I found, one late, midsummer afternoon, that I was sick of Ryan spanking me, which came as a huge surprise. I’d always loved it, always gotten so hot, so wet, so, so, so turned on by each mouthwatering, cunt-wetting smack of his hand. Or our paddle; or our strap; or a spatula, once; or a dildo, which happened more than a few times, each with him taking turns sliding it in and out of my pussy, then hitting each cheek with a walloping thump. But this afternoon, bent over his knee, one whole year into our relationship, it just wasn't doing it for me. Well, fuck. I knew it was his favorite act, knew his last girlfriend had hated it—that had been one part of why they’d broken up. So I took each spank like I always did, pretending that I was having a hell of a lot of fun even though no, I really wasn't.
Once he was done, Ryan put on a condom, and I found I certainly still enjoyed this sex act, still enjoyed having his lovely cock fuck my pussy. I came, quick and intense, with only a few rubs of Ryan’s skilled middle finger. He came only moments later, growling and bucking against me.
We cleaned up and went out to dinner. But what to do about this problem? Did this mean more trouble down the line?
During dinner, Ryan noticed I wasn't my usual talkative self, and he tried to pry the reason out of me, but I refused to reveal what was causing my lips to mostly stay shut. After all, how could I tell him? Especially in a fancy restaurant like this.
“Maybe this will cheer you up, Toni,” Ryan said, one corner of his mouth turning up in what I’d always thought of as his “sexy-time grin.”
“Oh?” I asked. I swallowed the last of my chardonnay. I was more interested in what kinds of desserts the restaurant was serving than anything sexual at this point in time, but it certainly wasn’t dessert that always came along with said “sexy- time smile.”
“Yeah, it’s something waiting for us at home. In our bedroom. Consider it an anniversary present. Which, well, is kind of what it is.”
Now, a gift—that I could get behind. He’d always had exquisite taste in whatever he picked out for me, and while we’d agreed not to get each other anything for our anniversary (we were both a little light in our wallets at the moment), I had already thought once or twice that he might go ahead and get me something anyway. That was just what Ryan was like, always wanting to show me how much he loved me, even though all I needed to be reassured of his love were his words and his affection, something he still hadn’t realized, obviously, or he wouldn't have gotten me something.
“Then I suppose I’ll skip dessert.” I took Ryan’s hand and kissed it. “I already know I’ll love it, whatever it is. But you know you didn't have to get me anything.”
“Yes, I knew that, but I worked out a deal with someone, so you don’t have to worry about it costing us this month’s rent. It may not have been very pricey, but I have a feeling you’ll just love it,” Ryan said, and then he winked at me.
“Good. Well, let’s pay the check and head home, sweetie. I’m dying to find out what it is!”
We had walked there; the restaurant was only about three blocks from our building, and luckily, the night was pleasant, with a slight, warm breeze carrying along the scents of summer. Admittedly, I felt a little giddy at the thought that some kind of delightful (and probably sexual) surprise was waiting for me at our place. Whatever it was, I was sure it would align with Ryan’s always perfect taste. And it did, in a way, although it was nothing like what I’d expected.
When we got home, Ryan told me to wait about five minutes and then join him in the bedroom. I did as he said, and then, not knowing what to expect, I turned the doorknob and went inside. Ryan stood near the bed, completely naked, and sitting on the bed, wearing just as much as Ryan was—in other words, nothing at all—was one of the most gorgeous men I’d seen in all my days. Instead of being delighted, or overjoyed, maybe, that such a lovely specimen sat on our bed, I gasped, suddenly feeling a little light-headed. Ryan’s gift to me was a man? What on… what on earth had gotten into my boyfriend?
Yes, we’d talked, while fucking, about a third—always a man, because while Ryan was bi, I mostly wasn't—but talking was quite different than doing. Obviously. Why didn't Ryan realize that?
But when Ryan approached this fine, fine man, when the man stood, and reached up to Ryan’s head, trailing his fingers through Ryan’s thick hair, when he grabbed my boyfriend’s ponytail and yanked, hard, and when Ryan’s back bowed back from the pull of this man’s hand, I practically soaked through my panties. “Oh, my god…” I said, my voice quiet—reverent, almost. This was, quite possibly, the hottest thing I’d seen. Ever. In my entire life.
Cheeky Spanking stories is available from Cleis Press in print form.
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