My Bf Asks About My Spanking History

The other night, my boyfriend and I were cuddling on the couch on our day off. We were talking about our past lives and sexual experiences, as the yellow lamp light lit our faces, our bodies wrapped around each other. We were both in our 40s, and had just started dating that year, and there was still a lot to learn about what we liked, and didn't like. Our histories were fresh to each other. While I went into the story of how I lost my virginity at age 18, to a boy with a long slender pale dick, in his parents' basement, while the parents watched tv upstairs, my boyfriend (in present time) reached his hand inside my shirt and pinched my stiff nipple. My lower half squirmed, but he wouldn't touch me there, not yet.

"I love hearing about your first time," he said, tongue almost hanging out of his mouth like a panting dog, "I love thinking about your pussy back then, newly discovered. He was a lucky boy."

I laughed and pushed my fingers through his curly brown hair. It was cute how attracted to me he was, in these moments of just talking. He gave the lower bulb of my boob one final swipe with his soft fingers and my nipple one hard tug before removing his hand from my shirt. I saw him reach further down and I breathed in deep through my nose. He placed his large hand firmly on the side of my butt, grabbing one butt cheek from where i sat, only covered by my yoga pants. When he squeezed my flesh, he stared me in the eye, expression now furrowed and almost mean, less puppy dog. My heart started to beat a little faster.

"Ow," I said playfully.

"I bet that does hurt a little," he responded gruffly, still squeezing, "especially after this morning's punishment."

He rolled my yoga pants down ever so slightly, revealing a peek of my pink butt cheek. We both inspected it, checking on the progress of my spanked bottom. He shook his head and pulled the elastic of my pants back up, and patted the area.

"42 years old and still getting spanked," he said to me, disapprovingly. I half-smiled and looked down, trying to hide the fact that I was getting very steamed up in the crotch of my yoga pants.

I thought of that morning, when I had refused to get out of bed and make breakfast. My boyfriend left the bedroom to make coffee and read the news on his phone. He came back an hour later, and I was still in bed. Only I wasn't sleeping - I was laying on my stomach and masturbating with my vibrator. He instantly lifted the covers and pulled me over his lap. I was called a "brat" and "naughty slut" while he spanked me with his hand over my underwear, and then my bare butt. I cried and kicked. I loved very minute of it. I knew as soon as he was done, I would get fucked good, and I was.

"Tell me more about other first times," he said, getting back to our original conversation. "I want to hear about the first time you were spanked by a man."

I blushed and laughed a little.

"You mean by my DAD?" I said. He rolled his eyes.

"No, no. I don't want to hear about you being spanked as a child. When you were grown," he said, reaching both hands back towards my low-cut long-sleeved shirt. He latched on both my tits and swirled his thumbs around my nipples, his tongue pushed against his cheek in concentration. I laughed in pleasure.

"Well the last time I was spanked by my dad, I was twenty years old."

"Really?" he replied, stopping the swirling over my shirt, in interest.

"Yeah, it's not that interesting. I was home from college on winter break. We had gotten into a fight at Christmas about politics. It was during our annual Christmas party. I screamed at him and called him an idiot, so I guess he was embarrassed by my behavior - it was in front of everyone in my family, all standing there, holding drinks in their stupid holiday sweaters. While the party was still going on, he grabbed me by the arm and took me upstairs to his bedroom. I was spanked soundly, with my dress flipped up, over my tights. I was humiliated. When we came back downstairs, everyone could see my puffy face from crying. I was sure everyone knew. I hid in my childhood bedroom for the rest of the night, absolutely mortified. Oh and my butt was so sore. My dad spanked hard. I probably deserved it, though."

My boyfriend listened intently. I saw it then, the bulge in his sweatpants, familiar and yet so exciting to me. I reached over and softly touched the outline of it, smiling at him.

"Please, tell me another story," he said, back in panting puppy dog mode, and I laughed. "Who was the next man? To spank you after that?"

I didn't have to think too long about how to answer. This was a story I thought of often. I took in a deep breath.

