The story is a work of fiction though my wife does spank me from time to time and when I ask for that sort of attention. Though a work of fantasy, I would love to be treated this way. I assure one and all that my wife loves me and we have a delightful, strong, and satisfying marriage in every way. Not sure why I feel it is necessary to write that but sometimes I think in this twisted world of sexual explicit material we visit, it is sometimes lost that we are normal people with normal interests, hobbies, jobs, careers, families, relationships, etc.
Something I should note, however, is that I almost believe that my sexual orientation is as a spankophile. It is what I want most and find most satisfying. Even before I knew what sex was, spanking interested me even to the point of obsession. As I grew older, I struggled to silence this part of me and just enjoy what 'normal' men were interested in: boobs, vaginas, shapely women, intercourse, blowjobs... It didn't work. I prayed for salvation even. Nothing. For decades, I lived with guilt and shame that spanking was what I wanted.
To be clear, I like all spanking. I like to spank and I like to be spanked. Gender doesn't matter. For me, spanking is sex and sex is spanking. A spanking can and perhaps should involve arousal, ejaculation, and orgasm. Admittedly this is not depicted in porn in the USA because of Meese Commission Report that won't allow BDSM and explicit sexuality in the same work.
This, then, is why I write about it. There is no porn for what I like. I have to grow my own, as it were.
All that to say, enjoy another of Winkie's adventures.
Simply put, "no squirties without spankees."
I should explain. Even though I'm all grown up, I still just have a little boy penis:
My wife says he is cute but not really big enough for sex. He's doesn't get big enough and when we used to have sex, I would pop too soon. It wasn't any fun for her so we don't do that anymore.
Of course, I want to still but she doesn't think I deserve to even have a hard penis much less orgasm and ejaculate. Her reasoning is that if she can't use my penis, neither should I.
As you can imagine, it didn't take long before she noticed me being hard, and then not. She also discovered that my pajamas would have crusty spots on the front from when I would have wet dreams or would just hump a pillow to make my "morning wood" go away.
She said that little boys that are naughty with their pee-pees should get spankees. Not spankings: spankees. She didn't want me to think that I was a big boy getting a big boy punishment. Nope, just a little boy getting a little spankee on his boom-boom for being a naughty little boy with his naughty little pee-pee.
It was really difficult for me at first especially because my little 'spankees' were really hard and sometimes made me cry. One time, we were just spooning in bed and my penis got hard against her bottom. I tried to be really still so she wouldn't notice but I was wearing flannel pajamas and, well, I couldn't hide what happened next.
I apologized right away. Before it happened even, I said, "oh no, I'm sorry," and I even sounded like a little boy. Then it was happening and it was so fast too. Just squirt, squirt, squirt and all done. I rolled away and it was just like a flashback to when I was a little boy.
Before I even knew what masturbation or sex was, I would wake up humping my mattress in the morning. My penis would be tingling and then I would feel really good. Then, I would lay still for a few minutes waking up more before almost always realizing how bad I had to pee. I would usually run to the potty.
One day, it felt different and even better at the end. When I rolled out of bed, my pajama bottoms were a little bit wet. I figured a little pee had escaped. Next day, the same thing. After a while, it didn't even bother me that my bottoms were a little bit sticky in the morning and crusty at night. Boys are like that: totally oblivious to the obvious.
Funny thing was, that was in winter when I would wear my red flannel pajamas. When it was warm, I wore the thin lightblue bottoms only. They weren't as soft so it wasn't as nice to rub the bed in the morning and when I got up, I realized there was an obvious wet spot that I couldn't hide from the rest of the family.
That was the end of humping the bed and I figured out masturbation pretty quick after that. That is until the following fall when the red flannel pajamas came back out.
At first, it was how good they felt in the morning against my morning hard penis that surprised me. Then one day, I did my bed humping again, and it just felt right and wonderful. Then I was getting hard putting them on before bed. I was even humping the bed both before I fell asleep and when I woke up in the morning. The wet spot would be covered mostly by my pajama top and the dark red plaid nicely hid the evidence of my masturbatory activities. Most days, I would wear my pajamas to breakfast or longer with the cool wet spot tickling my tummy as it slowly dried. Though I could smell my acrid semen, I figured no one else could or could identify what it was they smelled. I was washing my pajamas a lot because they would get crusty and not feel as good. A soft warm pair fresh from the dryer was amazing and I couldn't wait after putting them on to get into bed and take care of business.
