In my previous story, I told you you about witnessing spankings from a very strict teacher in school, and how I persuaded my own mother to smack my bottom, albeit in generally a ‘fun’ manner.
As I mentioned, these smackings from Mum came to an end at around 14, perhaps because she thought I was too old, or maybe she had noticed the arousal in my pants before putting me over her knee. However, this wasn’t the last time I was smacked as a child.
Still seeking the lovely intimacy of time over an attractive woman’s knee, I targeted Mrs Hughes, the mother of one of my friends. Whenever I was round at his house, Mrs Hughes would often threaten both of us with a smack, and I guessed that with only a little encouragement I could get her to actually give me a proper spanking.
Behind the family’s house was a field, where there was a rope swing and us boys could roam free safely. One weekend, myself and three other boys were invited over to play in the field. On arrival at the house, I noticed a lot of greetings cards in the lounge – it had obviously been Mrs Hughes’ birthday recently. So I hatched a cunning plan.
I excused myself from the games in the field, saying that I needed a drink and the toilet. I ran back into the house, where Mrs Hughes was working in the kitchen. We knew each other pretty well and she was quite used to my cheeky ways.
With a grin on my face, I asked her if all the cards meant she was 50 years old. “You’re far too cheeky for your own good, Sam!” was the response. Mrs Hughes was clearly in a good mood. I asked for some water, and she gave me a small glass. “Now, drink up and clear off back down the field!” she said, a smile still on her lips.
As I drank my water, Mrs Hughes mumbled something about having a word with my mum about my cheeky comments. I played the game, really enjoying the fun. I wanted to hear Mrs Hughes say I deserved a spanking – and I got way more than I bargained for!
“If I were your mum, I’d soon straighten you out, young man!” she said. This was where I came unstuck – I dared her!
Mrs Hughes folded her arms and leaned back against the sink. “Sam,” she said, “if I take one step towards you, I bet you any money you’ll run out that door as fast as your legs will go. You’re all mouth!”
I grinned again but said nothing. “Well, cheeky boy, are you leaving this kitchen with a sore bottom – or are we all going to call you chicken from now on?” Oh crap, she had me! I had been doubled-dared, she’d seen me coming and I couldn’t back down.
I sensed that Mrs Hughes was about to get her revenge for all my cheeky comments she’d suffered over the years. All I could muster was a straight rebuttal. “I’m not a chicken!”
Mrs Hughes arched an eyebrow. “Prove it!” She pulled out a chair and sat down on it, facing me. “Get those jeans off and get yourself across my knee – I’m going to give you the spanking your mother should have given you years ago!” She pointed her finger at her waiting lap and stared me down.
It wasn’t feeling quite so much fun now – but I couldn’t bear to be called a chicken. My bluff had been called, and with as much bravado as I could manage, I stepped forward and lowered my jeans. “I’m not a chicken!” I repeated. Mrs Hughes smiled and said: “Then get yourself across my knee, before all the other boys come up from the field and get to watch me spank you!”
So over I went. Luckily, Mrs Hughes let me keep my underwear in place, but boy did she pull my pants up tight. I thought I was going to lose them for good in my bum crack! “I’ll give you am I 50!” was the last thing I heard. My bare bottom was fully exposed and my pants were so tight, it was practically a wedgie.
Then Mrs Hughes set my bum ablaze. She smacked me for real, and for the first time I experienced just how much a proper spanking could sting. She took me right to the point of tears – I was that close – when she stopped and told me to stand up, because the other boys were coming.
It was a short spanking, probably no more than two minutes, but wow did she smack hard! Another 20 or 30 seconds and I would have started to cry, of that I was quite sure.
I had just managed to pull my jeans up over my now burning bottom when my friends burst into the kitchen – they had come for drinks themselves, and to see what was taking me so long.
The sudden flurry of activity in the kitchen allowed me to conceal that I was feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Nevertheless, it took a few seconds to collect myself. Boy, did my bottom burn! Mrs Hughes attended to the other boys as if nothing had happened.
As we all left the kitchen, Mrs Hughes gave me an almighty swat on my seat to help me on my way. I yelped in genuine pain, and the other boys all screamed with laughter because I had got a smack. Little did they know how sore I already was inside my pants.
That day, as we were leaving, Mrs Hughes caught my arm and whispered in my ear: “We have unfinished business, young man – unless you want to be called chicken?”
I never did get that threatened spanking but everytime I went to the Hughes’s house I was a bag of nerves. Mrs Hughes could smack hard, that was for sure. On a few occasions afterwards, she would catch my eye with a look, then say something like: “Go on – be cheeky, and see what happens.” No bloody fear!
Around about this time, maybe 15 or 16, I heard about the tradition of birthday spankings. I thought this might offer me a window of opportunity to be spanked by one last time by my mum. But it transpired that most birthday spankings were administered with an implement in a standing position, and I went off the idea.
As I reached adulthood, there were a couple of casual girlfriends along the way but the subject of spanking was never raised. As long as a girl wore a skirt and heels on the odd date, I was satisfied. It’s pretty much impossible for a young man to ask a girl to smack his bottom, especially after only a couple of dates.
When I was 21, no longer a virgin though still very inexperienced, I attended a wedding. I could not take my eyes off one of the bridesmaids. She was eight years older than me, but then given my interest in legs, stockings and spanking it was perhaps no surprise I found an older woman attractive.
She wore white seamed stockings – a first for me and still a favourite. She was easily the most attractive woman at the wedding and with the prettiest legs I’d seen probably since Miss Webb, my old teacher.
I asked her for a dance. It turned out that although single, she had a four-year-old daughter and doubted my intentions. There was understandable mistrust of men but I proved myself to be true and slowly won her trust and her heart.
For the first time, I really was a chicken! My cheeky ways went walkabout. I had intended to declare my interest in spanking on Valentine’s Day, but at the last moment feared it would spoil what was otherwise a perfect evening.
The following weekend with her daughter at her grandmother’s, I confessed my spanking desires. My interest in stockings was accepted very early on, due to me being very, very honest. I will skip the explanation about how I explained my interest in spanking. My partner made me swear that if she agreed to spank me, her daughter would never hear or see us at it.
Of course I agreed, and I got my first adult spanking. At my request, my partner wore those white seamed stockings, and for the first time my underpants were removed fully removed before I was positioned across her knee. I had a solid erection from the start and my partner gripped it tightly between those perfect, white stockinged thighs.
After not much more than 30 seconds of gentle spanking, I made a terrible mess! After the clean-up, I was spanked again, this time quite soundly, for ejaculating over her stockings. Afterwards, I took myself off to the corner and stood with my hands on my head until my erection returned. At 21, it didn’t take long! We then had the best sex I had ever had.
We are still together today and my partner has become an accomplished spanker. Most of these encounters are purely for fun but one or two of the spankings she has given me have caused considerable discomfort. Strangely, she won’t actually admit that she enjoys smacking my bottom but she often initiates a spanking and applies her hand with considerable enthusiasm. All these smackings always end in passionate love-making.