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David (Erotic (gay))
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Date Posted: 16:56:55 04/25/15 Sat
Mentor
I
Brian has been one of the most important people in my life, a partner and mentor. When I first met him, he was in his early 40s; a big, handsome, tanned, strong guy, not even a little bit fat, fairly tall (just over six feet), completely masculine, broad-shouldered, hairy-chested, fit. At that time he had a trim but somewhat wild beard and moustache, which was slightly redder than his light brown, unkempt hair. In other words, man of my dreams. His smile could be infectious and he’s always been funny and smart, but he can also be stern and serious. He’s never mean, exactly, but he’s always taken his avocation as a male-on-male disciplinarian seriously, and when it’s time for ass-whippin’ (which is really quite often), he gets serious fast. Someone meeting him casually wouldn’t take him for gay or into leather, bondage, S&M, or fetishes, or a biker; necessarily, although he did share some aspects of that ‘look’ at that time (he’s more clean cut these days). He is and always has been exclusively into men sexually, and he and I share this thing for male on male spanking and discipline, but otherwise, he actually wasn’t any of those things. When I met him, he seemed soft spoken and talked freely about science and technology, which interested him, and easily carried on an intelligent conversation on any subject. I didn’t know it at the time, but, while not super rich, he’s lucky enough to be independently wealthy from some family money. A catch, for sure, for somebody who’s into what he’s into. But he was pretty selective. Particular, and discriminating, he’d have said.
There were two things that got us together in the first place. First and most important was the fact that I just happened to be a really good match for what he was looking for, and the other thing was a personal ad he put on a rough and ready social networking site that existed then (this was 1999, before smartphones). The site was devoted especially to guys who liked spanking, BDSM, and related “fetishes.” Thank God for the Internet, I say, even in those early days. We both lived near a big Western city at that time, (me in an apartment in a “gay” part of town and he in a suburban area full of big ranch houses, his with a big lot and a bunch of trees—it was like a miniature forest). So I guess it was unlikely we would have ever met if he hadn’t put up that ad. Later he told me it was kind of a lark… he hadn’t really had that much trouble finding guys to spank and play with, but he thought, what the hell, might as well lay out exactly the kind of “boy” he was hoping to find, and see what happened. Like me, he’d been frustrated by how hard it is when you have a “thing” like this to find somebody really sympatico. He got several responses to his ad, and had some encounters with other guys as a result (lots of gay men at least think the idea of getting spanked is hot), but ultimately, meeting me was what happened.
This was his ad (it made quite an impression on me, obviously, and I saved a copy):
“SERIOUS SPANKER, 42, fit, good looking, masculine, bearded, brown/blue. Looking for a boy who knows he needs frequent hard, bare-butt spanking, with guidance, support and direction, from a dominant man. Looking for more than just a hookup. I am a stable, skillful spanker; 90% top but I get it too once in a while to keep things in perspective. Hand on bare butt is just a start, expect paddles, straps, hairbrush, occasionally other implements for variety. Bread and butter is OTK with a paddle, but other styles too. Flexible, supportive, caring, emotionally stable, successful, own home. You: 22-42 or so; age not critical but the chemistry has to work. Good shape, decent looking, seriously into spanking since boyhood with at least some experience, employed or full-time student, comfortable with who you are and know what you want. Spanking should be your main erotic fantasy, if it isn’t, please don’t waste my time or yours. Real discipline, fantasy, some role play, all possible. If you’re a “boy” who needs serious discipline, support, guidance and direction in your life, I could be the man you’re looking for. Consensual, safe, and sane, but this works best if you genuinely want to expand limits and take it hard, long and often for your man. I’m versatile, sex is negotiable, whatever works. If this sounds like you, reply with private message to Brian with face picture and your REAL first name, and I’ll send you mine and we’ll go from there. You never know what might happen.”
When I saw this I got an instant hard-on. It seemed too right on to be true; like a perfect match, key in the lock, all that. I clicked with everything he put in it. But every now and then you do really click with someone. It happens. I know. Now.
There’s always a little bit of trepidation in these things (if there isn’t, you aren’t being realistic). But after a few minutes I decided for sure I was going to answer this. I took my time thinking about exactly what I wanted to say.
