The Shipping

MNote: there is truth in this story, for those who look for it. Otherwise, it is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental.

The one thing I wanted for my eleventh birthday was a new bike. I had a bike, but it was a kid's bike, and my dad had bought it second-hand and fixed it up and painted it red, and it was old and other kids in my neighbourhood had better ones, racing bikes, the kind with more than one speed and caliper brakes.

My old bike had a tough time keeping up with my friends' bikes, and I thought I was old enough for a real bike, not a worn-out old kiddie bike like the one I had.

I felt guilty for wanting something so extravagant, when my parents, with four kids, struggled to make ends meet and, besides, were spending a fortune to keep me in an exclusive public school, while my sister and my brothers went to regular schools.

But, it didn't keep me from wanting a new bike. I was well enough behaved and made good marks and I really felt that I deserved it. After all, I was going to be eleven, and that really wasn't being a child any more. After all, I was finished with grade school; I would be in first form in the Fall, and I could wear long pants to school. I was pretty grown-up, I felt, and ready for the responsibility of a full-sized bike.

As it got closer to my birthday, I tried to drop a few hints, without sounding too much like wingeing.

"My bike is really getting kind of worn out," I told my dad one afternoon."The chain rattles and the front mudguard is about to fall off."

"That would be a good project for Saturday," my dad said." I'll help you. We'll get it fixed up, good as new."

That was a joke; it had been old and beat-up when I had gotten it, three years ago.

I even told my dad about my friend Georgie's bike. He had gotten one past Christmas, and it was brilliant. I told my mum all about it. She listened, and then explained to me how tight money was and how we all had to do with less, since my dad had spent the previous year out of work. She didn't mention the cost of my school, but I understood.

The day of my birthday came. My mum had baked my favourite cake, with pineapple filling. My grandmother came, and several of my friends: Georgie and Brian and Ritchie, and we had cake and ice cream in the back garden.

I got lots of presents. I got some clothes, including a new pair of jeans that I had wanted. I got a couple of ogreat model airplane kits. I had model airplanes hanging from the ceiling in my room.

Best of all was my grandmother's present. My grandmother always gave money for birthdays: one pound for each year, so I got eleven pounds, which was like getting a whole years' allowance all at once! My grandmother always hand-made birthday cards, and they were elaborate. The envelope had a window cut in it, so that the Queen's face seemed to bep looking out. My head was spinning with ideas of what I would do with the money, and none of it involved putting it into my savings for when I went to university: that was so far into the future that it seemed like a dream.

We had tea and then supper and I must have looked somewhat disappointed because my dad asked me if something was wrong and didn't I have a good birthday and I said yeah, and then he asked me if I felt all right and I said yeah and sat down to watch television.

I sort of watched some Western and tried to forget about not getting a new bike. After awhile, my mum looked up from her magazine.

"Bwill," she said to my dad, who was immersed in the evening newspaper."Didn't you have something else for Carl?" My dad looked at me over the paper.
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"As a matter of fact," he said, laying the paper aside and rising from his chair."I believe I left it in the garage..Why don't you come along?" He said to me.

I was more than a little anxious about going out to garage: it was the location of some of the worst spankings I had ever gotten. But I got up and followed my dad out to the garage, just a bit worried that I might have done something wrong. I couldn't think of anything, and besides, I didn' t think my dad would whip me on my birthday.

We went into the little garage. It was pitch black inside. My dad flipped the lights on. There, on the middle.of the floor was a brand-new green racing bike, a three speed model with caliper brakes and everything. For a moment I wqw speechless. Then I started jumping up and down and yelling.

I hugged my dad and thanked him over and again.

"This is q real bike," my dad said."It isn't a toy. It's q big responsibility. You're going to have to take care of it and put it up when you're not using it."

"I will! I will!" I insisted. I.was really going to take care of this bike. I wanted to keep it in my room that night but my dad said no, that it would be fine in the garage. I finally relented, but I could barely get to sleep.

The next day was Saturday, and I couldn't wait to show Georgie and go riding. Georgie Townsend was my best friend and we were always together. He was my age and, like me he was kind of small and skinny. In fact, we were about the smallest boys in our class.

Georgie was blond, like me, with cool blue eyes. He wasp about the coolest boy I knew. We went to school and church together, and were both acolytes. He was the greatest fun to be with. We were inseparable.

