STATEMENT OF JOHN ATKINSON 1

There are many advantages to turning eighteen but the one I was enjoying that fateful Friday evening was enjoying a legal pint and pool game or three at the local pub. When time was called, Geoff dashed for his bus while I nipped to the loo.

As I was crossing the beer garden I heard raised voices, a woman’s voice: “I said no, I don’t think we’re suited –“ The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

A man’s voice, rather aggressive: “You promised!”

Oh fuck. Someone decided he was entitled to a shag. I took out my phone and turned towards the voices. The man had his back to me and was blocking my view of the woman. I could see his raised clenched fist.

“She said no, mate!”

He turned, “Mind your own business, sonny!”

“You’re threatening someone in public. Since I’m a member of the public that makes it my business.”

“Clever little squit aren’t you?”  At that point, the woman took advantage of his distraction to turn and run. He turned to follow her.

“Don’t even think about it mate, or I’ll call the cops!”

He stopped, looked at me then headed off. The woman, meanwhile, had stopped by the wall and was throwing up. I took her by the arm and guided her to one of the tables. She plonked herself on the bench, then peered into my face. “I know you, don’t I?”

Now I knew why her voice sounded familiar. “I suppose you do, you taught me English for five years.”

“Oh god, how embarrassing!” She focused with a visible effort. “John Atkinson, isn’t it?”

I was quite impressed, as far as I know, she’d not laid eyes on me since I left school after my GCSEs. “That’s right. Do you remember all your ex-students?”

“Only some.” She giggled. I wasn’t sure what that was meant to mean so let it go and returned to immediate concerns. I didn’t see where the bloke went and didn’t want him following her. Probably best if I escorted her home.

“Let’s get you home. Where do you live?” She gave an address that was the best part of two miles away. Bugger, she was clearly too pissed to walk that far. “Are you likely to throw up again?” She shook her head. “Okay, then we can taxi it, there’s a cab office about a hundred yards away.”

She stood up unsteadily, I put my arm around her waist to keep her upright. She leaned into me. “I’ve been a silly girl, I should have my bottom spanked.” She giggled. “Are you going to spank me?”

What the fuck? “No, Mrs Robinson, I’m going to get you to your bed so you can sleep it off.” A thought struck me. “That wasn’t your husband, was it?”

“No. Little turd ran off with his LSA. That’s why I’m on bad dates when I’ve turned thirty.”

“So that guy doesn’t know where you live?”

She shook her head.

“Thank fuck for that!”

“Language!”

I grinned. “Sorry, miss!”

The operator at the cab office looked at her doubtfully. “Your girlfriend isn’t going to be sick, is she?”

I suppose it was an understandable mistake, she looked younger than she was and it didn’t seem worthwhile explaining. She grinned at me as we sat on the plastic chairs. It occurred to me that I didn’t know her forename so while we waited, I googled the school on my phone. Rebecca Robinson, Deputy Head of the Humanities Department.

At that moment our cab was called. “Come on, Rebecca.”

“When my mum called me that, I knew I was in trouble. I’m not in trouble, am I?”

“No, you’re not.”

Fortunately, she didn’t throw up but was staggering when she got out. I gave the driver a tenner to cover fare and tip. With some effort, she opened her front door.

I got her inside. “Right, where’s your bedroom?”

“Upshtairs. Firsht on left.” I got her there and turned down the duvet.

“Right, I’ll get you a glass of water then I’ll be off” I went back downstairs and found the kitchen. By the time I returned, she was stripped down to bra and knickers – both frilly black numbers – and lying on her stomach. For the first time, it truly registered that she was rather an attractive woman.

She wriggled her bottom. ”Are you going to spank me now?”

Blimey, that again.  “No, I’m not, now have a drink – you won’t feel quite so bad tomorrow.”

“Spoilsport.” But she did as she was told, then in a moment was snoring. I pulled the duvet over her.

I realised I was going to have to put her keys through her letterbox once I’d locked up outside and wondered how long it would take her to find them when she woke up. Fortunately, there was a notepad and pen by her bedside landline so I left her a note.

“Hi Rebecca, I hope you’re not feeling too rough. Your keys will be on the front doormat. Let me know you’re ok.” I added my mobile number and signed it.

As I walked home, I thought about her admittedly attractive bottom and her references to getting spanked so when I got in, I turned on my bedroom PC and googled “Women enjoying getting spanked”.

Talk about life-changing decisions! I found a number of blogs on the subject and a website that hosted video clips of women being spanked and caned. Some were rather harsh but others were quite sensuous, the women seemingly enjoying it. I was thoroughly aroused and began to fantasise about spanking Rebecca. I almost regretted not doing so when I had the chance but she was clearly pissed and on the whole, I was glad I hadn’t taken advantage.

BECKY ROBINSON 1

Becky awoke around 7 am with a thumping head and only the vaguest notion of how she had got home. She staggered downstairs, took a couple of paracetamols and washed them down with half a litre of coke then returned to bed.

She awoke something over three hours later with a slightly clearer memory of the previous evening. She reached for the glass of water and spotted the note. As she read it, more memory returned. She cringed mentally, not only had she been brought home by a former student but she had asked him to spank her! She looked at the note and supposed she ought to call him to thank him – and apologise. Hesitantly she punched the numbers.

The phone rang twice, then, “Hi, who’s this?”

