So we'd been seated at a cozy Thai restaurant, and by the time my Nam Tok arrived, I realized sometimes I liked to be slapped. The after burn of flesh against flesh, delivered with such controlled viciousness turned me on. We'd just argued a mere ten minutes before he grabbed by my wrists and told me, "You're going to fuckin' have dinner". After all, it was what we'd gone out to do. We were doing the whole dinner and a movie cliche,a nd I was flipping out over a phone call from his ex-girlfriend. I'd hit him on the back really hard and he'd let me, but when I screamed and hit him on the back of the head, he grabbed my hands and held them, then slapped the shit out of me. I nearly came from the blow. I wanted more. Something in me must have conveyed to him that he could control me for the evening. And so he did.
Later, after dinner and expensive drinks, he pulled me into an alleyway and had his way with me. I wanted him to slap me, but I couldn't bring myself to say it to him. The sex was brief and orgasmic, and I got off by feeling that sting on my face. He never slapped me again. And I never asked for him to do it. I self-gratified off that slap many of nights.
He's a powerful memory and I don't like to share much about him. But I'm stoking today, adding pieces of him to every erotic feeling surging through my body. Michael.
Later, after dinner and expensive drinks, he pulled me into an alleyway and had his way with me. I wanted him to slap me, but I couldn't bring myself to say it to him. The sex was brief and orgasmic, and I got off by feeling that sting on my face. He never slapped me again. And I never asked for him to do it. I self-gratified off that slap many of nights.
He's a powerful memory and I don't like to share much about him. But I'm stoking today, adding pieces of him to every erotic feeling surging through my body. Michael.