Dare (M/F story)

It was one of those ideas that only seem good when you're drunk. I was out with a couple of friends, drinking and having fun, when somehow, our night out turned into a game of dare. One after the other, all of us would get a dare, and then perform it. Each dare was more humiliating than the last, until at last, Beth dared me to take off all my clothes and go into the men's room.

In sober condition, I would never agree. But I was drunk, and would have done pretty much anything.

As I stood outside the men's room however, I sobered up quickly. I had taken off all my clothes and handed them to Beth, so that I could find them afterwards. The cool night breeze was blowing in places it normally never reached, and I was more nervous than I had ever been in my life. But with the judging eyes of my friends upon me, I had no choice. I had accepted the dare, so I might as well just get it over with.

I opened the door slightly, peeking in. Luckily, no one was there. We had decided that I would march slowly over to the wall on the other side, march back, and then leave. I did so, with considerable shaking. All of the girls were standing just outside, holding the door open and peeking in to make sure I did as I was supposed to.

But when I reached the opposite wall, and turned around to march out, I heard the sound of a door closing and a giggling that was growing more distant. I was shocked, and even more so when the door began to open. Someone had come, and all of my friends had left me.

In through the door walked a tall young man. He seemed to be in his late twenties, a few years older than me. He saw me standing with my back to the wall, my hands in front of my chest and groin as I tried my hardest to blend into the background. His eyes widened, before he lowered his gaze; my body language clearly told him I didn't want to be looked at.

He walked to the sink, pouring water unto a stain on his shirt. He grabbed a couple of paper towels and dried it off. All the while, I stood unmoving, too embarrassed to stay and too embarrassed to move at the same time. When the man was satisfied that the stain was more or less gone, he took off his leather jacket. Without looking at me, he handed it to me. "You look like you need it," was all he said.

I put it on quickly. Luckily, it had been a little long on him, so it covered my backside completely. I studied myself in the mirror. Hopefully, no one would realize that I was nude under it.

"Thanks," I said to my saviour. I realized how pathetic that sounded, but I didn't know what to say. What do you say to a man that has found you nude in the men's room? "My name's Julie," I added finally, mostly just to say something.

"I'm Will. You should leave now," he suggested. He added, "Do you want me to follow you home?"

I quickly considered. I wasn't one for showing strange men where I lived, but a man that finds a naked woman in a men's room and not only looks away, but hands her clothes, is either a gentleman or gay. Either way, I was safe.

Plus, he wasn't bad to look at either. My saviour was a tall, handsome man, with short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was dressed in a tight pair of jeans and a black shirt, and under normal circumstances I would be flirting wildly. These circumstances were everything but normal, however, so all I did was accept his offer. Luckily, no one else entered.

As we were walking along, I told him about the drunken game, about the final dare and about my friends running away when they heard him coming. This act of betrayal seemed to upset him.

"Running away from a friend like that. I wouldn't call those girls friends, Julie. Just tell me who they are, and I'll pull them over my knee and give them a lesson in friendship on their bare bottoms."

I pictured my friends, over the lap of the tall man walking beside me, getting their bottoms warmed for their betrayal. It was a strange image, and I started giggling. "That would serve them right," I agreed. I walked in silence, the images of my mind changing. Suddenly, I wasn't picturing Beth over a lap getting her bottom smacked, but myself. And instead of the righteous glee from before, I was feeling aroused. I glanced over at Will's hands. They were large, and looked like they could deliver a good wallop. I didn't know why the idea of receiving a spanking from this man sounded so appealing, but it did.

I cleared my throat, not knowing what to say. "You know, they didn't force me into that room. I decided to go along with the dare. I could have refused. So if you need to punish someone…"

"So you are just as guilty as they are?" he suggested. "You deserve a spanking as well?" From his tone of voice, it was clear that he had read my mind; this wasn't something I deserved, this was something I wanted.

I just nodded. The rest of the walk, there was silence.

When we arrived at my house, I invited him in. I asked him if he wanted anything to drink, but he declined. "I'll just slip into something," I said, smiling nervously.

"No need for that yet. We still have your punishment to take care of." He smiled reassuringly. He stretched out his hand. I took off his jacket and handed it to him.

I was now staring naked in front of him again, but this time I wasn't covering myself. I had thought about the coming spanking all the way home, and I wanted it more than ever. I also wanted him inside me.

He hung his jacket up in the hall, before sitting down on the couch. He reached out his hand to me, and I took it. Slowly, as if to savour the moment, he guided me over his lap. I wiggled back and forward, trying to get comfortable; I could tell by his erection that he wanted me as much as I wanted him. My eager friend then started the spanking.

The smacks were slow, and not very hard. I laid down, enjoying the feeling of his hand against my skin. Soon, he started spanking more eagerly.

The smacks started to sting, but he spanked slowly, rubbing my bottom between every slap. The heat started to build, and soon, I was kicking my legs with every stroke, but I didn't care; I was in heaven. His hand rose and fell, bringing with them a crisp smack and a sharp sting.

I was gasping and moaning, and he stopped, asking me with concern in his voice whether I was OK. All I managed to reply was, "Don't stop! Please! Don't stop!"

He kept on spanking, moving his hand slowly from one cheek to the other, rubbing and pinching my bottom between. I was moaning loudly, the itching between my legs rising with the heat in my rear. I was moaning more and more loudly, and suddenly, I was sitting on my spanker's lap, kissing him passionately. He responded quickly, helping me to my feet and standing up while our lips were still locked.

We moved towards my bedroom, all the while removing his clothing. By the time we reached the bed, he was as nude as me.

The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror, looking at my bottom. It was deep red, and sore to the touch. I knew I wouldn't sit comfortably for days. With a smile, I looked over at the still-sleeping man on the bed. I had found a man that covered a need I didn't even know that I had. Almost made me forgive my treacherous friends and give up all plans for revenge.

Almost.