This is Stroker AL with a real life experience story about me getting spanked last month. I dedicate it to Papa John, who made it possible.
My new spank daddy, who calls himself Papa John, arrived at my house in this pleasant Midwestern college town at 1 pm on a Monday a few weeks ago. I had the house all ready for action, with the windows down for sound proofing, and the air conditioning going to keep all the sweat to a manageable level.
I was wearing khaki cargo shorts, white socks, black sport shoes, a black Hawaiian shirt with a white ribbed A-shirt underneath. I was also wearing this pair of nerd glasses without lenses (I wear contacts) because told me he liked to humiliate nerds. If you want to picture me, with my short, lightly-moussed dirty blonde hair, imagine Greg Kinnear at a luau.
John is a handsome, somewhat older bearded and balding bear, with a deceptively gentle demeanor. He lulled me into this sense of safety and control, and I let down my guard and started making out with him on my couch in a _c_o_c_k_ tease kind of way. After a while he started hinting around that it was time for my spanking, and I came back to attention and regained my original intention for an attitude of mild disdain and bratty indifference. I laughed and said, "You didn't really belief that stuff I told you about spanking, did you? That was all a bunch of fun for an interesting email exchange. But if you were expecting to spank my straight boy ass for real, I'm sorry you wasted the three hour drive here on a mistaken impression."
Then he started laughing, and kissing me and to starts to forcibly move me into a spankable position. And all this time he's sounding understanding and tolerant and cooperative but his physical movements and his words are suggesting quite the opposite.
"Oh I really don't think so. If anyone has a mistaken impression, it must be you. But I'll soon give you the RIGHT impression--right on your ass, young man." John said.
For the next ten minutes I'm talking tough and trying to act cool as I attempt to stand up and disengage myself from his strong arms, which keep pulling me back down after every movement I make upwards, and he keeps smiling and laughing gently as he continues to undermine my resolve and my attempts to maintain autonomy and assert my rights as an adult male.
My rhetoric becomes more desperate and pathetic ("But what kind of man would ALLOW himself to be spanked across another man's lap like a bratty little boy?") as I keep finding myself getting pushed across his lap and I have to keep trying to keep his hands from undoing my belt buckle and tugging at the back of my shorts and grabbing my crotch and having to explain and defend the hardening condition of my _c_o_c_k_.
John is playing along terrifically, new as we are to each other, as he uses increasing force and more taunting language, while maintaining the falsely gentle demeanor. But naturally my struggling and whining and protesting starts to irritate him, even while he's grabbing bigger and bigger handfuls of my nice chunky ass through my pants each time he drags me back across his lap, and I can start to hear the edge in his voice which makes my blood begin to boil with nervous excitement. I can tell he LIKES my big ass, and can't wait to get a better feel of it through fewer layers of clothes and to get a look at it for the first time. But even then, he told me later, he knew I'd been right to tell him my ass wouldn't disappoint him in the flesh (he'd seen it in pictures and was tantalized).
By leaning in on me and holding back one of my arms, even while making certain threats through clenched teeth, John manages to get my belt unbuckled and my cargo shorts unbuttoned and unzipped. As many an expertly spanked brat knows, that's kind of a point of no return, and even while I'm still hanging desperately onto the waist of my pants to keep him from yanking them down, part of me is already resigned to my de-pantsed fate, and I then make the mistake of exposing my weakened resolve, by asking him to promise to never tell anyone about what he's going to do to me.
He readily swears he'll tell no one, because it's obvious now that he's conquered my little Midwestern pussyboy ass and that the idea of me trying to hold him accountable is a laugh. The last few minutes I'm able to keep him from pulling my pants down over my ass seems on the surface like a big struggle, but we both know it's just a game, because everything--including my hard _c_o_c_k_ against his lap-- indicates that how much I really want it, no matter what I say. The truth is I'm _f_u_c_k_ed, and my ass belongs to my persistent guest.
