Tom on the Couch

byR. Galen Greyson <>

The moment of this return arises from reflecting on an old spanking relationship. Alas, Tom died last year, unbeknownst to me until I stumbled on an announcement of the fact during a Web search! Got to thinking of the first time ...

He was a lanky, pimply kid, 19 when I met him in the bathroom of a bar in Vancouver. That night we ended up screwing in Stanley Park, that wonder of nature that is the best feature of Vancouver. I was too timid to try to spank him first time ... but the next time ...

He was at my house in the West End, listening to crazy jazz. This must have been circa 1978 or 9. We got drunk together, talked, kissed a little, talked. He had these long, hairless legs, and his ass was creamy and soft. He was still so closeted that I don't really think it occurred to him that his ass was alluring in and of itself.

Anyway, after hours of goosing around, I'd had enough. I quietly pulled him closer, so that he was lying face up on my lap. I undid his Levi's button by button, slowly, without interrupting the flow of the conversation. He obviously knew what I was doing, so he lifted his butt when it came time to push the jeans down. But, then, I tricked him. I rolled him over, and started to caress his ass with one hand as I interlaced my other hand into the curls of his hair.

Caresses moved to slaps. I don't remember when he stopped talking, but I do remember the breathless air in the room when I shucked his shorts and had my first view of his reddening ass. No scene in my spanking lfe is more burned into my mind than that dark room, the lights of downtown Vancouver twinkling through the picture window, his ass across my knee as I spanked him, silent and relentless. When he tried to get up, I pressed him down with the hand in his hair, wordlessly, and continued to spank him. The progression was slow, slow, but I wouldn't stop until I knew the pain was coursing through him. I wanted to show him the electricity of s/m without allowing his precocious tongue to cut off the learning.

I came spanking him. We remained there a long time, silently, in this configuration new to him and new to us. Then I rolled him over and wordlessly blew him. We fell aslep in each other's arms ... and I spanked him again when morning arrived

I guess, now, it seems like a terrible risk to have taken in a new friendship, but I knew he needed it ... and I gave it to him that night, and many more nights.

We lost contact in the 90s. I knew he was positive, but he never called as he got sick. I wish I could have kissed him one more time ... just one more slap.