The best spanking I’ve never had [MF] [anticipation] [fantasy] [mdom] [spanking] [lust]

It was the middle of the Raptors championship-winning run in 2019. I met some friends at a patio in a trendy part of town to watch the game. (I don’t really watch sports, sorry if I’m using the wrong terminology anywhere here.)

A married friend who is a lifelong Raptors fan (Let’s call him Mr. Raptors, or Mr. R for short) had invited out a bunch of friends from his other social circles. They were all pretty drunk by the time I arrived after a long day at work. His wife hadn’t bothered to show up to support him and cheer for his team, as usual. Anytime I saw them together she seemed bitchy and distant, they would show up together and then she would wander off to find something else to do *other* than spend time with him. She was good looking, but the amount of time she abandoned him at social events, and the way she ordered him around or dismissed him when they would be talking together signalled that there was something weird going on between them out of the public eye. I often fantasized about being his side peice, and was in the habit of finding excuses to hang out with him, hence me not being a sports person but still showing up for the game. So, here we all are watching the game, drinking, and his wife is MIA.

The person I was with at the time was Mr. R’s coworker, and he had offered to be Mr. R’s DD so that the guy could let loose and save on cab fare, since they lived near each other. My partner was more of a hockey fan than a basketball fan, but we had both noticed the weirdness with Mr. Raptors’ marriage, and the company they worked for was in an intensely stressful product development cycle, so my partner and I wanted to be there to watch the games with him to make him feel supported and to unwind a bit. We’d caught most of the other championship games with him, and it was always a fun night out cheering for We The North while I memorized the way Mr. R’s body moved and looked in different outfits, both professional on days when they came out straight from the office, and his lazy weekend attire.

It was an intense game, I can’t remember which one, but I think it was a pivotal one that they needed to win. I don’t remember who they were playing, if it was their final opponent or a team in the semifinals. Point is, the Raptors *needed* to win this one, and Mr. R was a bundle of excited energy.

The score was tight, and kept yoyo-ing back and forth, and even though I don’t watch a lot of sports, it was definitely a nail biter. We all had seats, but our asses were rarely in them. We stood, drinks in hand, feeding off of the nervous fervor of the packed patio. When the Raptors would score points everyone would cheer and chant, and more than a few drink glasses were knocked off of tables, smashing on the patio tiles, when the crowd would get rowdy and jump around fist pumping to the sky. (We tipped our waitress well.)

Beyond being there to be supportive, I also had a massive crush on this guy if that wasn’t already obvious. Absolutely drop dead gorgeous, with a stunning smile, expressive eyes, and a runner’s physique. He wore his hair a little longer on top, which I often fantasized using as hand holds while I imagined riding his face. Just a hint of beard scruff, enough that I knew it would feel great nuzzled into my neck, or brushing against my thighs. I’ll be blunt, just watching him sit at a bar and socialize usually got me nice and wet. The things I wanted to do to that man’s mind and body… Mmmhhhmmm…!

The game went into overtime, and the whole crowd was on edge. I kept checking Mr. R out in my peripheral vision, enjoying the way his Raptors hoodie fit his toned body, and liking how his pants cupped his fine ass, emphasizing his package just enough to make it impossible to not think about.

A few intense plays, and it was nearing the end of a round of overtime. In the final few seconds the Raptors clinched their win and the entire patio erupted into cheers and hugs, screaming and high fives. I’d never seen a bigger grin on Mr. R’s face, and I was basking in his glow as he gave high fives to everyone around him.

I had only once touched him, an accidental leg touch under a table at a bar once, but even that had felt like electric fire to me. I wanted to touch him a lot more than that, and a high five seemed innocuous enough that I figured nobody would notice if I my imagination went wild and I soaked through my panties immediately after it. I’m a sex addicted slut, but I still get flustered over simple things sometimes, so I blushed in anticipation of the brief physical contact as he worked his way through his friends. I held up my hand for a high five and leaned towards him…

Here’s where I should probably mention that, while a serious basketball fan and a runner, Mr. R was also a varsity *volleyball* player. He was tall, lean, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. An inverted triangle torso that seemed so effortlessly masculine. He maintained a lot of his fitness from those days, which I knew because I had found some sexy shirtless beach pics of him on social media… *ahem* So. Anyways…

