Spanking

A wall of holes in a swingers club, a sex club, can only mean one thing. So as soon as she was sitting in front of them, they became populated with cocks of all colors and sizes.

Her mouth stayed busy for an hour.

But this story isn’t about that.

Earlier, she had danced naked on a moving platform, circling a pole.

She invited people, male or female, to try and suck on her tits as she turned or even lick her perfectly waxed and pierced pussy.

But this story isn’t about that.

After the blow bang and a tummy full of cum she went for a cigarette and, on the way, stopped on the other side of the holes, so the men could actually touch her.

For ten minutes, they felt and fingered every part of her, and more cum was extracted.

But this story isn’t about that either.

It is much kinkier than that.

This is about what she did when she went out for a smoke.

I know all this because I was there. I know all this because she was my girlfriend at the time. I know all this because the glory hole, the performance, and especially the session of being groped were my ideas. My suggestion. My command if you like.

“Everything I do, I do to turn you on,” that was her mantra. “I suck fat old ugly men because I know it gets you hard.

I let men use handfuls of my hair wrapped around their cocks and jerked off into because I know you like to smell it and suck on it when we fuck later.

I let man after man after man climb on and use me because I know them being so intimate with me makes you jealous, and jealousy is so good for your lust.

Plus I know you always thought of me as a whore, from the moment I walked into your university class and you never took your eyes off me. I’d hate to let you down, my lovely!”

For the groping, she nearly did. “But I’m desperate for a smoke!”

“Do it! Imagine how frustrating it must be for them to not get to touch the great body that’s attached to such a sexy face, with the lips and tongue that’s milking their cocks.”

“OK! But I need a fucking cigarette!”

Maybe it was her irritation at me that led to what this story is really about: Her getting the longest, hardest spanking I could imagine. A gangbang of a spanking. And it didn’t stop until she could barely stand up. I didn’t plan that.

It was busy outside, twenty people sat or standing, smoking, chatting, or just enjoying the hot evening weather.

She always spoke to anyone who smiled at her. Normally fucked anyone who smiled at her. She was the dictionary definition of “easy.”

“I love spanking young women.” This man she sat next to her looked very old, probably well into his 70s. She nodded and looked engrossed in the conversation, ignoring me as usual.

“As young as me?” she was in her mid-twenties. He could easily have been half a century older than her, older than her grandfather.

“Yes! Would you let me?”

“Of course! I’m not a bitch, you know.” Another of her mottos was that a woman was a bitch if she didn’t let any man do whatever they wanted with her whenever they asked. And god, did I love and hate her for that.

If you want to see how she gets on with her bottom beating from multiple men and at least one woman, then sign up here.

Plus, get your free monthly personalised story, too.

“Oh my, you are so beautiful.” In a lower voice, but one I could still hear, he whispered, “You are the sexiest little poppet here.”

She whispered back, “I’m the sexiest poppet wherever I go.” (this was actually almost always true) And she kissed him hard on the lips. His flattery was enough to make her love him.

His hands went straight to a large pert tit. His wrinkled hands crushed them through her dress.

Her hand went straight to his crotch and crushed whatever was there.

I was hard, too, watching this extreme age gap love, but my cock jerked madly all the more when she said the lines, “Why don’t you spank your horny little granddaughter now? You dirty old man.”

Photo by MART PRODUCTION: https://www.pexels.com/photo/close-up-photo-of-a-woman-with-red-hair-kissing-a-woman-7269221/

She stood and lifted her dress. She wore no underwear that night, and her ass is always a great pleasure to look at or feel up.

He did neither. His hand instead came down with a light crack, and her cheeks quivered just slightly as only a pert young ass can do.

“Harder!”

Again, he did it.

“Harder than that!” He laid into her ass with all the mite his age would allow, and she stumbled. Another man caught her. “Can you hit me harder?” she said to him as she collapsed into this other stranger’s arms.

I don’t know why she had this sudden obsession with pain. I knew she liked it, but we hardly ever did it because of her fiancé.

You see, she was my girlfriend, but we both had life partners. I was married; she’d just moved in with him. He knew nothing of her Sex Queen life. Injuries, therefore, would be impossible to hide.

She was so high on finally getting what she had so long craved that she was rushing into losing a five-year relationship.

“Hit me as hard as you can.”

She didn’t care. I knew I should stop her for her own good. But how could I? Everyone was enjoying watching this pretty young submissive and you could see so many wanted a go with her. How often do you get a woman who bends over for a stranger and says, “Go on, Daddy, hit me like you mean it.”

The old man sat back down, but she didn’t leave him out. She was kind to men who lusted for her, kinder than if you loved her as I did. Like her fiancé did.

