Thursday, 6 June 2013

Daydreaming in class

Some facts about spanking, texting makes me horny, and I have to get studying.

Work avoidance is my greatest inspiration, sex my biggest distraction. A few messages from my new texting friend in which he says he is looking forward to getting to know "far more of me, far more deeply" make an afternoon lecture pass in a pleasant haze of groin ache. I catch only four words in every five and absorb almost nothing.

Roll on next week when I hope to see him again.

It comes as an unpleasant shock to find out my end of year exams are only three weeks away and everyone else in the class is already preparing for them. I've been in such a tunnel with the break-up and thinking about sex. I will have to make a revision plan - tomorrow! It will be a fantastic excuse to not look for paid work.

Kate came around yesterday to talk about spanking and getting paid for it. We sat in the sun in my garden. There was a brief pause when my neighbour came out to talk to me about our recycling collection. Kate thought it was hilarious that I lead a double life in which I organise sex parties and talk to my neighbour about these things. I assure her that I am a good person to live next to in that regard. I am trustworthy and reliable and I care about thing issues like recycling.

We return in low voices to our discussion. Sadly the hourly rate is not quite what I had hoped (I was having grandiose thoughts of £100 per hour) but I don't let on. Kate is mischievous, gregarious and beautiful. She is little more than half my age but has more confidence and is more sexually outgoing than I will ever be.

She tells me that other people have also asked her about spanking but I am the first she has taken seriously. She says this is because I am very confident, very open-minded, unshockable, with a sense of humour, and a pervert. I feel rather nervous when Kate tells me this about myself but naturally reveal nothing of the sort. Putting on a front is one of my superpowers.

I remember a spanking I received once from a business-type in a flat near a city square known for its theatres. He strapped me down at my request and skillfully gave me a beating that left the backs of my legs and behind purple for days afterward. Then he took me naked on his knee and stroked my clit until I came, which didn't take long I'll confess. I refused to kiss him and he didn't insist. He walked me down to street level and we went our separate ways. It was an interesting experience I have no regrets about. I know now that some men will pay a lot of good money for this.

I don't seek one-on-one experiences but the parties Kate goes to sound like a good place to start. This is what I learn from Kate about the world of spanking parties:

1. There are loads of them going on all over the city, from big spank-athons to small parties for a dozen or so men and girls, which is what Kate prefers.

2. Most of the people on that scene know each other and are very decent and respectful. A few rotters take the piss, but girls are generally warned about them and are even protected from them. If anyone oversteps the mark they are shunned.

3. At the parties men outnumber the women two to one. The CP starts with over-the-knee spanking. Then you move up the implements (paddles, flogs etc) to the cane. Canes are the worst. You only get hit with the cane at the end.

4. The clients are mostly aged 50 and over. They tend to be wealthy businessmen. The youngest women are 21; the queen bees (the ones who have been doing it the longest and have the most kudos) are in their 40s. I am relieved when I hear this. I don't want to be the oldest.

5. There is nudity and looking but no sex, no sexual touching, no sexual services expected or given. But a spanking in which one's knickers aren't pulled down and one isn't on display is hardly a spanking at all. I would expect this to happen.

Actually there's more but these are the salient points and it's enough to convince me I should try it out. The least I will come out of a foray into this world with is a pink bum, a few hundred quid and an anecdote to last a lifetime. As I don't intend to have grandchildren it doesn't really matter whether I can tell them or not.

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