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These were people like me, who in this post-50 Shades era, had nothing in common with the vanilla couples toying with handcuffs and blindfolds, making up safe words and buying heart-shaped paddles.These people were true aficionados, who'd wielded (and felt) those paddles, as well as hairbrushes, floggers and straps, for years.When I was a kid I used to look up the word "spanking" in the dictionary, and I got a visceral thrill when I saw a spanking scene on “Little House on the Prairie” or “I Love Lucy.”At times, spanking was an obsession, and one made all the more torturous for the shame I felt harboring it.
I never told any of my girlfriends about my fetish, although I often made clumsy attempts to engage in spanking play. Not really, not unless she wanted it, too, and none of them did.This obsession felt impossible to share, so I was always hungry for cues that someone could relate."I relate.As a man, though, it's a little different -- we're not supposed to hurt women, we're supposed to protect them.I didn't have much else in common with them, but the spanking was amazing. I'd driven 300 miles to go to a small spanking party in Washington, DC.As much as anything, it was the relief of finally exercising my kink with someone other than my right hand and a box of tissues. It was at someone's house, and it was two days of awesome.