For some reason, I remembered something this morning from long ago. The memory warmed me; I hope it’ll warm you, too.
Let me take you back to when I was in college. I was in the full bloom of womanhood, fully developed sexually and just experimenting with this unexplored side of me. I’d had a couple sexual experiences, enough to know that I was different, that spanking was a huge part of my sexual make-up, and that, although I was strange, I wasn’t completely alone. There were others out there who shared my weird but fascinating fetish.
So I developed a way to divide the wheat from the chaff, to find out if a boy I was interested in was interested in spanking. After we’d made-out for a while, if I liked the way he kissed and fondled my breasts, I’d look at him like the girl above is doing. With that most seductive look on my face, I’d whisper to him, “I really should be spanked for all the naughty thoughts I’m having about you right now…”
I thought this was brilliant! If the boy picked up on my wavelength, he’d inquire about the spanking by saying something like, “Oh, you have an interest in spanking, do you?” If he was purely vanilla, he’d be on the wavelength of the “naughty stuff” and would inquire instead about that. If he followed-up on the spanking, we’d soon be engaged in that endeavor, and I could judge if he was a caring and considerate Top or not. If he expressed an interest only in the sexual stuff sans spanking, I’d complain about stomach problems, run and lock myself in the bathroom, tell him through the door that I had a bad case if diarrhea, and that our evening (and his future prospects) was over.
What would you do if a sweet young thing looked at you and said those magic words, “I really should be spanked for all the naughty thoughts I’m having about you right now…”? (Knowing my readership as well as I do, I think I know the answer…)