Here’s what I wrote back (about an hour later and a dozen attempts to word it the way I wanted):
“Brian: Since you asked for a real name, I will be totally straight with you. Well, not totally straight—I only like men! But honest. My name is Kevin. I’m 25, in pretty good shape, 5’9”, 165lbs. Pic attached. As you can see, I’m a “ginger.” I’ve found guys to spank me (or spank) a bunch of times, but it’s never come together as a regular thing or really satisfied that need. Mostly they didn’t seem to understand that spanking isn’t just playing; there’s a serious part of it, too, and it needs to be real. From your ad it seems you get that. I read your ad carefully, and I think I might be a good match. You mention guidance and direction, as well as discipline, and who knows? That may be just what I need. I want to be a boy who needs it and will “take it hard for my man,” but I may need some patience to get there. I’d like to meet you and see what develops.”
After a full minute of hesitation, I hit send. When nothing happened right away, I logged off, rubbing my hard-on through my pants (this was really exciting to me, but I have to admit at that age it seemed like I always had a hard-on). Then I got up and went out for a while, to get a bite to eat. Nothing ventured nothing gained and all that. No smartphones then, remember, so I couldn’t check on things while I was out.
When I came home about an hour later, nothing. Well, what can you expect? It was Thursday evening, about 6:30. I had to go to work the next day, but God was all this anticipation making me horny! I had a roommate (not a lover, just a roommate), but he was out somewhere. I started to pull open my fly to massage my (new) hard-on a bit, and ping, there it was. A reply. With a picture of a dreamy, 40ish but good looking woodsy kinda guy, bearded and longish hair, with a sly smile, bright and bright, intense blue eyes, wearing a flannel shirt, open a couple buttons to reveal a hairy (but not too hairy) chest. Oh my God. He was just my type. And there was something in his look that told me he was friendly and cheerful, but when the time came, he’d know what to do with a paddle. I started to flush with excitement. Really. Red neck and chest and everything, including a full blown stiffy. I was surprised at myself. Just from fantasizing about a man I hadn’t even met yet I was about to come in my pants.
“Hey, Kevin. Sounds great, love your pic, give me a call. Let’s get together and try it out. We can meet in a neutral place if you want. /Brian”
There was a phone number. I sat there, peering at the picture on the screen for at least a couple of minutes.
Oh, my God. There were butterflies… me, who thought of himself as pretty self-assured. Comfortable in my skin. Comfortable with my “thing,” which I didn’t share with just anyone, but I wasn’t ashamed of. (After all, most people, even gay men, are very judgmental). I came from a family of Irish Catholics, although (mostly) fallen away for more than a generation. I’ve fantasized about spanking, especially getting spanked, since I was 12 or so, and it’s definitely been my main turn-on since I was old enough to get a hard-on. Didn’t come from getting spanked as a boy (as I wasn’t); in fact, where this comes from is a mystery to me, but it’s there and I came to terms with it. I’d had encounters before; a lot, really, starting when I was 19. One guy was even a regular. He was a “Dad,” about 50, not too bad looking, and he was divorced and lived alone. He liked to use a belt. Not a lot of talking. I went over to his place a couple times a month and he whipped my bare butt with his thick black belt, usually bent over a chair with my pants and underwear down around my knees (which, don’t get me wrong, can be very hot). No sex, just whipping. He got hard under his pants, which I couldn’t help but notice, but he didn’t take it out. I didn’t push it because, purely sexually, he wasn’t really my type. This filled a need, for him, and for me, and when he figured out I could and would take a good strapping that lasted a long time, he wanted to get together pretty often. But something was definitely lacking, and it was me that kept it to just a couple times a month, even though I was horny and thinking about getting spanked just about all the time the rest of the days. I sometimes even hooked up with other “bottoms,” either to switch in the same session, or I’d spank them, which I admit I enjoyed about as much as their rather unsatisfactory attempts to spank me—I even think I was pretty good at it, judging from the reactions I got. I had a little collection of paddles, straps, and floggers. Floggers and “play” paddles and such weren’t really my thing, but some guys like to go through the motions without it really hurting. For me that was a cheat, but I would do it now and then. It could be pretty hot, actually, to be the spanker. Once in a while. I had to restrain myself, because I wanted to spank them the way I liked to get it, and most of ’em couldn’t take that. I got good at gauging that. But my main turn-on was being a bottom. Both getting spanked and sexually.
Most of the guys I’d hooked up with, over the few years I’d been “out” to myself with this, on the basis that we’d do spanking, were really just looking to get laid or get their dicks sucked off. Spanking was just exotic foreplay, which they could take or leave, and most of ’em, truth be known, would just as soon leave it and go straight to the f**k ng and sucking. I was pretty careful with all that, and wouldn’t f**k or get f**k d even with a condom unless I knew and really trusted the guy and he was negative and knew that for sure. I know, I know, it’s judgmental; it’s pretty safe with a condom, etc. But I just didn’t do it, and there were a string of guys who lost interest in me quick because I wouldn’t let them f**k me. No great loss. Usually by then I was already looking to find someone who wanted to do what I really wanted anyway. f**k ng could be really hot, don’t get me wrong, in fact I am really into it, but it was the bare-ass discipline that I really craved. This series of casual encounters I was having wasn’t really doing it for me.
