A man like me at this stage in my life should not feel this way, or so I thought. Here I was a 40-year-old widower finding myself enraptured like a teenager for this woman. A younger woman at that, but OH what a woman she is. She is naïve and yet wise beyond her years, possessing a wonderful mix of intelligence, insecurity, and common sense. She is in my eyes childlike and yet filled with a smoldering passion that burns deep just beneath the surface. She awoke feelings of joy, tenderness, hopeful love, and raw lust in me I had buried so deep I never thought I'd feel them again.
We found each other when neither one of us was looking nor seeking a mate. Those first tentative steps were slow and cautious as we both came to realize over coffee and conversation that something between us just seemed right. After countless phone calls and letters and chats on the Internet we came to know each other.
I learned her mother had ruled her every move and when she finally got her own apartment at the age of 26 she found herself unable to make decisions because she lacked any self-confidence. Her mother is a vile woman who ridiculed her every decision and whose constant criticism has made her an easy target for the bullying slugs she had dated.
She could put together bank loans and mortgages and yet found her own bills to be something she couldn't handle. She had decorated her apartment wonderfully but had a hard time deciding what to eat for supper. She would get dressed up on a Friday night just to go shopping because she lacked the courage to walk half a block to a local pub when they had a band even though she loved to dance.
Instead she would sit by the open window and listen to the music and laughter. Surrounded by people she was alone and I often felt the same way.
After I lost my wife I often sat alone on my patio with a drink and now found myself wondering how many times we had both sat in the dark waiting for some one to find us and yet here we were separated by only a few city blocks.
I am a spankophile by nature and was terrified she would either laugh at this or be disgusted by my confession. To my surprise this quiet and shy girl brought this up before I had the chance. She confided in me that before her Father left her Mom when she was 18 she had received regular bare bottom spankings and paddlings.
Always given by her Father, but usually by her Mother's order she found that although she hated them, afterward when she was forgiven and hugged by him, she felt loved and guilt free. She would be spanked for anything her Mom felt she did wrong.
If her grades slipped from an A to a B+ and it was the paddle, oversleep and leave the bed unmade, it was a spanking, come home late and it was the strap! After he left there were no more spankings but her Mother's non-stop criticism and put downs had piled on plenty of guilt and a lack of self-respect with little affection and no release.
Armed with months of conversation our first date was simply a walk by the river with an ice-cream cone in one hand and her hand in my other. We talked about everything and anything and I found her to be simply enchanting. Dressed in jeans and T-shirts all was well till a sudden summer shower sent us running about ¾ of a mile to her apartment laughing all the way. There in the hall, dripping wet and shivering, we kissed for the first time. The gentle softness of her lips melted my heart right there.
She brought me a towel and took my wet shirt to the dryer. Then she changed into sweat pants and a sweater. We sat on her couch as the thunder rumbled and the lightning flashed and when the power went out and the room fell into darkness, she snuggled up to me and for a brief time my world was perfect. We kissed and cuddled there on her big couch till she drifted off to sleep with her head on my lap. When I awoke she was still there and the mornings first light was coming in the windows making her look angelic sleeping on my lap. She woke up with a start and a looked at with a sleepy smile and we both laughed. I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to her big bed where a dropped her as she shrieked and giggled.
I told her I had to go home and change for work. She reached up, hugged me and gave me a kiss. I had forgotten the simple pleasure of passionate kisses. I told her I wanted to take her to dinner that night and she answered with a happy "yes."
So for the next month we slowly became inseparable. She surprised me with her sexual hunger and the uninhibited way she enjoyed sex. Smart, independent, very feminine, yet I sensed her deep insecurity. She had a need for reassurance and guidance on a personal level. I began to realize also that she associated spanking with forgiveness and with love. She had often spoken glowingly of her father and mentioned many times about him spanking her. I came to realize the doubt and guilt feelings she carried, as emotional baggage had been wiped clean when she was punished and then forgiven. To her punishment and forgiveness equaled love.
Things had been going fine and I certainly never had any reason to punish her when she forced the issue by doing something unexpected. I had often taken her over my knee for play spankings and had even happily spanked her ass during lovemaking but never for punishment.
I noticed that whenever something went wrong like her being late for a date or not ready on time, or even something simple like burning dinner, forgetting to return videos or anything of that nature she would get upset with herself and look at me expectantly. I never chastised her and instead felt a hug and a gentle word of encouragement was called for. This often left her quiet and brooding for some time after and I sensed she was somehow disappointed. I knew in the past her mother and boyfriends would berate her for every little thing so I tried the opposite approach, for her shortcomings were few and minor. She carried a lot of guilt in her so I tried to build her self-confidence. It was I found out, the wrong approach to take.
It had been a bad week for her. There was lots of stress in work with deadlines and closings to be ready for. She ran out of gas one night on the way home from work and I had to go bring a can of it to rescue her. Thursday night she forgot about our dinner date and worked late while I sat in a restaurant for over 90 minutes till she arrived and sat with a guilty look throughout dinner. Friday night she tried to make it up to me by making my favorite dinner but she fell asleep and baked our lasagna to crispy shoe leather. She was in tears as I sat down to hack into it and couldn't help but smile at her. I was thinking how much I loved this girl when suddenly she asked me to leave and said she didn't want to see me anymore. I was stunned and hurt at this and she began to cry bitterly with her head in her hands.
"You don't care," she told me weeping, "you never even get upset when I do things wrong. It must not matter to you what I do!"
