Always Wanted To
Terry was spanked a lot growing up.
It all started when he was five years old. He was walking home from the bus stop one rainy Tuesday afternoon, making sure to splash though every mud puddle on the way. When he got home, he burst in through the front door, all smiles and completely drenched. He tracked mud halfway through the living room before his mother stopped him. She hadn't yelled or anything, she'd just dragged him to the couch, pulled down his pants and underpants and spanked him on his bare bottom while he'd howled and kicked and cried.
After that, it seemed like he was getting spanked every other day. His mom spanked him for forgetting his cores and making messes and talking back. His dad spanked him for going down by the river and forgetting his homework and talking back. His aunt once spanked him for trampling her vegetable garden. His uncle once spanked him for playing football in the house. His grandpa spanked him often for talking back.
Once Mr. Kemper spanked him bare bottom in front of the whole class when he shoved Jenny Hutton. Once his best friend's mom spanked him when he'd said the "s-word" five times in a row on a dare. Once his grandma spanked him when she caught him playing down by the river where he wasn't supposed to be.
And then there was the window in his life between the ages of eleven and thirteen, where he was spanked on a semi-regular basis by Bridget Lorwyn, a girl about four years older than him who served as his babysitter until his last year of middle school.
Bridget took every opportunity to spank him, knowing that her threat of telling his parents was enough to get him to submit. Besides, he liked getting spanked by Bridget. She was a red-headed girl with bright green eyes and smooth, pale skin, and vivacious curves. The last time she spanked him, she was eighteen and preparing to head off to college. He had just turned fourteen and was about to be a freshman in high school.
He wasn't even certain why he was being spanked.
They were in her room. The window was open, and the summer to autumn air held the hint of falling leaves and the hint of barbecue smoke and the hint of something in between. Terry didn't object as Bridget pulled down his shorts.
She was wearing a light summer dress, blue with a yellow floral print.
She smelled like cinnamon.
Usually, Bridget would spank him on his briefs first and then progress to his bare bottom, but this time she pulled his briefs down right away. Terry was unashamed by the swelling hint of his erection. It wasn't the first time she'd seen it and she'd never commented on it, so Terry had grown used to it. He lay down over her lap willingly, almost eagerly, feeling the smooth softness of her thighs through the dress.
Bridget sighed. "Oh, Terry. I'm going to miss this. I'm sure you wouldn't say the same."
Terry laughed. "Oh yeah?" He wiggled his butt at her. "What makes you think I don't enjoy it?"
She slapped his naked bum and laughed, a pure peal of melodious bells. "You're a naughty boy, Terry."
"Yeah? What are you going to do about it?"
"This." And she got down to the serious business of spanking him.
For all his bravado, for all that, in a way, he liked the spankings, they still hurt and he still squirmed and cried as his butt caught fire and roared. When she was done, she hugged him and kissed his forehead and left him to cry in peace.
And then she was gone to college and it was four years before he saw her again.
Terry sat in the dorm common room while the RA told them enthusiastically about the rules of the third floor of Westfall Hall at QSU. She didn't seem to have recognized him yet, but he'd recognized her immediately. Bridget Lorwyn was as lithe and smiley and beautiful as ever. His bottom had tingled and his loins stirred the moment she'd walked into the crowded common room.
Of course, Terry had known that Bridget was still at QSU. Her parents still spoke to his parents and they'd told them that Bridget had switched her major every year, twice her sophomore year, and had was now double majoring in Computer Science and Philosophy with minors in Anthropology and Creative Writing and an interdisciplinary certificate in Religious Studies. What he hadn't known was that she was still living in the dorms, that she was to be his RA.
When the meeting was done and the students dispersed, Terry lingered. Bridget was fielding a few questions from some of the others about meal plans and curfews.
When they were done, Terry stood and Bridget turned her gaze to him.
"Do you have any questions?" Bridget asked.
Terry nodded. "Do you remember me?"
Bridget's brows knit. For a moment, Terry's heart fell and his smile faded. For all that they hadn't seen each other in four years, he thought for sure their history would have cemented him in her mind. But then her eyes widened and his heart fluttered.
"Terry Middlemas? My goodness! You've grown so tall!" She stepped forward and wrapped him in an enthusiastic hug, going on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.
Terry remembered Bridget as a tall, willowy girl, but now she was shorter than him. Even sitting in the common room listening to her delineating the rules, he'd though of her as taller. It was odd to him.
Bridget released him, leaving the hint of her scent, cinnamon he thought.
"Why didn't you tell me you were coming to QSU?"
Terry shrugged. "I'm sure my parents told your parents. I figured you knew. I was going to look you up after classes started, but…" He shrugged again.
"Well," she said, her smile wide and her cheeks flushing.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Do you… do you want to come to my room and catch up?"
Terry smiled. "Of course."
Bridget's dorm room was slightly smaller than the regular dorm rooms, but as an RA, she didn't have to share with a roommate. She got them both sodas from her minifridge. She sat on the bed and offered him the chair.
"How was highschool?" she asked. "How are your parents? Have you been staying out of trouble?" She winked at him and his chest tightened.
They talked of home. Bridget lamented not being able to visit home more often between taking on extra classes in pursuit of her double major. Terry talked about his time on the debate team and track team.
"I suppose you were a regular in detention?" Bridget said.
Terry laughed. "You know, I kind of straightened out after you left. I wanted to make sure I did well enough to get into college. I…" he hesitated and blushed. "I never got another spanking after you left."
Bridget looked taken aback. "You mean I was your last?"
He nodded. "I've thought about that a lot ever since. I got a lot of deserved spankings back then, but that one… why were you spanking me, Bridget?"
Bridget blushed and looked away. "Um… I'm sure you'd been naughty."
Terry shook his head. "I don't think so. I think…" He swallowed hard. "I think you spanked me just because you could. In fact, as I thought about it over and over again, I think you spanked me just because more than once."
Bridget giggled, mischievous as she looked at him through her lashes. "You think so?"
"Are you mad?"
"No. I… I liked being near you, having your… your hand on my…"
Bridget looked up at him.
"You know, Bridget, there's something I've wanted, ever since that last spanking." He held his hands out to her and she took them, letting him pull her to her feet.
"I… I haven't… haven't done that to anyone since…" Bridget stumbled through her words. "I'm out of practice, Terry."
Terry shook his head. "No. Not that."
Quick as a switch, Terry sat on Bridget's bed and pulled her down over his lap. Bridget gasped as she fell, her breath whumped from her belly, her cheeks bursting to flame pulling tears to her eyes.
For all that he'd enjoyed going over Bridget's lap when he'd been a child, he'd as often imagined Bridget over his own ever since. But now that he had her, he hesitated. Her weight on his lap was nice, comforting. But his audacity made him freeze, his hands flat on her bed.
Bridget looked over her shoulder at him and he looked at her.
"I thought you said you weren't mad," Bridget said.
Terry nodded. "I'm not."
Terry swallowed hard. "Just because."
She smiled just a little.
And in the several moments of that conversation, not once did Bridget try to get up or get away. She lay comfortably, looking at him, smiling just a little.
"You're a naughty girl, Bridget."
"Yeah? What are you going to do about it?"
Terry held onto Bridget's waist as he pulled the skirt of her dress, blue with a yellow floral print, up, revealing her pale blue panties. Bridget laughed, like chimes in the wind, she gasped like leaves in autumn, she squealed like a kid at Christmas.