Twenty years ago this month is the first time I did anything involving spanking/impact play. It is an experience I hadn't thought about in a while but was reminiscing about it today.
I was 23 and living with friends, freshly dumped by my now long-distance ex-GF (who I was crazy for), and working retail after graduation and not having any idea of what to do with my life.
In high school and college, AOL chat rooms and the men that frequented them made sure I had no shortage of alternative outlets when needed. What I'd never experienced was a guy actually picking me up "in real life" so to speak. I'd known I was bi since I was young, when my sexual fantasies were always split 50-50 between my female classmates and my friends' fathers. It became obvious as time went by that no amount of "experimentation" was going to make me fully straight. I loved women but I also really loved sex with men, and I was good at it, too. But I also was always concerned about exposure or being outed. I passed up or missed many experiences because of this, which I'll always regret.
One day at work when I was a store manager, a co-worker was joking around and said something along the lines of "I'd fuck you for a bunch of extra smoke breaks today" but it was very much a joke. I told her that was not necessary and to go take one, and she did. I didn't realize a customer was in the store and had heard. He bought a couple items and as I rung him up, he said, "I heard that exchange with your co-worker, and I have to tell you, if you don't want to fuck her, then maybe you'll let me fuck you." He wrote his phone # on his credit card slip and left. I probably turned 10 shades of red and put the slip in the drawer with all the rest.
But... I couldn't stop thinking about it. He looked to be late 30s/early 40s, successful, white, tall (I'm 6 foot and he was taller than me), with a bit of an alternative bend to his style of dress. End of the night I went back through the slips and found the number, wrote it down and put it in my wallet.
All night that night I couldn't stop thinking about it. How did he know I was interested in men? Did he know? Was he just shooting his shot? Why me, anyway?
Eventually horniness won out and I broke down and texted him, saying, "Hi, this is Oaksguy from the mall earlier." We traded a few texts back and forth and then talked for a while on the phone. It was a pretty normal conversation and it came easily. He invited me over the next night I was off, just to have dinner and hang out, and I said yes.
I told my roommates I was having dinner with my parents and would be back late if at all, because I had stuff to collect from their place. I hadn't really done something quite like this before, going to a guy's house for something other than established / negotiated fun set up online, so I dressed like I was going on a date and headed over.
We ended up having a nice dinner and he kept the liquor flowing. After a while we watched tv and ended up with his arm around me, and then his hands on me, and things escalated from there. He told me he'd been checking out my ass in my work khakis and he couldn't stop imagining it bright red, and that's why he gave me his number. I didn't really know what he meant and said as much, and he said what he wanted to do more than anything was strip me, lay me down, and spank my ass until I couldn't take it any more.
Again this was all new to me. I had plenty of opportunity to say no. But, I didn't. The truth is everyone has their physical areas that turn them on, and no one is exactly the same. One of mine is my ass. Everything about it: pinching it, caressing it, smacking it, grabbing it, it all gets me going. But I'd never really been spanked.
From the very first one, I knew: this is for me. This is right for me. The tension, the anticipation, the feeling, the sound. I let him escalate it pretty far to a belt and a paddle until I really couldn't take it any more. Then he had me sit up and cemented this as a core memory for me: he put his hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes and said, "You can let it out. It's ok. I'm here." And he pulled me into an embrace, and I started to cry. It all came rushing out. The loneliness. The disappointment. The embarrassment. The self-loathing. Here in this man's house I barely knew, naked, with my bottom burning hot and bright red, crying into his shoulder. It was one of the most cathartic moments of my life, still to this day. And I still don't know how he knew it was what I needed.
