A spanking story for the new year
We – my closest, most intimate friends, have a little New Year’s Eve tradition.
Whilst others gather in loud, gaudy parties, we assemble for a quiet night in. Just us, no partners. As midnight approaches, we dim the lights and take turns to tell stories. It began when we were still at school, as a simple retelling of the most enjoyable experiences of our past twelve months. But as we’ve all become more worldly-wise, the salaciousness of our ritual has escalated, until now it’s a time to confess to each other The Naughtiest Thing we did last year.
We play for higher stakes now too. We four friends sit pantyless in a circle, holding our favourite dildos beneath our best party frocks, drawing lots to determine the order of when we tell our stories. The jeopardy is simple: if any of our stories make any one of our friends climax, the storyteller earns the right to demand the offender pays a forfeit. Traditionally, spankings have been popular forfeits, the loser seeing in the new year naked, facing the wall with their pink bottom on display. But we’re getting increasingly creative too.
This year, the topic is more provocative still.
What’s The Naughtiest Thing you’ve ever done?
And now, it’s my turn to speak.
The Naughtiest Thing I’ve ever done… I announce solemnly, my gaze roving across my friends’ expectant eyes… was when I was 19, and I brought my first boyfriend home.
I paused for effect, letting assumptions paint themselves within my audience’s minds. Scenes assembled from the palettes of their own experiences. I knew each and every one had all been just as naughty as me.
Though actually, as it happened, my tale did not take place in my childhood home. My dad’s eldest sister lived closer to where my boyfriend and I went to university, and so I decided we’d visit and stay for the weekend. My aunt is quite a presence, I think he was quite intimidated when I introduced them both, when she looked him right in eyes and told him in no uncertain terms, that she hoped he’d behave himself in her home. He looked at his shoes and stammered like a guilty little boy. And inside, I giggled.
The next day, as my aunt attended to domestic chores, I lead my boy out into the large garden. It was a beautifully warm late Spring day, and I led the way to the sun terrace, hidden from the house by a tunnel of overgrown pergolas. Shall we bask in the sun? I asked him, before lifting my dress to reveal my skimpiest bikini underneath. His eyes widened even more dramatically when I asked him if he’d like to put his hand inside and feel my breasts. He nodded vigorously, but I made him take off his own clothes first, stripping down to his own underwear.
I let him cup me with his right hand, then asked if he’d like me to take everything off. When he said yes, I insisted he went first. He pulled down his boxer shorts and I followed suit, so we were now standing in front of each other naked.
It was so thrilling, so illicit. My slit was so tingly and wet, I couldn’t keep my eyes off his rapidly swelling cock. His hands slipped down my body, as if pulled by a magnet hidden in my crotch. I felt his hot fingers cup my cunt. I felt the world around me fade into irrelevance, like everything around us was a rather mediocre memory.
But no matter how wonderful the experience, one must always remember it is simply a bubble in a world that moves to its own rules. When you’re distracted, others make their own moves, and sometimes your little sanctuary is interrupted. Moments later, as he massaged my moistening lips with his fingertips, my aunt caught us…
A brand new story for the new year, in case you missed it…