And speaking of 'business', I wouldn't masturbate any other way. Considering that I was ejaculating twice a day most of the time, I didn't really need to. When I did get the urge during the day, it became fun to wait until bedtime. My parents loved that I wouldn't argue about going to bed on time.
Then I was getting a hard-on just seeing flannel pajamas. At a department store one time, I walked by a pajama display and was instantly erect. I didn't make a scene but I knew enough to know that what was happening in my pants was something I didn't want to advertise to my mommy or anyone else in the store. Of course, even fully erect, my hard little penis wasn't really going to show through my jeans.
If I was alone in the house, I would sometimes put on my pajamas and then find something to hump until I squirted. It felt naughty and that made it even better. I made rules like that I couldn't change until I was dry or that I couldn't close the drapes while I did my humping. It made it all riskier, naughtier, and more exciting.
It never took very long but there would be a moment when I would know that I could still stop but that in just a few seconds, I wouldn't be able to and the inevitable would happen. As bad as it looked to be humping the couch cushions, the arm of the chair, or even just the fluffy shag rug, I knew that in a couple seconds, I was going to be very obviously convulsing in orgasm and that would look really bad. Anyone that looked in the window or came home would see one exceedingly naughty little boy doing something very naughty indeed. I would glance at the window not sure if I did or did not want to see someone looking in before collapsing into my orgasm.
Of course, the risk was higher when others were home and the risk seemed to make it better. Any time I could be wearing my pajamas around the house like on a weekend morning or while watching TV late in the evening, I would be in my comfy flannel pajamas. When I thought I had the room to myself, I would get busy.
The most risky time was when I was watching TV with my older sister one night. During a commercial, she ran to the bathroom and I immediately rolled over on the couch and started humping a throw pillow. My penis was quickly erect and tingling in no time but I was very worried she was coming back so I stopped and got back sitting but with my hard little penis slightly tenting the front of my pajamas.
During the show and with her sitting a chair just three feet to my right, I marveled that my hardness was hidden by the folds of my trusty red flannel pajama bottoms and the matching button down top. Even when it pulsed and throbbed, the flannel just barely moved but gently tickled the tip. The teasing kept me aroused and wanting.
I stayed hard and thoroughly distracted hoping she would have to pee again. Luckily, she was drinking a huge glass of iced tea and nature called at another commercial break. I needed my relief but I froze momentarily in fearful indecision. Deciding a little stimulation was better than none, I rolled into position on my throw pillow lover and with my legs spread wide and hands holding tightly to the back of the couch, I ground my hard little penis into the soft pillow.
From behind, there could be no doubt what I was doing and I knew how wrong it was. My parents and our church very clearly and loudly taught that sex was only between a husband and a wife. Though no one talked about masturbation, I assumed that it was sex and since I wasn't married, this was just as bad. In other words, it wasn't like my sister was going to walk into the room and laugh if she caught me doing this; I was going to be in big trouble.
That fear of getting caught and the repercussions if I did almost caused me to get caught. The fear excited me but also distracted me. The excitement drove me on but the fear delayed the inevitable. I twisted around almost instinctively to check for witnesses when I knew I could still stop. The doorway was clear but I heard the toilet flush. I knew I had only seconds before being discovered so I was giving up but it was like my penis knew it was now-or-never. I rolled back to sitting on the couch but felt my orgasm slowly and inevitably building as I did so. I willed it not to happen but my will was no match for my libido. I fluffed my pajama top to be better cover my throbbing erection.
It was one of the slowest and longest orgasms of my life or at least seemed to be. I froze in place feeling the tingling at the tip of penis spread down my legs and up my stomach and even my nipples tingled. I kept from shaking best I could and tried to keep my face relaxed. She was going to be in the room at any second but it wasn't until she was in the room when my penis finally start spurting. I gasped and quickly looked up to see if she noticed what was happening to me. Apparently it looked like I was startled and she jokingly apologized for sneaking up on me. "Oh, it's OK," I said in a strained voice as semen filled my pajama bottoms.
