Here's the thing - I have had a fantasy for about 10 years that I cannot find anyone who is willing to help me fulfil. I know that sounds odd, but it's true. See what you think . . .
Firstly, a little about me. Early forties, carrying a couple of extra pounds though I'm about right for my size. Shaved head (hate balding wispy hairs!), blue grey eyes, reasonably well built.
I'm looking for a couple, preferably a bit older, to use me for an hour or so - that's all. There are loads of stories here about cuckolds and BDSM, but I think I fall somewhere in between. Here's my fantasy . . .
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I arrived at the front door of a nondescript house in a nice suburb - no concerns leaving the car parked in front of the house here! As I walked up to the front door I caught a little movement of a curtain - so, they knew I'd arrived.
The front door was ajar an inch or so, as I'd been told it would be, and with a little trepidation for what I was expecting to come, I pushed through the door and pushed it nearly closed behind me. Standing in the small entrance area, I could see tasteful decorations and furniture in the adjoining lounge area, while in front of me was a kitchen stool that held a blindfold and a note with one word - "Welcome!". Now I was getting adrenaline nerves. I simultaneously wanted to go through with this, and was thinking I should get the hell outta here! We'd agreed over emails that when they heard the front door close I'd either be there and ready to continue, or they'd find an empty room with me gone.
I undressed fairly quickly, my freshly shaved eight inch boner making a lie out of any concerns my brain might have head.
Folding my clothes neatly, I placed them on the stool, sat the blindfold on my head and stepped back. The adrenaline was definitely surging - I closed the door a little harder than I meant to, quickly stepping back to the middle of the small room and pulling the blindfold securely over my eyes.
It seemed like an eternity, standing there naked and blind, in a strange house, a raging hard on jutting out in front of me, before I sensed rather than heard movement nearby.
To my left a woman's voice, older, silky, simply said "Welcome Mike" - I guess I knew who wrote the note. That was Helen, and she sounded as good as her photos.
Then, to my right, a deeper, huskier mans voice - Paul. "This is your last chance son. Stand there or leave, but this is your last chance." Shit -- a guy was looking at me naked with a hard cock! But thie is what I had come for, and the initial shock at the reality of my "situation" gave way to what felt like an extra inch growing out the front - and I stood my ground. "All right then." The they left, and a moment later I heard the stereo start.
I was lead through the lounge and then on through the house, a small hand gripping my hard on and leading me. We stopped, and she gently pushed me forwards from my waist until I was leaning over something like a padded table. Her hand snaked down my butt cheeks, lightly tracing my crack, and cupped my balls from behind, so I spread my feet a bit further apart to give her room. She reached around, playing gently with my cock. "DO you like that?"
A moan was all I could muster to answer her, and as I did I was grabbed roughly by the wrists and pulled forwards until the table was embedded above my groin, my straining dick sitting under the edge. Before I could really react I heard the sound of something moving rapidly through the air, followed by the most indescribable pain I'd ever felt on my arse; I was getting my first ever whipping and it was scaring the hell out of me, and it FUCKING HURT!
She whipped me about six times before pausing, and then started in on me with her hand. After five, she stopped.
"The riding crop was to warm you up a little, but I prefer to spank little boys with my bare hands. I think that must be more embarrassing, don't you?", and I was surprised to realise she was right - I was feeling incredibly embarrassed right now.
Another quick five spanks were delivered, with her hand in the small of my back (which she didn't need - it felt like Hulk Hogan was holding me forwards!). "When I ask you a question, you WILL answer it - do you understand?"
"Yes Ma'am" was about the best I could choke out - I was feeling incredibly vulnerable and highly embarrassed, and thought I might be about to cry.
"You certainly sound like a little boy being spanked. That's a good start!"
And with that the torment really began. I was held fast as she spanked and spanked and spanked me. I managed to hold it all together for about a minute, then couldn't resist as the tears started to flow, my poor backside being turned dark red by this vile woman. I don't know how long she spanked me, or how many times she struck me, but I was on fire from the back of my knees to the top of my buttocks.
I hated her.
I hated him for holding me
I hated myself for being there.
But not for long.
Bawling like a baby, I realised she had finished, and the grip on my wrists was less. She was making cooing sounds, and spreading something cool and smooth (hand cream?) over my abused backside. The sobs lessened, and the "massage" started working cream down into my inner thighs, around my balls, and back up to my puckered arse. She teased at me back there, my virgin spot, until she'd managed to get one of her little fingers in there with some lube. The effect was phenomenal. I'd played with my own hole in the past, but to have someone else do it, especially when you have no control, was mind blowing.
I couldn't help but start moaning, at which point I also realised that I hadn't lost my hard on during my spanking, and now I felt that it was going to burst, the pressure was so painful.
"I think it's time we saw to my needs, don't you?"