To set the scene: a sexy as fuck volleyball player that I want to bone more than anything is about to high five me…

I know I am projecting my desires here, but I swear his expression slightly changed as he saw that *I* wanted a high five. I’m pretty sure he was aware that I wanted to fuck his brains out, I wear my heart plainly on my sleeve and I’ve got a shitty poker face. He had been giving everyone else regular high fives, with the arm staying mostly below shoulder height. For me, he wound up. I think my eyes must have gone wide, I could almost see the stretch and chest expansion under his hoodie as his shoulder lifted and his serratus moved (so fucking sexy, and yes I could tell even with a hoodie on him, I’d memorized the way his body moved in so many outfits by then). He brought his arm up as if he was going to spike a volleyball, and though I’m not short and I’m rarely aware of men’s size because my family is full of giants, I felt suddenly smaller and more vulnerable in that instant. I think my submissive side kicked in at the sight of him expanding his posture, knowing he was about to briefly touch me. Fuck, that moment is burned into my mind. I was running on pure lust.

He brought his hand down quickly, forcefully, and the slap of palm on palm echoed in my mind. It wasn’t a high five, it was definitely a spike five. He’d put some elastic muscle into it. He moved on, giving everyone else the more muted high fives, and didn’t seem to look back at me. I’m pretty sure my eyes had glazed over. I might have been on the verge of drooling, I don’t remember. My nipples were hard even though it was comfortably warm out, and the instant of contact had made my pussy clench and gush. I was forgetting to breathe, and just watched him with the crowd for a minute, fantasizing about all the things I wanted to do to him, right there on the patio, to celebrate his team’s victory. To raise him up, to help him feel like a goddamn king, to keep that magnificent smile on his face for a few more hours, to hear him groan as I took out his cock and started to –

I snapped out of my trance and started to breathe again as the waitress came by to settle up our tab. My pussy lips were throbbing because my *hand* was throbbing. I had never been hit that hard, slapped that hard in my life. The moment of impact had been exhilarating, and the slap sound was still bouncing around in my head, getting replayed over and over as the hand ached.

We yapped a bit more, wrapped up, and went our separate ways for the night. As he walked away, he looked like he was wrapped in flames of confidence, his stride was more cocky, his posture like a lion that had just made a kill, strong and powerful. I could only imagine how fucking good his useless wife was gonna get it when he got home. If it were me taking him home, the goddamn neighbors three blocks over would have needed a cigarette.

I sat in my car and inspected my hand. No bruising, no broken blood vessels. It *looked* fine, but it *felt* like it was on fire.

The sting of the spike five lasted for two full incredible days, and the entire time I was wet. My pussy ached torturously, and my toys got a lot of use as my partner was too distracted by work stresses to make time for fucking. Didn’t matter, I wanted to think exclusively about Mr. R while I got off, and toy time actually made that a lot easier.

I had never been given a decent spanking, but holy hell did I know exactly how bruised and purple my ass would have been after a few spanks at that intensity level. I’ve been well spanked since, but even with a recent play partner who claims that impact play is his specialty, I’ve *never* had a sting last more than a few minutes, and Mr. R’s had lasted days. I’m pretty sure he would have been able to spank me to climax, which is so hot to think about. As I often do.

This was three years ago now, and I still can’t hear the word “Raptors” or “NBA finals”, or walk past that patio without having my mind race back to that spike five. My breath catches, my pussy lips engorge, my nipples harden, and my mind takes a brief detour to fantasize about how good it would feel to be spanked that fucking hard. I’ve considered finding a local Dom and paying them for such a spanking, but I know it was more than just the act, it was the person – off limits but incredibly sexy – that really makes the fantasy what it is.

I never touched him again, I’m not with that partner anymore and haven’t run into Mr. R in over a year. and a half. But hot damn if that wasn’t the best spank I’ve never had.

My ass can only dream of being lucky enough to earn something like that someday… *moan*

*clears throat*

And now that I’ve gotten myself all worked up thinking about this, I think I’ll go dig out a wooden spoon and spank myself until I’m dripping…

Mmmhhhmmm. Yeah.

Mr. R…

What an absolute specimen of a man…

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/p0fv3k/the_best_spanking_ive_never_had_mf_anticipation