshy bottom. That was my view from the crack in the closet door. A broom stick firmly up against my butt in the tight quarters. It was a festive feast for my eyes after she took her jeans and panties down with her back to me. The cheerleader sported some fine red stripes that were beginning to take on a purple hue.

Amanda couldn't believe she was getting the belt like she had admitted to me she had at home before for sneaking out at night. I used her panty line seams that stretched across her round butt to calculate where my belt should land on her baby-fat skinned butt. I took a moment to kick her feet further apart, widening my stance in the work room.

I watched with glee as this extended bent over position gave a provocative display of my delineated bottom.

What happened next is Amanda received a hard belt spanking used her visible panty line as a guide to strike her bottom with my leather belt. I could tell by her whimpers before I was done that my 'stripe attack' had stung her poor butt plenty before the deal was done.

an attractive lady now in her mid-thirties with light brown hair.

I really couldn't tell who's butt I was looking at from the back. However, I could determine it was the same bottom. Whether it was snow-white, red striped or crimson red, one thing was sure throughout the collection. It was most definitely the same rear. Apparently, an unladylike butt display caused by her visible panty line was the reason for the spanking because in the third slide Marty had her over his lap. Her well-worn blue jeans were down along with her white cotton panties.

The last scene on the disk there was a cheerleader before she put on her burgundy and gold trimmed uniform with the shoulder length light brown hair looked back at the camera lens and finally the mystery was solved as to the identity of the young lady currently on my screen. It was crystal clear who the girl who had participated in the hologram.

It was Amanda, The eighteen-year-old I had made a point of following behind her at the paper. Once in a while I would see the proof girl in well-worn tight blue jeans. I had long realized there seemed to be an unusual amount of wear in the seat. Many times, I enjoyed the show. I saw that denim-clad fetching derriere as she walked down the hall of the daily newspaper with the curves and the crack indention of her round bottom displayed for all to see in the hallway.

The next week at the newspaper It was fate that I found myself behind Amanda in line. It was the luck of the Irish after recently seeing the cherry red butt the belt had struck on a past St. Patrick's Day.

Amanda began to cry and sway her bottom back and forth by the twelfth and final stroke for the pretty cheerleader. I skedaddle out of the room still in full costume. I had pulled off the deal with Amanda none the wiser. I had the luck of the Irish!

My welcomed escape from a vanilla world began when my good buddy sadly passed away. It was way before his time. He always had called me his 'little buddy.' It was a reference to the first mate, Gilligan from the TV show, Gilligan's Island. One Friday afternoon after everyone else had cleared out for the weekend that he took me into his confidence. We had bonded over the semester sharing our Irish heritage. Plus, we both sold advertising at the same local newspaper.

Each lass had one particular fine asset. Each of the ladies was known for having a visible panty line across their bottom. That was the moment, I shared with him that I too was a lover of visible panty lines. Lasses that I fantasized about taking a paddle to their shapely bottoms. I remember, he smiled at me and told me a most remarkable story. That's when he told me about his hobby. One which I would best describe as a 'covert affair.'

My friend had advanced from fantasy to reality. My eyes popped open with interest as he explained that he had turned sexy photos into life-like holograms. He told me that the lasses squealed their complaint of the paddles pinch. That was the consensus that came from the cheerleader and others. However, they all had one thing in common. A stamp- on tattoo of a green shamrock above their reddened cheeks. He explained he paddled a different lass's ass each St. Patrick's Day. That last detail blew my mind.

zzxzzz

After his passing, I found out he had left me the executor of his estate. He left a letter where he said he was counting on his 'little buddy' to take care of things including his 'covert affair.' I alone knew just what that meant. I was handed a nesting egg painted with wide green and gold stripes all over its glossy surface. When I opened it had matching smaller eggs in its hull. It was a very large Russian Nesting Egg. It was made up of a series of eggs which fit inside each other.

Hidden in the hollow space of each of the series of nesting eggs the base was a disk from Memorex which nicely fit in the large base of the massive outer painted egg. It was filled with a stack of disc and a hologram reader. I wondered what was on the disks and why they were a secret?

zzzzzz

It was time to see what my friend had kept for decades secret and passed on to me. I was aware of the daring capricious nature of his hobby. I knew that he had enshrined ladies with visible panty lines stretched across their round bottoms in pictures back in school. Since we were both admirers of that particular part of the female body.

I booted up the eight-inch floppy disk by Memorex and got the surprise of a lifetime. I hadn't expected to see on my screen spanking that intensified in in its nature. He had taken our shared 'fanny fascination' to an art form.

ZZZZZZ

It began with a light brown- haired girl sitting in a recliner at her home. The seventeen-year-old was wearing a short green checked dress. The hem had risen up her tanned legs giving a brief look at her yellow panties because her legs were slightly open at the moment. Marty's camera lens shot the scene from across the hall. His used his professional light meter light to clearly capture the unsuspecting subject. It was a modern piece of art. At the time I thought that was far as it had ever gone. However, now as I looked through the next few slides, he had turned our fantasy talk about 'bad panty manners into the action of a real spanking.

In theory we had discussed spanking the woman in the slide for her unladylike way she had sat on the conference room table upfront at the newspaper. Our shared thoughts had somehow become a reality. There was a slide of a young lady with shoulder length light brown hair bent over a teacher's desk with her St. Patrick's Day green and white checked dress up which clearly showed a glowing red bottom that matched her dress. Going through the remaining slides. My eyes bugged out and my hands shook as I studied the color slides which showed that her panty area had been pulled into her butt crack. There were wide blotchy red stripes across her bottom from a vigorous spanking from my friend's leather belt.

I booted up my old Commodore Computer and put in the found hidden Memorex floppy disk. I advanced the JPEG filled disk to the next slide. It was quite different from the others. That was the start to a series of photos on slides of an attractive lady now in her mid-thirties with light brown hair.

I really couldn't tell who's butt I was looking at from the back. However, I could determine it was the same bottom. Whether it was snow-white, red striped or crimson red, one thing was sure throughout the collection. It was most definitely the same rear. Apparently, an unladylike butt display caused by her visible panty line was the reason for the spanking because in the third slide Marty had her over his lap. Her well-worn blue jeans were down along with her white cotton panties.

The last scene on the disk there was a cheerleader before she put on her burgundy and gold trimmed uniform with the shoulder length light brown hair looked back at the camera lens and finally the mystery was solved as to the identity of the young lady currently on my screen. It was crystal clear who the girl who had participated in the hologram.

It was Amanda, The eighteen-year-old I had made a point of following behind her at the paper. Once in a while I would see the proof girl in well-worn tight blue jeans. I had long realized there seemed to be an unusual amount of wear in the seat. Many times, I enjoyed the show. I saw that denim-clad fetching derriere as she walked down the hall of the daily newspaper with the curves and the crack indention of her round bottom displayed for all to see in the hallway.

The next week at the newspaper It was fate that I found myself behind Amanda in line. It was the luck of the Irish after recently seeing the cherry red butt the belt had struck on a past St. Patrick's Day.