The upshot of all this is that I had some experience, both vanilla and my “thing,” but I had never really been in a long term relationship. A few boyfriends lasted a few weeks or a couple months, but that was it. And I’d never developed a strong emotional attachment to any of them. I was even beginning to wonder was I capable of love? Did my “thing” mean I was stuck with meaningless encounters? And all that youthful angst. I stopped well short of depression about it. I was pretty sensible. But I definitely had a yearning for something more. Much more.
Turned out, as I found out later, Brian, who was a lot older than me, had had similar experiences, but from more of a top’s point of view. I guess I was just lucky. He found me early. He’d been looking around a long time. He’d had a few relationships, but they hadn’t really worked out. And he had play partners on an ongoing basis, of course, but that wasn’t what he really wanted in his heart of hearts. I can’t say I know everything that went on with him (he has a mysterious streak), but I got to know him well enough to know that at the time we met we both were looking for a deeper connection with someone who shared the essential element. Our thing.
Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself. Here I was staring at a picture on a computer screen of a man who, just looking at him, with his clothes on, got me hard. Imagining him with a paddle in his hand, getting ready to spank the bejeezuz out of my bare butt, with my pants down around my ankles. God, that was hot. Something told me this man could really be different from anyone I’d encountered before. Well, better not let expectations get ahead of me. I should just call him, right now… but, Sh*t! I hesitated. What if…? What if he’s a scary creep? Better be careful! But he doesn’t look like a creep. Or sound like one in his ad. “Consensual, safe, sane.” “Neutral place.” But everybody says that. Oh God. This kind of worrying back and forth about it lasted about five minutes. Then I picked up. The phone. And keyed. The number. Slow-ly.
When he answered the phone, I actually had to repress the impulse to hang up. I was really nervous, for some reason. But I summoned the resolve to soldier on.
“This is Brian.” Unusual way to answer your home phone, but it told me it was him. (Just like Brian. Very pragmatic).
“Hi, Brian. It’s Kevin. From the website. Thing.”
“Oh, Kevin. Right. Red hair, cute boy. Glad you called. Really glad you called. You sound hot, like a young man in need of a good strong older man to give him a good spanking in the worst way. Am I right?”
Oh wow. Direct all right. But what the hell. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“OK, look, let’s get straight to the meeting part, if you’re up to it. I don’t like beating around the bush too much. We can meet for coffee or something if you want, and you can size me up, and vice versa. This works both ways. If we both feel good about it, we’ll go from there. For my part, I’m not worried at all. Wow. I always seem to like redheads. And you’re obviously an intelligent young man. But a young man in need of discipline, which is my forte. And I get a feeling you’ll be game when we actually meet each other.”
“Me too, Brian. God, this is exciting. OK, where do you want to meet me? When?”
“No time like now. Are you free tonight? Let’s do this. No pressure, but there’s no better way to find out if we click than to get together and see.”
We agreed to meet at a coffee place out in his part of town, at 8. Which was only a half hour away. “Don’t be late, or you’ll get extra. Or maybe that’s an incentive,” he said. Ooh. He was teasing me. And I loved it. Then he said, “you know what I look like, and I know what you look like, so just come in and sit down; we’ll find each other.”
I just turned off the anxiety attack bullshit as best I could and got ready. I took a quick shower and, impulsively, I used an an*l douche, too (the “pussy boy’s friend,” as my friend Mark calls it). Sh*t, it isn’t romantic, but sexually at least I believed in the Boy Scout motto: be prepared. I didn’t expect to let this guy I hadn’t even met yet f**k me, but he was hot, and, well, you just never now. Nothing wrecks the atmosphere, or a good f**k , like having to stop everything and go to the bathroom and do an enema. Or, well, there are worse possibilities. (Young men of discretion are careful about such things, as Mark would say).
I put on some faded jeans and a tee shirt. I figured out how to get to the address of the place where he’d told me to meet him (not a part of town I was intimately familiar with), and drove out there. It was about three miles; I arrived ten minutes early. I’m pretty good at finding my way around to places where I’ve never been. I went in, thinking I’d have a few minutes to collect my thoughts at least. Once or twice in the past— OK several times, I’d set up things like this and been stood up (maybe they saw me and left, which is ego-deflating). But I didn’t have Brian figured for somebody who’d do that. Well, as it turned out, not hardly. There he was. He was early too. I hesitated just a second, then walked over and sat at the little table where he was reading a paper and sipping a coffee with cream in it.
