A gay sex stories: A Lesson in Spanking and Free Use
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.
———
At the time, it was hard to understand exactly how I’d ended up here. By “here” I mean naked, with my ass still burning hot to the touch and dully throbbing, naked in the shower of a man I barely knew. With each passing moment, though, I worried about it a little bit less, and then a little less still. This was the first time I’d been told to call someone “Sir” and I found I liked it more than “Daddy”; not that I minded that either, but Sir just came much more naturally.
Regardless, the whole experience was much different than the ones I’d had before. This was no quick rendezvous in a car, or a park at night, or a sneaky visit while a girlfriend or spouse was away, past the potential eyes of prying neighbors. It was clear that this encounter was only going to end quickly if I made it end. Sir continued to wash me all over, massaging me, washing me. He had a really nice shower, a really nice house – for 23-year old me, it felt like he had a really nice everything.
“I’m going to really wash you all over. You don’t need to do anything but stand here and enjoy. I’m enjoying this too.”
I’d never showered with a man before. I mean, I’d showered with guys in school and obviously as a kid and such, but not where the air hung heavy with the understanding that sex was likely going to happen in short order and at any moment. And for the first time I also realized that Sir was pretty well hung, looking to be about 7.5″ and thick. I wondered what it was that had him so hard – was it the spanking? The shower? The understanding that we both knew I was going to be fucked soon? I was lost in thought as he soaped up my ass, gently, and inserted a soapy finger in me slowly, very slowly, stretching me, and then soaping himself up again and adding a second.
He put his hands on my shoulders and moved me behind him, and then rinsed himself off quickly.
“Use whatever towel you want, and meet me in bed. Don’t put on any other clothes. You won’t need them the rest of the night.”
With that, he exited the shower, grabbed a towel, and left the bathroom after a moment of drying off. I turned off the water and followed, taking a few more moments to dry myself thoroughly. I saw myself in the mirror, half-hard myself, the bright pink of my ass already fading and in some places, starting to turn darker.
It wasn’t totally dark in the bedroom, so I finished drying and hung up the towel, and made my way to his bed. It was large, probably a king size, and it felt incredibly comfortable as I drew the covers over myself. The emotional release I’d had along with the shower made me feel sleepy and content, despite feeling horny and anxious with anticipation.