After my penis softened, I surreptitiously inspected the mess when I was sure she wasn't looking. Probably because I was sitting when it happened, there was a surprisingly small wet spot on my bottoms and even that was easily covered by my long pajama top. I didn't dare look inside but I could feel a puddle of semen on my stomach. Some of it was starting to flow to the right. I thought maybe if I re-positioned, I could keep it more contained but when I propped myself up, it all started to flow down toward my soft penis and sagging testicles. Next thing I knew, I felt warm fluid flow around my scrotum and collect at the top of my thighs which I kept tightly together.
The smell of semen filled the air and for one of the first times, I associated the acrid odor with my own emissions. The excitement, fear, shame, and a thoroughly amazing orgasm was imprinted on my mind. I was never as close to being caught again after that and it wasn't until after my wife made the rule that I even had another orgasm where I wasn't stimulating myself while it happened.
If I didn't have a fetish for flannel pajamas before that night, I did afterwards. All the components came to be associated with the red flannel. I got a pair that year on Christmas morning and my reaction was genuine joy but also an embarrassing and difficult to hide hard-on.
Over the years, I started to feel a little ashamed that I was squirting into my pajamas all the time. The wet spot on my pajamas would stick to my penis and when I moved to get out of bed or just rollover, it would get all over my stomach. Worse yet, my mommy was so moved by how much I loved my Christmas present of red flannel pajamas that she got me a new pair every year and still does. Now I just get an erection whenever I open a present from my mom.
Even today, my favorite pajamas are red flannel:
As I rolled away from my wife that night, I was transported back to when I was just a little masturbating boy having his own semen smear all over his tummy before going to sleep. I didn't get to go to sleep yet that night though. No, I had to get up, clean myself up, rinse off the mess I made in my pajamas, and then fetch the hairbrush. My spankee that night was super hard. I went to sleep on my tummy. With horror, I woke up the next morning hard as a diamond and gently humping the bed. My sore bottom convinced me to stop that right away.
Since that spankee, I've been very careful because 'unauthorized emissions', as she calls them, receive the harshest punishment. She almost never gives me permission to make my squirties but if I ask first and show her my hard little problem, she doesn't seem to spank as hard or maybe it is because at least part of my spanking happens before the squirts come out.
Most of the time, I can just think about something else and my hard little guy will get soft again. Then I'll have a day that is difficult. Sexy thoughts will invade my thinking and make me get an erection. Of course, I know that my bottom will get a spankee but that doesn't help me get control. Quite the opposite.
The spankees do hurt but a spankee means that I get to squirt. It is all getting twisted together in my head. A red bottom means a happy penis. The more I need my little orgasm, the more the cost to my bottom seems like a small price to pay.
And that is how we get to today. My little guy needs his relief. He's hard all the time and I can't think of anything besides sexy things. It is starting to hurt even.
I went to the bathroom to think about what will happen next and took this picture:
This is as hard as he gets. Just a couple strokes and the squirts would happen. I want to so bad but that would be too naughty.
She's sitting in the family room. I've got my towel and the hairbrush. My bottom tingles in anticipation and my little guy is twitching.
After my bottom is warmed up and red, and my penis is still hard, one of a couple things will happen. She might just send me to potty to go make my squirties. Or she might just make me do it right in front of her. Either way, she will tell me to hurry up and if I do it in front of her, she will just 'tsk-tsk' when it happens and say how dirty and icky it is. If I'm in the potty, she will sometimes stand outside knocking and asking how it is going, if I'm done yet and telling me to hurry up.
If I am lucky and I am usually lucky, thank goodness, she will put the towel over her thighs and let me lay down over her lap. Then, she will spank me--but usually not too hard--until the squirts come out. I don't know why, but I like that best.
Still, it doesn't matter how the squirts come out because after they are out, I always get a super hard spanking with the hairbrush. It hurts really bad and sometimes I even will cry. It is all embarrassing but crying is the worst. I don't feel like a man at all. It is like it gets stripped right off me and I'm just a little boy again. My penis is soft, my bottom burns, my eyes leak tears, and I beg and plead for forgiveness and mercy.
When it is over, she will sometimes just hug me before I go clean up but other times she'll want me to give her an orgasm with my tongue. She will tap the brush threateningly against the open palm of her left hand as I get in position. I haven't failed yet so I don't know if the threat is real and hope to never find out.