He held her arms, and she rested one hand on his shoulder. Her other hand jerked him off. Well she did her best too anyway, as the new man, only thirty years her senior this time, warmed to his task.

She no longer shouted for it harder; she didn’t have to, but she didn’t move, and he took that as a red light to use all his strength to beat her bottom.

“Oh, Grandad, he’s hitting me so fucking hard. I’ve never felt such pain,” she spoke to him, but also to everyone. Everyone could hear what she said now. Their heads nearly collided every time a smack came in. “He’s ruining my ass, Papa. It’s all your fault. Look what you’ve done to your poppet.”

I could see his shriveled cock splattering out white goo onto her hand. Her dirty words were always enough to get me off. The same would be true for any man. How many men were hard for her now? How many women are wet? She was wrong in the best possible way.

A pause in her beating occurred then, and she kissed her dear Papa long and hard again, “thank you,” I heard her mumble.

I was torn right then between saving her, although her bottom was already bright and possibly purpling, to try and save her future marriage and the other option. The much more appealing option. To join in and hit ‘till she bled or begged for us to stop.

I did neither. My indecision let me down. A young man about her age enthusiastically took the other’s place.

Exhausted from spanking her, he held her in his arms, grasping both her and her dress, lifting and moving her into a central position so everyone could see. She is only small, and it looked effortless.

Photo by Letticia Massari: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-sitting-on-wooden-chair-naked-10205086/

Cheers went up as her beating began again. I could see her tears now, but she still managed to smile. The man holding her licked away the tears and moved her hand awkwardly between their bodies and trapped it there on his bulge.

I knew she would be doing her best to squeeze it and make him feel good even after all he’d done to her. I was dizzy with lust and overcome with anger. Nights out with her almost always had these crazy but strangely complimentary emotions. This was extreme though.

The young man, the boy behind her, was in a frenzy of momentum. Hitting her sore ass over and over with the energy of youth.

I imagined his girlfriend would probably never entertain such an idea. That every woman he’d ever fucked liked a light smack when being fucked from behind, but none knew the real lust he had to treat them like porn stars. The porn stars he’d spent more of his life with than real women.

But here was a ‘porn star’; here was a chance to go crazy on a beautiful young woman he didn’t know and didn’t care about.

Another woman stopped him. She may have been old enough to be my girlfriend’s mum, but she wasn’t there to mother her. She took over and cracked down three times. Everyone laughed; the woman looked so pleased with herself. Maybe she, too, had never smacked a woman’s ass hard.

I could see handprints and bruising. She bent right over now, unsupported. The other man had gone, probably she’d made him cum so he’d left her.

She was wobbling.

“Enough now!” I overcame my enjoyment of watching and resumed my role as protector.

“Just one more?” Then giggling. Both my girlfriend and the young man who had been hitting her said the same thing at the same time.

She was barely able to stand, and she was asking for more.

She bent over, and he struck her again. She stumbled several steps forward, and it looked like she’d fall. Each time he struck her the large crowd now gathered cheered or laughed. Half of them were women.

I’d not given permission for him to carry on, but no one wanted it to stop. Other men stood around, waiting their turn. They didn’t care that the ass they’d hit was already blistered and throbbing red and purple. They probably loved that.

I was sure I saw a man fiddle with his belt and imagined him taking it off and bringing it down so hard on it.

Perhaps with belts, they’d hit her back, her thighs, her breasts. Was I going to take her back to our AirB&B, riddled with lines and unable to move for a week?

But the worst thing was I was jealous of them. That’s what I’d wanted to do to her but always couldn’t. Her fiancé never knew what a slut she really was. She wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret now.

And worse still, she wanted it. And she wouldn’t stop them.

Photo by Alexander Krivitskiy: https://www.pexels.com/photo/a-woman-biting-her-lips-6537288/

“Again?”

She nodded.

‘No more,’ I thought, ‘no more.’ But she wasn’t for stopping him, stopping them. Stopping anyone. I had to set her boundaries. She no longer had any.

Every time he hit her, she stumbled forward. He was chasing her slowly across the yard, but she wasn’t trying to escape. Finally, she reached a brick wall. She lent on it and pushed her ass out, inviting more. Two men stepped forward.

“Come on,” I took her hand. “No more!” He still hit her ass I led her away.

She was cross with me, I could tell, and she turned to blow him a kiss.

I could feel eyes on me, loud sighs of frustration that I’d spoilt the party. I’d taken away their BDSM doll. You’d probably not even be able to hire a prostitute to do this.

Back inside, she came down from her high. She clung to me and hugged me tight, in a way I’ve only ever felt with her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

But all her apology did was turn me back on.

“You owe me,” I said, and she nodded, eyes watery, biting her lip.

The night was long from over.