In high school, I just wanted to fit in.  How unusual is that, right?  When you're shy, it isn't easy.  I stopped taking piano lessons, because I was too self-conscious to play in front of anyone anyhow.  

I decided to become a jock, despite being almost totally non-athletic. When I was cut from the softball team, a mercy killing really, I stayed on as the statistician.  Before that, I had managed to stick on the junior varsity volleyball team, mostly because they needed bodies. I wasn't much good to start, but by my senior year I actually made varsity.  Although I wasn't a starter, my specialty of being a "setter" got me rotated into the lineup during most games.  The butt slaps from my teammates when I did well were the best part.

And of course I discovered sex.  Well, it was more of a desire for sex, that I handled in solitary fashion.  My fantasies, though, were not just about sex.  As you may have guessed, they were, often as not, about being spanked.  For by now, my interest in spanking was no longer a detached curiosity, but gradually had become a raging desire.  

Slowly but surely, I collected a small arsenal - a hairbrush, a ping pong paddle, a couple different rulers, a wooden spoon.    Instinctively, I recognized anything that would make a good implement, and would sneak it up to my room.  And I tried them out - standing in front of the mirror, lying on the bed, bending over a chair, with my pants off and panties pulled down.  I found out that I was a wimp - even though I wanted to do it harder, I would chicken out, leaving my butt pink, not red.  It was still enough of a rush that fingering myself afterwards brought spectacular results.

My prize was a souvenir paddle I bought down at the Jersey  shore, where my family vacationed almost every summer. Having discovered it in a tacky gift shop, I coveted it all week.  A little over a foot long, and several inches wide, it had an outline of the Jersey shore on one side, with the big tourist-y towns all marked.   On the other side, though, was a girl in a bikini, her back turned so that you could see her butt, with a slogan down one edge reading "For Your Beach Bum."  Several times that week, I found myself re-visiting that store to admire the merchandise. I had to have it.  Finally, the day before we were to head home, I got up the courage to buy it.   It is still one of my favorites.

Of course, I knew all of this was weird, too weird to tell anyone.  Whether anyone else noticed or not, I knew I was a freak.  At volleyball practice, hanging with my friends at lunchtime, going to church on Sunday, I may have seemed normal enough, but inside I knew how perverted I was.

During my junior year I acquired my first boyfriend.  I joined the staff of the school newspaper, working as a proofreader and occasional reporter. David was assistant editor, in line to become editor our senior year.  He quickly took me under his wing, showing me the ropes at the paper.  Within a few weeks, he asked me to the movies, and before long we made it official that we were going steady.  I had never had so much as a single date before that. It was a long time, not until the end of the following summer, before we had sex.  He was as inexperienced as I was.  We were both "good kids," more prone to living up to the expectations of our parents than those of our friends, until, of course, the hormones got to be too much.

I never so much as hinted to David about my desire to be spanked.  I desperately wanted to be normal.  If everyone else thought I was normal, perhaps eventually I could be.  Sharing my dirty little secret would not only be terribly embarrassing, it couldn't possibly help. Knowing that my desires for sex and spanking were intertwined, I hoped that finally in engaging in the first would quench my desire for the second.  No such luck.   Coming home from David's after losing my virginity, I was compelled to have a session with my favorite paddle, not because I felt a need for punishment, but because  I still needed to get off.


2/22/2013 08:57:49 pm

No, not a freak. I am male but I identify with you 100%. Fortunately, my wife is kind enough to indulge me and with 4 teenage children and an extended family it can be difficult to find the right moment. For us, Saturday nights seem to be the best and, yes, I have a warm, tingly bottom right now. Life is good.


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