The First Time, But Definitely Not The Last

I'll never forget the first time I was spanked as an adult. I was twenty. I responded to an ad in a magazine called the Woodshed. The gentleman in question lived not far from Fort Worth Texas. I didn't own a car at the time so I had to take the bus. I was so nervous during the trip. All I could think about was my bottom and what was about to happen to it. (Do you know what it's like to spend several hours on a bus thinking about nothing but your bottom?)

My host met me at the bus station. He wasn't the least bit attractive, an older man around sixty or so. He looked like a hobbit, and I don't mean Elisha Wood. More like Ian Holmes. But he was very friendly and he immediately put me at my ease. I felt comfortable around him, which given the enormous risk I was taking was very important. (Looking for Mr. Goodbar had been released not long before this.)

I spent the entire weekend with him, during which he spanked me with a variety of paddles and belts of various shapes, sizes and thicknesses. The pain was much worse than I remembered from the many spankings I received from my stepfather growing up. But I loved it. I couldn't get enough. Some of the spankings were administered over his knee, but since I was taller than my host, that position didn't work so well. So most of the time I was lying on my belly on one of the two single beds in his bedroom, naked from the waist down, while he sat next to me and held me around the waist. It felt so intimate. And it hurt so much. I learned a lot during that weekend about how to navigate the pain of a spanking, learning to ride it without letting it overwhelm you. And it was a pleasant surprise to learn that I could take a long hard spanking without once asking my host to stop. (Or at least without meaning it when I said it.)

My host was apparently very popular among the local spanking community. He had a large number of regular "guests." And this is where it gets interesting. He tape recorded every spanking he ever administered. So when he wasn't spanking me, I was sitting on my warm butt listening to recordings of other men getting their bare bottoms spanked. Most of them were men in their thirties and forties. This was back in the eighties when married men who wanted to get ****** were often afraid of letting another man penetrate them since that might mean they were queer. So for many of these men, spanking served as a kind of substitute. You could let another man spank you apparently without being queer. Or at least that is how the logic went. I encountered a lot of these kinds of men back then but they are a lot rarer now, when for various reasons married men seem more comfortable admitting their homoerotic needs. But back in the eighties three out of four men I met seemed to be married closet cases.

But back to the tapes. It was fantastic listening to recordings of grown men taking long hard spankings. Most of them were Texas rednecks and had deep masculine voices, but by the end of their punishments they were always wining and sobbing like little boys. (My host was VERY good at his job!) Listening to the transformation in their voices over the course of a long spanking was one of the hottest things I've ever heard. My host also tape recorded the spankings he gave me and before I left he gave me a copy. I lost it years ago but would give anything to be able to hear that tape again. I can still remember how I sounded on the tape, going "OOH! OOH! OOH! THAT HURTS!"

I was a wonderful weekend and when it was over I took the return trip home seated on a still throbbing bottom. My endorphins were working overtime and I felt like I was walking on a cloud. I spent another weekend with my host several months later and it was just as memorable. On that occasion he spanked me with one of his regulars, a young man in his twenties he felt that he needed to be punished for various offenses. He had a lovely little bottom and my host spanked him to tears while I watched. And then he got to watch me being spanked to tears. It was the perfect weekend.

I never saw my host again because he died not long afterwards of a heart attack, but he made a powerful impression one me, in various ways. Those weekends confirmed me in my career as a committed spanko. It's been more than thirty years now and I'm still trying to top the experience of those two fantastic weekends. I haven't succeeded yet.

But I intend to keep trying.
newman1833 newman1833
51-55, M
1 Response Sep 11, 2012

instant hard on

I take that as a compliment!