How I Became A Spanko - Sex Stories

How I Became A Spanko

... lot of each other!" I replied, licking my lips seductively. And we did hook up several more times in the following weeks and use various vans, cars, and pick-up trucks for our clandestine purposes. We had a good, semi-regular thing going until he got mad when he realized he was not my only source of fresh semen. Why do boys have to be so stupid?

After my Mr. Right's break was over, I joined my new sorority sisters inside of the club and stood at the bar, washing down my recent mouthful of semen with a glass of mineral water. It would be days before I could sit without grimacing.

Little did I realize at the time how much that spanking turned me on, or the spanko I would soon become.

Our sorority president and I got together often throughout my first and her last year of college to relive my final test, sans the fuzzy handcuffs, and it was common for me to have one or more orgasms, bent across her lap as she warmed and reddened my backside with her trusty paddle. I am pretty sure mine was not the only vaginal nectar dripping down her naked legs on many of those occasions.

On our third or fourth spanking session, she showed me the cell-phone video of my initiation, and it turned me on so much, my vaginal volcano erupted before either of us even had our clothes off!

"I was such a brat that day!" I said after watching the childish way I carried on during my first spanking. "You should have spanked me harder!"

"I will next time!" she said with an assuring nod and ...

... a sly wink.

"Promise?" I asked, assuming my position over her naked lap.

She was not teasing! By the third spank I was wailing uncontrollably, and she did not stop at thirty! We were both drenched with sweat, tears, and vaginal exudate by the time she set the paddle down, helped me up, and handed me a box of tissue.

After blowing my nose and wiping my eyes, I started giggling, despite the burning pain in my backside, and she asked me what in the world could be so funny.

"I still think it looks like a taco!" I gushed, unable to suppress my giddiness. The cell-phone video had captured my since-forgotten comment.

"You just earned ten more spanks," she said without a trace of humor in her voice.

I started to bend myself over her knee when she stopped me.

"Next time," she said softly, her cool hand feeling incredible and sending a shiver of goose-flesh over my entire body as she touched my battered backside. "You've had enough for one day."

"I'll remind you," I offered, wishing she would keep her soothing hand on my backside.

And from there, our pet names for each other were born: I called her "Taco," and she called me "Ten."

A typical exchange would be as follows:

"How are you today, Taco?"

"Pretty good, Ten, how are you?"

"Same."

You get the idea...

She let me use her shampoo bottle after each spanking, and even gave me the bottle as a gift when it was empty. What a joker!

She enjoyed watching me masturbate and often tended to her ...