Our Very First Spanking

I recall the first time Randy spanked me. It wasn't very intense and it lacked the inventiveness of some of our later escapades, but it's a fond memory.

The time was the late seventies. Our peanut farmer president (the one with lust in his heart) grappled with how to manage soaring inflation and rampant unemployment at the same time. Gasoline was expensive. Marijuana was cheap. Television featured such milestone productions as the A-Team and Three's Company. Popular music bounced between soulless disco and mindless punk. No one had ever heard of AIDS and most people thought the pill was safe. It was a different world.

The place was a cheap apartment located near a large urban university. Blaring rock music and the odor of stale beer from nearby campus bars filtered in through open windows each summer night. An eager entomologist could have written a doctoral dissertation on the variety of insect life present in those dwellings. The residents' housekeeping standards were positively medieval. This particular apartment was located on the second floor, which made it especially warm in the summer. There was no air conditioning. Bad as conditions were, this place was good enough. This was where my Randy lived.

We had been dating for about two months. Although I had been interested in spanking since childhood, we had never discussed the subject, even briefly. I really loved this guy (or at least I really thought I did). He was fun to be with. He was handsome. He treated me with respect. He had this cute mustache. He was the best lover I had ever known (and still is!). I didn't want my weird desires to mess up this wonderful romantic alliance. In my mind, I believed once I was established in a stable relationship, those fantasies would be subsumed by more normal sexual interests.

We enjoyed just lying in bed for hours. We talked. We played. We laughed. We made love. It was great. It didn't seem like a carefree time back then, but in comparison to the years that followed, it certainly was. On one summer Saturday, late in the afternoon, we were engaged in this delightful activity. It was hot, but we had a good breeze.

We were enjoying some light foreplay when Randy sat on the edge of the bed. He asked me to "Come 'ere." He had me lie face down across his lap in what is now a very familiar position. At this point, I was game for just about anything. Noting my position, I asked, "What are you going to do, spank me?" I had absolutely no reason to believe he would or even could do such a thing. Randy quickly replied "No, I was just going to apply some lubrication." He grabbed the tube and, true to his word, massaged the perpetually cold goo into all sorts of fun locales.

The dialogue which followed is one which makes me smile even today. It went something like this:

R: Why? Do you want me to spank you?

B: Oh, I don't know. Maybe if you want to.

R: I might want to if you would enjoy it.

B: I don't know if I'd enjoy it, but you can if you'd enjoy it.

R: I couldn't enjoy it unless you did too.

B: Maybe I could. Could you?

R: I'd be willing to as long as you're OK with it.

B: Shut up and spank me already!

He did and the rest is history. It wasn't much of a spanking, but the lovemaking that followed was our best ever. As it turned out, we were, at least in this regard, ideal partners. He was turned-on by giving a spanking. I was turned-on by getting one. I don't doubt that people in and around that crummy apartment building during the following months were treated to an interesting soundtrack. To this day, Randy's former roommate refers to me (though not to my face) as "Spanky."

So who initiated that first spanking? I think I did and Randy thinks he did. I don't know that there is any real need to resolve this friendly dispute. I invite you, dear reader, to make up your own mind. What's important to me is that it happened. It set the stage for our exciting life together.

Keywords: spanking, first spanking, spanking memories