“Aha. Kevin. Right on time. Early, even. Anxious, I see. This is good. Real good.” He lowered his voice and quipped: “a boy who’s gonna get a butt whippin’ should be a little anxious.” He looked up and gave me a beautiful, big toothy smile, eyes twinkling, and he reached out his big muscular hand, which I took and grasped as firmly as I dared. He squeezed but only just a bit, not a death grip. Perfect, actually, to communicate strength and a hint of dominance. I felt a little stir in my dick. Which blossomed almost instantly into half-hard. This guy really turned me on.
A little small talk. I declined the coffee he offered to get me. Too keyed up. Then he said, “Well, we can’t really talk in depth here. Y’know. Prying ears. What do you say? Want to come back to my place with me? No commitments, but if you want it, it’s there for you. If you decide you wanna take off after a bit, that’s fine, I totally respect that. I can tell already I like you, Kevin, so it’s up to you.”
So, even though I had told myself I’d just meet him for coffee and go no further than that tonight, I ended up following him the ten blocks or so, up a windy street on a low hill, to his big sprawling ranch style house. The neighborhood was wooded, with bike paths and walking trails and such. He told me to park in the driveway, so I did. He went in through the garage, then met me, surprisingly quickly, at the front door. “Come in, come in. Make yourself comfortable — for now.” That grin again. I blushed. Blushed bright red. Me. Self-assured, got it together Kevin. I didn’t think of myself as a blusher. We stood there in the entry for a very long moment, and he looked me in the eyes, smiling softly at me. His eyes were pale blue but intense. Then he reached up slowly and stroked my face, the gentlest stroke imaginable from a big, strong man.
“God, you’re beautiful. But don’t let it go to your head. You’re the boy, better not forget that.”
I blushed again. Then I followed him into the big, slightly cluttered living room, and we sat down for a “little talk.”
II
I sat on the couch, him on the chair next to it diagonally. He sat forward in the chair, hands on his knees and engaged me fully. He set me at ease and we just talked for a while. I told him my life story in brief; he told me a little of his. Our experiences were similar in a lot of ways, although he was a lot older than me so he’d been through more changes. And of course, he was more of a top, dominant type. But we both had to deal with being different. He told me it’d been hard for him to come to terms with our “thing,” back when he was younger, but that once he’d finally accepted it, he was a lot happier. He had worked at companies in Silicon Valley as some kind of electronics engineer, but now, at 42, with more money (mostly inherited) than he knew what to do with, he had retired. Worked on music, woodworking, his “forest garden,” other stuff he enjoyed and was passionate about. I was starting to envy him.
In the course of talking, he slyly covered what seemed like sort of a checklist for him. How into role play was I? Did I want him to be dominant all the time? (A little, but not 24-7; I liked to get spanked, but not enact whole dramatic scenes about it, and most of the time I just liked to relax and relate to the other guy like anybody else). Did I like it to push to the edge and over, so it really hurt? (Hell, yeah. I am into this; it’s not just for pitty pat playtime). Favorite implements? (Hand for warm-up, then paddle, sometimes strap). Other stuff, like leather, bondage, t*t clamps, etc.? (Not really; restraint maybe once in a while for really serious sessions). Positions? (OTK, or lying on bed for the strap; others for variety). Cuddling and/or sex after spanking? (Sure … I didn’t say, but thought, with you, whatever you want, sir). Sucking (some, but prefer…) f**k ng? (after I get to know someone and really trust them, with protection). Both ways, sexually? (Sure, but mostly a bottom). What about spanking? Ever a top? (Again, sure, but, hey, I really am mostly a bottom). Like I said, this wasn’t a grilling. He managed to work all these points, and a few others, into a very cultured and engaged conversation that hit on other topics. Getting to know each other. He was testing me a little, but also showing me that he was a human being with complex mind and feelings, who just happened to share this erotic dimension that clicked totally with my own. That made me happy. And I got the distinct impression, which also made me very happy, that from his point of view, I gave all the right answers. And everything I said to him was true. This was just as important to me as it obviously was to him.
He became more animated and seemed really happy to have met me. I was starting to feel high just from being with him, which was a pretty rare feeling for me. I felt all aglow. I have to admit, though, the one about me being a spanker was hard for me to fit in context, just meeting him that night. I couldn’t actually imagine topping him. He was totally the man, the top, in my mind. I was the boy. But he had said that in his ad too, and there was something kind of comforting in the idea that there were times when he’d take his own medicine. I liked that.
