Tuesday, 1 February 2011

Men, Women, Spanking and Erections

Last week I posted a short story , Julia, about a young man and his girlfriend who though they ached for each other , for various reasons they had yet to consummate their relationship. The young man creates an excuse to give her a spanking, his idea being that once he has got her knickers down, everything else will fall into place. He is right, but at the same time they both discover they share a deep rooted spanking fetish that is an erotic pleasure in its own right.

As a result of one of the comments posted about it I thought I should explain a few things, though as is often the case with me I will go a little round the houses before I get to my point.

Let’s start with erections. Yes, I do love a good erection, hard springy urgent and eager. Not something that can be faked , and if you ask him “Do I look sexy in this?” its quivering response tells you far more than his words.

And even better, there’s ejaculations, the creamy spurt that can be anything from a snow scene or a narrow jet, the most graphic demonstration that what you have been doing to him or he to you was so exciting and wonderful that it lead him to quite literally erupt with pleasure.

And, here I have to make an assumption, I’m guessing that as with the female of the species that the pleasure he gets from his orgasm can vary from a soft whirlpool of unutterable joy to something explosive and feral. Yes, enough men have moaned and grunted and whispered to me how it was for them, but neither sex will ever know exactly what the others orgasms feel like. Both sexes have them, and both sexes crave them more than designer shoes and expensive cars, but what the other sexes actually feel like we’ll never know.

Where is all this leading? I’ll get there I promise. As a very female female I enjoy the company and the bodies of attractive strong men and all that implies, and when such a man gives me a certain look and tells me that there’s nothing wrong with me than an occasional spanking wouldn’t sort out, I melt, and when moments later I’m over their knee with my panties down and my bare bottom feeling the rain of his hand, every bit of me is soft and receptive and opening to what inevitably comes next.

It’s not the pain that turns me on, though that adds an enjoyable whiff of danger to it all, but the total surrender to his erotic authority over me. I love being turned into a naughty little girl being taught a lesson, and there’s another element to my punishment as well. Without fail giving me a spanking will have given him an erection on which I will shortly be impaled, moaning and writhing with the pleasure of it all.

Those of you who have been reading Sexuelle for a while know that although I am primarily heterosexual, that from time to time there are girls on my life and that my taste here is for the sweet and young and compliant, girls who mirror the way I am with the men in my life.

And no surprise with such girls I enjoy taking them across my knee, whispering that they need to be taught lesson as I lower their panties and revel in anticipation of spanking their sweet bottoms.

How I feel at these times is entirely different from when I am on the receiving end, and the best word for it is horny, and this is the only time I suffer with penis envy. As with when I am given a spanking it inevitably concludes with our having sex, but whereas under other circumstances mutual caressing and stimulating is what I want, after giving a spanking I want to fuck them, and without a penis that is not an option. On the other hand, as a girl I able to benefit from the multiple orgasm, so one thing tends to cancel out the other.

My short story, Julia that I posted last week was written from the man’s point of view. I originally l wrote it quite a while ago, but re-reading it put me back in the frame of mind I had to put myself in when first doing it. I had to try and think like a man, imagining sexual responses that were feral and predatory rather than my usual soft and submissive. In particular I tried all the time to imagine having a cock in my trousers that I could barely control but also which I could produce like a weapon at appropriate times the way men do, something which has a life of its own and tends to take over.

I hope I succeeded, and the responses I got from you suggest that I did. But answering your silent question, did writing from that point of view get me horny and excited and did I find myself breaking off occasionally to give my imaginary cock the relief it needed? Well, you’ll just have to make your own assumptions!