"Well, after college I was really lost, okay. I had dated this musician guy for like 8 months, and then he brutally dumped me - it completely ruined me. I had moved back to my hometown and was living with my sister, but all my best friends were living in bigger cities. Some even had jobs that related to what they studied in college, can you imagine that? I was feeling like I didn't know who I was. I went to this dive bar by my sister's house a lot, and got drunk. Sometimes I would talk to people, and sometimes I would just read a book or write poems in my notebook. I was real emo, it was the early 2000s, okay. So one night, this man comes to my booth I always sat at and sat with me. He started asking about my poems and about my life. He was a lot older - he wore a leather jacket and his skin was leathery, as if he had really bad acne as a teen and it never recovered. We instantly connected, talking about bands we liked and about Bukowski or something, who knows. I kept ordering more PBRs. I was sloshed."

"He didn't fuck you in the bathroom, did he?" my boyfriend interjected, guiding my hand over the thickness in his pants.

"No. Actually, no! I remember thinking in the moment, that I wasn't sure if I trusted him. The way he looked at me, he had this funny twinkle in his eye. I had no friends at the bar around to tell me if he was cool, or a creep. I didn't trust myself on my impression of him. The bartenders yelled "last call", and I got up and got on my coat, told him it was nice to meet him, and maybe I'd see him again at the bar, since I was there every weekend. He asked me how I was getting home. I said, I'm driving myself home, I borrowed my sister's car and she has to go to work in the morning. At this point we were talking outside on the sidewalk, since the bar was closed. He called me "young lady" and told me I could not drive home, I was too drunk, it was dangerous. I remember feeling so weirdly turned on by being called "young lady." But I told him - no, I have to drive home. My sister needs the car. I'll be careful, I'm not that drunk. He wouldn't let me budge, he stood in front of my car. I struggled against his body, telling him, "Get off, I need to drive home!" He said to me, "Young lady, If you don't let me drive you home, I'm going to spank you right here on the sidewalk.""

"A public spanking!" My boyfriend chirped in, delighted by all of this. I shook my head.

"No, I was terrified by this threat. I mean, this was a total stranger, outside of the bar I frequented, where all the regulars were standing around smoking cigarettes, waiting for the next move. So I gave in and said, Okay, you can drive me home. But my sister will not be happy about this. He responded, "Life has consequences." I never forgot that. I got into the passenger seat of his old Jeep. He drove very carefully, and I realized he hadn't been drinking at all that whole time. My head was kind of woozy, and I was actually glad I wasn't driving. Maybe he had saved me from some fatal car accident, I'll never know. Maybe he was some kind of guardian angel passing through, because I never did see him again after that night. So when we got to my sister's, he told me to get out of the car, and I obeyed. He did too, and opened the door of the backseat, and pulled me in by my wrist. In complete silence, he pulled up my coat and my skirt, pulled down my tights and underwear with one tug of his strong fingers, and began spanking.

"My bottom was completely naked, I was so embarrassed. I put my hand back to try to stop him, and he pinned my arm. He spanked and spanked. My butt felt like it was on fire. His grip as he pinned me down was out of this world - he must have been in the construction field, or something like that. I was so attracted to the callouses of his hand as it impacted me, ringing out the stinging of my two very sore cheeks. Five minutes had gone by, and I began to cry and told him I promised I would never drink and drive. He made me promise again a couple of times, patted my butt once more and told me to get up. I was so exhausted from the spanking, so I just lay there for a second. He slipped his hand between my legs for a moment, and I held my breath as he felt my wetness - I was so horny for him, and had been, all night, despite being almost a little afraid of him. His calloused finger rubbed me for a little bit, and I had the most delicious orgasm of my life thus far. I remember him saying, "That's it, good girl." I got up and pulled up my tights. I told him thank you. Honestly, I felt really grateful. I walked into the house and he watched me from his Jeep to make sure I made it inside safely."

"I can tell that story still really turns you on," my boyfriend said huskily into my ear, his own fingers making the come-here motion inside my yoga pants. He was teasing my entrance, the slit of me.

"Yeah, it does." My eyelids fluttered closed, and my mouth parted open, in the shape of an O, breathing in a high pitched register.

"Maybe when we go back to your hometown for Christmas this year, we can recreate these stories, your first spankings as a grown woman. Would you like that?"

"Yes, very much."