“Hello, John. It’s Becky Robinson. Thanks for getting me home last night.”

“No problem. How are you feeling?”

“A little hung-over. And a lot embarrassed. I’m sorry about anything offensive I said.”

“Offensive? If you mean the spanking thing, I wasn’t offended.”

“Oh. Good, well thanks again –“

“If you’re still up for it, we could.”

She felt butterflies in her stomach. “I’m not sure.”

A pause. “No problem.”

She knew she should have ended the call then but it had been so long and he seemed quite buff. “We could meet for a drink and a chat, then maybe.”

“I’d like that. When and where?”

She pondered. Normally she would meet play prospects at venues a few miles from her home - as she had done last night – but since John now knew where she lived, that particular Rubicon had already been crossed and at least at home she wouldn’t have to worry about the conversation being overheard. “Here, about 8 pm?”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

STATEMENT OF JOHN ATKINSON 2

My mum was on shift at the hospital when Becky called. Afterwards, I felt quite light-headed at the prospect of meeting her again and thinking about what I hoped we would do. It was strange really; twenty-four hours earlier the concept of erotic spanking wasn’t even on my mental horizon but now I found it hard to think of anything other than having her over my lap.

On the way there I stopped at an offie to get some beers and a bottle of wine. I’d no idea what Becky liked so I just got a bottle of red my mum drinks sometimes.

She seemed a little nervous as she let me in and ushered me into the lounge. I sat in the middle seat of the sofa in eager anticipation. To be honest I already had a hard-on. She took the bottles into the kitchen and quickly returned with a glass of red and pint-glass of beer.

She sat in a single chair facing the sofa and curled her legs under herself, which didn’t seem too promising. She raised her glass to me. “Cheers. And thank you again for last night.”

I raised mine. “Cheers. And you’re welcome. He seemed a bit lairy.” I drank. “It’s not any of my business but –“

“But?”

“But I’m nosy. How did you meet him?”

She smiled. “Admirable honesty.” She dropped her gaze and took a sip of wine. “A spanking dating website.”

I loved hearing her say the word. I wanted to say it too. “What made you like being spanked?”

"In one sense I'm not sure but I know what made me think about it. When I was sixteen my parents bought me a PC. Sometime after that, someone in a chat room alluded to adults being spanked and enjoying it. I didn't want to appear ignorant or find I'd got the wrong end of the stick so I ignored the comment and after I left the room I googled the phrase. Wow!"

"Wow indeed! I googled it myself last night!"

"Had you never before?"

I shook my head. "I didn't realise spanking for pleasure was a thing until you asked me to spank you."

She slowly wiped her palms on her legs. “Want to find out if you like it?”

Suddenly nervous, I nodded and downed my beer. She stood, walked over and lay across my lap. I smoothed out her thin black cotton trousers so I could see the curves of her bottom. She squirmed and sighed as I did so. In the videos I had watched – and wanked myself dry over, if I’m honest – the spankees had more obviously enjoyed it when the spanker started gently so that’s what I did, slapping each cheek gently in turn.

After about a dozen she said, “That’s nice but a bit harder please.” I happily did so, enjoying the feel of my palm on her squirming bottom – and the feeling that squirming was producing in my crotch! After that dozen, I increased the severity and tempo. Becky wriggled on my lap and began breathing heavily.

“Stop a minute please.” I did so and allowed her to stand. I was about to say something but she unfastened and dropped her trousers. She stepped out of them, gave me a quick kiss on the lips and went back over my lap. She was wearing skimpy black knickers like last night so most of her bum was visible so I could see it was nicely pink. I stroked and caressed it before resuming spanking.

“Mmmmmmm!” She sighed with pleasure as I spanked her knickers and exposed skin. After each dozen, I paused to rub and stroke her bottom. The videos had indicated it was a good idea, as did Becky’s squirms and sighs. And I did enjoy it!

After the third dozen, she lifted her hips. “You can take my knickers down if you like.”

Boy, did I like! I peeled them all the way to her ankles and removed them completely. I noticed the crotch was quite damp. I revelled in the feeling of caressing her completely bare and now rather red bottom, then resumed spanking her.

She parted he legs. “Touch me.” I stroked her inner thighs then went to her crotch. Her pussy was quite wet. I found something small and hard, rubbing it produced more sighs of pleasure. I went back to spanking her, relishing the feel of my palm impacting the bare skin of her bottom, then I rubbed her clit again. I loved the stingy feeling in my palm from spanking her bottom. I continued alternating between spanking her bare bottom and stroking her pussy until her whole body repeatedly tensed and relaxed.

“Oh god, that was fantastic, thank you!”

I stroked her back, bottom and thighs as she lay loose-limbed across my lap. Eventually, she wriggled a bit and said, “I can tell you enjoyed it too!”

I wasn’t surprised – I was really hard, uncomfortably so, still being fully dressed. Becky got off me, then undid my belt and flies. With her help I quickly got out of my jeans and briefs, allowing my erection to stand proud and unconfined. Becky knelt astride me, looked into my eyes, and smiled as she lowered herself onto my prick. As she took me inside her, I gripped her hips and thrusted as she wriggled on me. The intense feelings of pleasure built up to a flood of delight as I spurted inside her.

And that’s how I popped my cherry with Becky. It was wonderful and I’ll always be grateful to her.