He didn’t say a word, he just ran his hands down my back, onto my ass and then followed my cheeks down till they end. Had I known this would be the ...nly time he tried to touch me I would have been more vocal about it! I ask him to show me what he has in his pants. He is a deer caught in the headlights but manages to get his button undone, fly unzipped, and his pants low enough to show me what he had… It wasn’t anything to write home about but at least it wasn’t ugly. I smile at him and tell him. Since then, I’ve asked men to spank me in the throws of passion but never received more than a bit of a slap. I suspect a big part of the problem is that I always think of myself as the powerful one, the more dominant one. I can be "girly" around men. A “pretty girl with a hint of bitch underneath” is how I try to come across most of the time. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that maybe I’m not really dominant at all. Maybe that’s never really been my true role. I seemed to get. “Oh yes!”As if this wasn’t enough to encourage me, Paul said, “You can go faster if you like. It’s not like it’s her first time.” I took his advice and upped the pace. His hands were still there on her buttocks, as if he was holding his wife open for me. “Isn’t that a fucking amazing ass?” Paul went on.“Fucking amazing,” I agreed. I was speeding up by instinct, my cock sliding to and fro in that tight passage. I realised that Paul was pushing down on his wife, his thrusts intensifying. “Aaaah!. Then her mum helped me out, she entered the room and asked Jenny to help her with some chores, then she was gone. We said goodbye, but the moment was lost and I knew that trying to recover it would now be even harder. I had always suffered from being shy, especially in the presence of people I did not know. It was worse when that person was female and someone you fancied. I would spend the day and evening with my parents, then in the morning I would wake up with a massive hard-on thinking about.