Engleză, Franceză, Italiană

Aged six, I discovered CP the hard way, when my mother pulled down my pants, put me over
her knee and gave me about fifteen hard strokes with a long handled hairbrush. It hurt like hell.
However, my howls were of shock, as well as pain. This had never happened before. My mother was young and very pretty. Some holiday, or weekend mornings, my twin sister and I would join her in bed, one each side. She’d suggest an outing, or some other treat. When she laughed, her breasts jiggled under her nightdress. I’d long to stroke them and run my fingers through her dark pubic hair.
Whenever my father was away, the three of us were very uninhibited with each other.
I was puzzled; Mummy never beat my sister, who was just as naughty as me.
I feared Mummy’s spankings less and less. She would anoint my blazing cheeks with cold cream and usually gave me a kiss. Our bottoms are erogenous. And because I loved her, I associated my stinging buttocks with an erotic pleasure that I did not understand.
One day, Mummy told me that she was getting a cane of her own. “Bend over, touch your toes.” A ritual school-type beating, up to a maximum of twelve strokes. Mummy was very aware of tradition. Was she beaten as a child? Quite probably, since she went to a convent. Once my sister came in and observed this routine. How she crowed, once we were alone.
Years later, when I had graduated, I taught briefly in a girls’ school where the cane was still used. The headmistress obviously enjoyed her work. Sitting in my study, I would hear the swish, thwack, swish, thwack as she laid into bare bottoms with gusto.
Most of the girls were there because their parents supported corporal punishment - and a lot of the mothers had been to the school themselves.
One day, one of these parents - an elegant lady in her forties, burst in and demanded that I punish her. “It will be a pleasure” I said. “You know the drill.” I sat at ease, while she removed her skirt. Once she had dopped her french knickers on the floor in front of her, she moved her feet apart, then bent down and touched the silky undergarments. This was in the days before fashionable women shaved ‘down there’. The view of her plump furry vulva was stuning. I locked the door and took a thin rattan cane from the cupboard.
“If you let go of your knickers, you’re in for an extra stroke.” I said.
“What if I yelp?”
“That’ll be two extra strokes.”
In the end, she received thirteen strokes and waited, panting, while I freed my erect penis and plunged it into her sopping pussy. I learnt later that her husband regularly caned both her and their two daughters.

When my poor mother died of breast cancer, I removed the cane from the cupboard.
I fell in love. Again
Work. Pub. Bed. We’d lie there, listening to music, smoking and drinking and having sex.
Lots of oral. She had a demanding clitoris.
I tried hard to be reliable – and it was hard. After one business meeting – purposeful, but slightly flirtatious - with a woman whose name I can no longer recall, we descended the steep winding stairs. The building was now empty. She looked down at me. My face was about level with her bare, brown knees. I only had to move my hand a few inches. So I did.
Later, when I returned home, J was waiting for me in NORWICH mode.
And I was stinking of recent sex. She looked at me, in a way I hadn’t seen before. I felt scared, as well as excited. But I had asked for it, hadn’t I?
“Fetch your mother’s cane. Now take your pants off and drop them on the floor in front of you. Now bend down and touch them. If you can’t reach, spread your legs wider.”
She gave me 12 hard strokes. By the fourth or fifth, I had a huge erection.
Later, we reached an agreement that whoever was in the wrong would submit - and usually, it was me.
After a lifetime spent with beautiful women, I’ve learnt my lesson.

I’ll enjoy warming up your bottom. But if you decide to warm mine, I won’t resist.

Ricxx

Leu

Mediu

6' 0 (1.83 m)

Albaștri

caucaziană

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Da - Nu acasă

Cur

Șaten deschis

Nu

Diplomă de Universitate

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