Finally he wrestles my hands free of the belt and loops and yanks my cargo shorts down my tanned and lightly hairy legs. What an exhilarating and humiliating feeling of freedom. "Hey! I protest, loudly yet ineffectually, reciting out loud as I like to do, every thing he's doing to me step by step, with feigned indignation, and primarily as an excuse to savor my own humiliation through spoken language.
"You can't pull down my pants, I'm a grown man.........what am I doing across your lap in just my underpants? This isn't fair!"
I also like to bargain and backtrack and hint and how much I love it alternatively, like a very confused but excited brat. John seemed to enjoy that and met me at each turn, verbally and physically. He smacked my big round white-briefed behind with delight. My big meaty cheeks resonated from the smack of his hand, and of course I had to protest.
Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! Yeowwwch! Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! OWww!!!!!!!! Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! EEEYAH!!!!! Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! Oh _f_u_c_k_, man, STOP!!!!!
Now while spank whores like me love the spontaneous tricks of domination our "betters" love to pull on their buttboys, we also plan and set up things, such as those creamy white Bill Blass briefs that I'd let John know I would be wearing and that he knew he was free to tear to shreds without regret. They even had a tiny hole started just under the waistband in the very back, so that after John had felt up my squirming cheeks to his satisfaction, he could work the tip of his finger into that little hole and enlarge it and then finally start ripping the thin white cotton while I cried out in phony protest,
"Jesus, you're ripping the underpants right off my naked ASS!"
RRRRRRIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!! "Hey, what the _f_u_c_k_KKKKK!!"
Ahhh. More delicious, embarrassing freedom for my buttcheeks, _c_o_c_k_ and balls.
You know, guys, my theory is that guys who appear around other men in underwear like these DESERVE to have them ripped right off of their body. Don't you agree?
John is in heaven now (as he told me later) because at last he has my essentially bare white ass across his lap at last, and it is every bit the fine, beefy, round, white spankable butt I promised it would be.
I can't quite remember how John initiated the bare assed spanking vebally, but soon he was raining flat palmed blows sharply down on my twin buttcheeks and ignoring my cries as he picked up speed and relished the spanky, slappy fleshy report of his man's hands on my rump. He has pulled off my Hawaiian shirt and hiked my white A-shirt up around my pecs sort of Michelangelo dying captive style so that he has clear access to my ass.
As an expert spanker, John knows just when to pause with the spanks while my butt cheeks radiate with angry warmth, so that I really feel and experience the whole process. He also takes these intervals as an opportunity to introduce himself to my ass crack as well, pulling my cheeks apart and fingering my pucker and even starting to kiss my butt cheeks and move his scratchy bearded face closer to my guy hole. He's stroking my _c_o_c_k_ as well, which is responding in a steady throb.
I enjoy reacting to this verbally, alternately protesting in honor of my manhood and gasping and cooing like an easy slut in the back seat on prom night. Then the blows start again and my big white and pink ass starts to smart like hell, and I'm really struggling.
Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! NOooo!!! Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! God, that Smarts!! Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! OUCH! OUCH! Stop!!! Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! OWww!!!!!!!!
Then suddenly there's more warmth and butt play from John.
"You love it, don't you, Stroker? youlove getting your ass..."
"Uhhhh!"
"... rubbed, squeezed and..."
"Oh, YEAHHHHHHHH."
"... probed..."
"_f_u_c_k_, yes, John. Oh please, don't stop..."
"...almost as well as you love getting your ass SPANKED RED HOT AND BURNING!"
Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! Yesssss! Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! Oh, yeah!!!!! Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! God! Smmmmmmaaaaaaacccckkkkkkkk! Oh, man!!!!!
Right about now I look up and over the edge of the couch where my wall is covered in mirror tile, and I watch my own face acting in the bespectacled nerd role of the day, pretending exasperated shame while over my shoulders and the hiked up A-shirt my tanned back recedes to a pair of rumpy, humpy white assglobes that are getting pinker with every blow of the expert male hands that are slapping them. I gaze at and then past John as he's working my ass over in his long-sleeved white button-down shirt and black jeans, and observe the sprawl of my sturdy, tanned biker swimmer's legs, spread apart just far enough to suggest awkward submission to John's domination, the white socks and black shoes of the typical porn actor in clear view.