There was a pause. We’d been talking about half an hour. It was about quarter to nine. He’d moved onto the couch with me, and was touching me a little as we talked, stroking my leg a little, stuff like that. I was sitting there talking to him with a raging hard on (which he had to have been aware of). He was a little hard, too, I could see under his pants, and it was a big dick. I’m not some super size queen, but, holy crap, it’s a plus. Whoever says it isn’t probably isn’t quite telling the truth. He was hot to trot, no doubt about it, and so was I. We both knew it was time to move on from “getting acquainted.” All of a sudden, he said, “Well, Kevin, isn’t it about time for your spanking? It’s painfully obvious you want it and need it.” He gave me a stern look, but he put his hand on my jeans right where my hard-on was bulging. Felt me up, for Christ sake. Oh god. But I have to admit, I loved it. I wanted this man. And I wanted him first of all to spank me. Right now.
I looked at him, and he raised his eyebrows just a hair. I don’t know how I knew, but I understood this to mean I should show him respect as my disciplinarian, now, not just be casual as we had been up till then. “Yes, sir. I deserve it.” I said it so quietly I barely heard it myself.
“Every boy deserves it. Only the lucky ones get it. And today’s you’re lucky day, Kevin.”
For a moment, he pulled back and just stared at me. Finally: “well, stand up, Kevin. Get over here.”
“Yes, sir.” I wasted no time. This was familiar territory for me.
I stood before him, facing him, and he reached out and undid all the buttons on my jeans, and hooked his fingers over both the hem of the jeans and the underwear. He yanked them down to mid-thigh, in one motion. My fully hard dick flopped out. I’m just average, but I was so hard it almost hurt.
He took his shirt off and repositioned himself slightly then took my arm, firmly but not squeezing it. He pulled gently while ordering me: “get over, boy.” He pulled me into a classic OTK position, slightly angled so my head was over the couch, and my legs stuck out, my whole body arched so my butt was up and ready for his hand. He put his right arm around the small of my back and held me like that, with my butt angled up, ready to be smacked.
FWHACK! That first smack was almost literally electric. His big hand could cover most of my whole butt, and he slapped hard. With each smack, he raised his arm and brought it down hard. It was fast-paced; a very hard spanking, bare hand on bare butt. He covered every corner of my butt in hard, continuous-rhythm spanking, for what had to have been more than five minutes, without a break. I was squirming and grunting, but not crying out. I was determined to be a “tough bottom” for him right off the bat. Oh God, I thought, if this is a warm-up, banned word Christ. Oh God! Towards the end he accelerated the pace, and it got even harder, which I swear to God, I wouldn’t have thought possible. I was starting to hyperventilate just a bit (Breathe!... the spanking bottom’s universal mantra). SLAP-SLAP-SLAP-SLAPP! I think he must have smacked my ass about 500 times before, finally, he stopped. Everyone always says it, but really, my ass felt like it was on fire. I hadn’t been spanked for a few weeks before that, so I guess I was a bit tender. It’s really true that getting spanked a lot toughens you up. But anyway, Sh*t, that really hurt like hell, and it was just his hand. Oh God.
He pushed my body forward just a bit, then helped me up. I was still hard, despite the fiery pain. That was by far the hardest bare hand spanking I’d ever had, and it was continuous from start to finish with no warm-up. (It was the warm-up, I had to remind myself mentally). I looked at him sheepishly. My face was almost as red as my ass, I’m sure (it comes with the complexion), and I imagine it was a bit contorted with the pain. It really hurt. He could (and did!) spank harder with his hand than a lot of guys who thought of themselves as tough tops ever did with straps or paddles. Believe me, I knew.
Talk about a high, though. My mind was in a zone where the fiery burning of my hind end was mixed with pleasure and I was all but unable to speak. He looked at me piercingly, then suddenly broke into that infectious grin. “Good boy. You did good. Come here.”
He stood up. My pants were still down around my knees. I glanced at his crotch and…Oh my God… I could actually see the tip of his totally hard dick sticking up out of his pants. He was enjoying himself, that was for sure.
He drew me to him and hugged me, tightly, his dick under his pants right up against mine. I felt almost a paroxysm, like a shadow orgasm. I can’t explain it, but it was real. There was some kind of electricity between him and me, and this hard spanking had made it happen.
He kissed me. On the mouth. Lightly. Not just a peck, but not a French kiss either, just an affectionate kiss. He continued to hold me for a very long moment. He patted my butt, very lightly, then gave me one last, sharp slap, from an awkward angle, but it still flared hot for a second.
“Can you stay? I want you with me tonight.”
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