Spanking Jen on a Date by kscarpa

Spanking Jen on a Date by kscarpa

On our second date, my future wife and I were lying down on my sofa kissing when she suddenly stopped and asked what kind of sexual fantasies I have. Without missing a beat, I said “Spanking.” She seemed intrigued, asking about this as if it were a topic with which she had only vague familiarity. “I may have to smack your butt right now, to show you,” I said, holding my open hand over her jeans-clad butt.

“I dare you to,” she said. I brought my hand down, not too hard, on that cute bottom. She looked a little surprised but was smiling.

“Next time,” I added, “I may have to put you across my knee.” A look of embarrassment spread across her face as she visualized that proposed position, the idea of which seemed to bring this to a whole new level for her. “You wouldn’t dare,” she said, sounding a little shocked.

“Are you daring me to?” I asked.

“No,” she said, a little sulkily.

“That’s fine,” I said. “But I may bring this subject up again on one of our future dates, especially if you’re wearing a short skirt I can easily flip up as you lie across my lap.” She blushed a little at that visual but didn’t complain, and we resumed kissing. Later I mentioned some safewords: yellow light for slow down; red light for stop.

On our fourth date, Jen showed up in a short tan skirt. I let her in downstairs in the townhouse where I had a third-floor apartment, and then gestured for her to walk up the stairs ahead of me. “I’m going to lift that skirt,” I said, which prompted her to start running up the stairs, giggling. I followed her. She pushed through the open door of my apartment.

Once inside, she backed away from me, supposedly to keep me from lifting her skirt. She was still giggling, as I walked toward her. “I’m going to spank you,” I said. Jen replied with a push against me and an exuberant “You wouldn’t dare.”

I grabbed her arms and began walking her over to the sofa. She tried to pull away: I could see the muscles of her gorgeous legs strain. I kept walking, and her efforts to dig her heels into the rug gave her merely a moment’s delay. I sat down on the sofa and pulled her across my lap.

Promptly, I flipped that tan skirt above her waist, revealing a pair of black panties. She was wearing no stockings or pantyhose; this was a warm afternoon in June. I’d be keeping those panties on for now, I decided; after all, I hadn’t yet seen her naked butt, and uncovering it seemed a move too far.

Jen reached her right arm back as if to pull the skirt back down, but that just gave me an opportunity to pin her wrist to the small of her back. Then I grabbed her left arm, and soon had both of her wrists pinned with just my left hand. My right hand was free to undertake the task ahead.

My first smack on her panties brought some squirming and giggling but, notably, no safeword. I brought my hand down again and again, modulating my force so as to give a little sting but no significant pain. “Bastard,” she said at one point, amid more squirming and giggles.

Jen had black, open-toed shoes on, with heels that weren’t too high and straps around her ankles. She kicked a few times during the spanking, her feet smacking against the sofa. Before long, she seemed to realize that resistance was only highlighting her helplessness, and then she lay mostly still as the spanks came down. After a while, I rested my right hand on her thighs and said, “You see what happens when you step out of line?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, a little breathily. “Good,” I said, now keeping a looser grip on her wrists with my left hand while moving my right hand up between her thighs. Her panties were moist, and I probed her still-concealed pussy with my fingers. After a while, I let her wrists go and used my left hand to pull her panties slightly to the side, so my right hand could probe further. After a minute or so, she moaned and rocked across my lap.

I stroked Jen’s hair, and she gave me a smiling glance backward. Then she lifted herself from my lap and got down on her knees in front of me. Her skirt slipped down below her waist. Still kneeling, she undid my belt, opened my pants, pulled my underwear down a bit and put her lips on my throbbing cock. I let her go on like this for a moment, but soon I gently tugged her head up by the hair and motioned for her to lie next to me on the sofa. She did, and soon I was deep inside her, a rapturous first time in which she lay by my side as her backside was a bit sore.

That was five years ago, and it set a theme that held into our engagement and marriage: Jen gets spanked now and then. It’s one of several things we do where, by mutual consent, I have the upper hand. This takes various forms. She gets tied up once in a while. We do some lift-and-carry, where I’ll put her over my shoulder and take her to the bedroom or wherever I want her. She’s been known to get tickled now and then, too, sometimes while she’s strapped down with her bare feet exposed.

But spanking is our favorite type of foreplay. We’ve tried it in various positions and locations around the house or at hotels or elsewhere. “Grab your ankles” is an order I’ve occasionally given, for example, as is “To the kitchen island, now, young lady.” That time she took the wheelbarrow position was an appealing change of pace. But the old-fashioned over-the-knee position is her and my favorite, a bit of tradition we uphold in our household.

Usually, it’s just the two of us present when a spanking occurs, but there have been exceptions. After Jen and I had been dating for about seven months, we got a visit from her friend Rebecca. The two of them have known each other since high school, and there was always some rivalry mixed in with the friendship. In particular, Rebecca made a habit of flirting with guys whom Jen was dating, as if to show Jen that she could steal a guy away if she wanted.

Well, Rebecca did some of that the weekend I met her, and it was a mistake on her part. I’d known Jen only as a recipient of spankings, but it turned out she could administer them too. After Rebecca had flirted shamelessly with me for a couple of hours one afternoon, Jen told her she needed a good spanking, and to both my and Rebecca’s amazement proceeded to grab the latter’s arm and walk her over to the very same sofa where I’d first spanked Jen.

My girlfriend (and soon to be fiancĂ©e at that point) had learned my techniques well, as she pulled Rebecca across her lap, flipped up her friend’s skirt and began spanking her on her panties. Rebecca looked at me with some mix of embarrassment, chagrin and, I thought, excitement. I was fascinated to watch this, but after a few moments, I felt I had to intervene. I walked over and grabbed Jen’s wrist to prevent her upraised hand from coming down again on Rebecca’s butt. “You’re both behaving outrageously,” I said, “and you both need to be kept in line.”

I told Jen to let Rebecca off her lap, and then I stood over the the two of them lecturing as they sat side-by-side on the sofa. I discussed safewords, something that I thought had not been discussed before Jen had begun spanking Rebecca. (I later found out that Jen had told her friend what the safewords we use were.) I explained that not only my girlfriend but also any of our female friends were subject to my rules, and my methods of enforcing them, when they were in my apartment. Then I told the two of them to stand up. I sat on the middle of the sofa, and said, “Who’s first?” Without waiting for an answer, I said, “You, Jen. Then, Rebecca.”

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