John takes my polaroid camera and starts taking a series of pictures of me, which we enjoy together as he uses them to 'shame' me to my face. This scene continues for a long time, with vigorous spankings that test my butt's endurance. I come close to thinking I'll have to use my safe word, but each blow ends up being absorbed by my super spankable ass, and I am able to keep my bottom boy dignity.
However, the scene ends with my first orgasm. I have been manipulated off of the couch and onto the round coffee table that sits just in front of the couch. I am on my stomach and raising my chest up with my elbows on the table as I submit to the final stretch of this male to male marathon. I take one polaroid back at John while in this position. In it, you see him hovering above my reddened ass cheeks, just about to grab them again.
Now, in the finale, my middle is stretched across the open space between couch and table, so I can stroke my stiff rod. My big thighs are parted and my legs wrap around John's forward thrust chest as he buries his bearded face...OHHH...in my roughly parted butt cheeks....Mmmmmm. He is tongue _f_u_c_k_ing..._d_a_m_n_... my itching manpucker , oh god, oh god, and driving me wild with his...ahhhhh... lips in my hairy crack.
John _f_u_c_k_ing LOVES eating a man's ass. I knew that but oh _f_u_c_k_, I didn't REALLY find out until that moment, sprawled across my own living room coffee table in nothing but my hiked up undershirt, socks and shoes, when he works open my manhole and wriggles himself all the way into it in a wet, wild way that finally puts me over the edge. As I gasp with my approaching orgasm, he dives his tongue even deeper..OH!..and burrows his hairy hard chin into my tender butt canal until I cry out...AHHHHHH!!!!!..... and explode lob after lob of hot jizz.....all over my wool rug under the table.
_f_u_c_k_, I don't care. It'll wash up later.
We took a long break after this and grabbed some lunch downtown. Once back at my place we were instantly at it again. He stripped me in my kitchen while forcing me to bend forward over my small oak table. After spanking and face-_f_u_c_k_ing my ass, he has me on my back on the table with my legs up in the air and over his shoulders, at which point he starts sucking my _c_o_c_k_ like the man of experience and authority that he is. I went wild. I _f_u_c_k_ing LOVED it.
He'd go back and forth between my tight hot manpussy and my hard dick, as though he couldn't make up his mind which tasted better. Getting eaten at my own kitchen table like a hot supper was a delicious act of possession on his part. I enjoyed the knowledge that the only thing keeping me from total exposure to my next door neighbors was the thin set of Venetian blinds on the window in front of the table.
My second orgasm took place in my spare room across the bed. He'd brought a bunch of sports clothes that he had me dress up in. They included a classic jockstrap, black gym shorts with a drawstring, and another white A-shirt. He took several pictures of this scene as it progressed, and I really love looking at them now. My big red ass looks all round and rumpy, and my butthole is winking at the camera.
What he basically did was take this boxcutter kind of knife and cut up these clothes while they were on my body. It was a tiny bit scary because of the knife, but so _f_u_c_k_ing fun with someone you trust--and even though it was our first time in the flesh, I knew I could trust John.
He cut a hole in the rear of those gym shorts and ripped open a bigger hole so he could play with my ass and spank it. Eventually he ripped the shorts completely off, cut the A shirt to shreds and finally after spanking me severely in just the jock strap, cut them to shreds ass well. I jacked myself off to an explosive orgasm on my knees on the bed with his finger working its way in and out of my guy twat and the shreds of those sports clothes hanging from my limbs.
We laughed and kissed and rested for about an hour on the bed and then he packed up and left me glowing in the sticky, sweaty, throbbing, radiating warmth of a total spanking and ass workout. Lots of equipment he brought--like studded leather restraints--he never ended up using on me, to my regret. Certainly he'll get another chance!.
John has vowed next time to milk FOUR orgasms out of me the next time he gets his hands on me. Oh _f_u_c_k_, am I in for it!