I’m sure I’m not the only person who goes through sexual phases. One week I’ll be all about mutual masturbation – vigorously rubbing a guy’s cock while I push my tits into his face, and twitching as he matches my speed and pressure stroke-for-stroke on my own clit. At other times nothing will satisfy me except a doggy-style fuck – arse in the air, back arched, and face pressed down onto the mattress as he pounds me with a quick, rapid force.
But my current phase has been with me for over a month and shows no immediate signs of abating any time soon.
Right now I like being grabbed, in a very specific place.
Put your big arms around me
I’ve always liked big hands. In fact, sod it – any guy’s hands. They’re beautiful, and strong, and the unique feeling of being touched by someone else can barely be bettered.
When I’m wanking, I can’t come unless I use one hand to grab at my tits – pinch my nipples and squeeze and grab myself, as I play out whatever scene is in my head and imagine the guy squashing the girl nice and tight. But it’s not quite as good with my own hands – they’re not big enough, they’re not strong enough and, most importantly, they’re not different enough.
What I like right now, what I want right now, is a man’s hands. Gripping me solidly about the waist, sliding down to grab at a handful of backside and – here’s the crucial part – right down the crack of my arse, squeezed into tight jeans. I want to feel his middle two fingers pressing strongly into the seam.
I want him to grab my arse, not cup it, in a traditional ‘getting away with a bit of touching at the school disco’ way. I don’t want both hands on me, holding one arse cheek each like they need sharing around. I want one big strong hand grabbing right in the middle, spreading his fingers out to reach as much as he can, and tipping me slightly backwards as he runs his hand down between my thighs.
Occasional drooling slip-ups
The problem with having a particular desire for this type of thing, though, is that it’s an activity far too easy to do in public. I need only cling to the boy while one of his hands is busy holding a coffee or a cigarette and press myself up against him, and his left hand will automatically snake down my back and along the seam of my jeans. He holds me tight like that, burrowing his fingers just a bit deeper between my legs, and pulls me up on tiptoe so he can reach further down.
Although he wouldn’t wank me off on a crowded tube (no matter how nicely I ask) or fuck me doggy-style in Tesco, the boy is more than willing to do the arse grab whenever I cosy up next to him. It’s good for me, because I get what I want, but it’s not an ideal situation for the rest of society.
This is my way of saying that if you’ve spotted a couple recently in a London beer garden looking a bit too close for polite company, with a guy burying his hand in the back of a girl’s jeans while she drools sleepily on his shoulder, I probably owe you an apology.
‘Spanking’ encompasses a range of things – you can be spanked by someone who is giggling and brandishing a pink heart-shaped toy from Anne Summers. You can be spanked by a teacher, parent, boyfriend, girlfriend, or midget in a gimp suit. You can be spanked until it just about hurts or you can be spanked until the agony is so much that you want to bite straight through the pillow and into your bottom lip.
You can be spanked by someone who can’t get hard unless he knows you’re uncomfortable – who digs his fingers into the back of your neck and forces you over his knee, yanks your knickers down and rubs his cock into you while he whacks you. You can be spanked by someone who’s afraid that if he gives you more than a light-hearted slap you’ll report him to the authorities.
So the question ‘do you like being spanked?’ is about as relevant as ‘do you like food?’
Like ‘food’, I think everyone likes spanking. Be it a gentle tap on the bum to demonstrate ownership or so they can see your butt jiggle as they’re fucking you from behind, right up to a full-on gutwrenching spitefuck accompanied by slaps so hard they give you stars behind the eyes.
The question might open things up for more discussion and more extravagant play, but I’m always wary of giving a fully honest answer. Yes, of course I like spanking. But I’m loathed to tell you how I like it in case you spend the next five fucks trying to get the tone, the rhythm and the strength to my exact specifications.
So I think what I’m proposing is that we come up with a Universal Spanking Declaration, along the lines of:
“I like being spanked in some way, shape or form.”
That way we can assume everyone likes a bit, and push things gradually until we reach the point at which they say “oh fuck yes, that’s it.” After all, that’s basically what we do with sex itself, right? No one says “once my penis is inside you, do you want me to maintain a fairly steady, slow rhythm, or would you prefer me to tease you a bit then go at it hammer and tongs until you come all over my cock?”
No. With sex we play jazz. Because we assume everyone likes it we expend our energies working out how they like it best.
From now on, if you sign up to my Universal Spanking Declaration, I shall do the same. I know you like it, I just need to find out how; I’m going to play jazz.
Now bend the fuck over.