Georgie's family was prominent in town and they had money, but Georgie never put on airs like some of the other boys. He always shared with me and I with him. We had the greatest fun. He was up for anything I came up with and I usually went along with anything he wanted to do.

I had had my new bike for about a month. It was getting into August, and it was beautiful and warm out. One Saturday, after lunch, we were down by the playground trying to come up with something to alleviate our boredom. We had pretty much covered the whole area that we were allowed to ride around.

I suddenly had an idea. I knew if I told Georgie that he would want to do it too, and that we would wind up doing It, even though we would really be in trouble if we were caught.

One of the coolest places to go was down at the Water. We used to go there with our dads. You could have a great time down there: there were huge cranes and other machines loading and unloading all kinds of exotic goods to and from the ships that came in and there were ships from all over the world. We used to play a game, seeing who could spot the most different flags.

"I have an idea," I said."but I guess we had better not."

"What?" Georgie said, eagerly. I knew I shouldn't tell him but I couldn't help myself.

"We could to down to the shipping," I said."Only we' d better not." Georgie screwed up his face for a moment and then broke into a grin.

"Yeah," he said."But it would be brilliant!"

"Not if we get caught," I said. We both thought about this for a moment. If we got caught, there would be Hell to pay. We both knew that.

"We could take the side roads," he mused."my dad is watching telly. He won't be going anywhere."

"Mine either," I said. We talked about it for awhile. The more we talked about it the better the idea seemed. We could take the back roads, instead of The Ave, which was very busy and we weren't allowed on it. Nobody would see is and if we saw anyone we knew we'd duck out of sight until they were gone. We finally resolved to go.

It was a long ways from Portiswood to the harbour. The ride took over an hour because we took the back roads and got lost at least twice. When we got there we bought a couple of cokes and some candy floss. We ate junk food and rode around the Quays for a couple of hours.

Around four we started back, so as not to miss tea. We for back to our neighbourhood and split up, Georgie headed towards how house and me to mine.

I put my bike up in the shed and walked into the kitchen. My mum was having tea and my dad, who didn't drink much tea, was having a cup of coffee. I could hear the television blaring in the parlour, some stupid kiddie show the younger kids were watching. I said hi and started up to my room when my dad stopped me.

"Have a seat, son," he said. My mother excused herself and left the room.

"Uh, okay," I managed. All of a sudden, my jubilation turned to worry. I got a coke out of the fridge and sat down at the table.

"So. How's the new bike doing? You and Georgie getting some riding In?"

"Uh, yeah," I mumbled. I had the feeling that he knew something and wasn't letting on. I squirmed in my chair."It's smashing. It's the best thing I ever got. I really love it."

My dad just studied my face with those cool grey eyes of his, like marbles. He had a slight smile. I suddenly felt very nervous. How could he know? He couldn't. He was just trying to get something out of me. If he knew, I reasoned, I probably wouldn't be sitting down right now. I decided to bluff it out.

"Where did you and Georgie go riding?" he asked, in a quiet, even tone.

"Uh, just around," I answered."You know."

"Just around the neighbourhood?" he asked. I felt sweat trickle down my ribs. If he knew and I lied about it, I would really be in for it. If I admitted it, I might squeake by with just a spanking. If I lied, he would know it, and I'd be punished twice, once for what I did and once for lying. I was quiet for several minutes.

"Carl," he said finally."Is there something you want to tell me?" I swallowed hard. My stomach turned over. I felt like I might throw up.

"Georgie and I went down to the shipping," I heard myself say. It was almost like someone else was talking. I waited for him to blow up, but he didn't.

"It was honest of you to tell me," he said."But that doesn't excuse it. I thought you were responsible enough to handle a big boy's bike, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I need to put it up for a couple of years, until you grow up a little more."

"Two years?" I blurted out. I couldn't believe my ears. I had had my bike less than a month.and now I was going to lose it! "Please, Dad, don't take my bike away!"

"All right," he said."We'll talk about this later. In the meantime, I want you to think about what you to think about what your punishment should be." Then, he left.

That has to be about the dirtiest trick a father can play on his kid: having him set his own punishment. If you suggest something too lenient, he is apt to think that you aren't taking things seriously, and double it. If you suggest something too harsh, he might agree with it, and then you are stuck. I sat in my room, brooding, until supper time. i didn't want to lose my bike. I knew I was in for it, but I would have taken double spankings to keep my bike.

I was quiet during dinner. I didn't eat a lot. I went up to my room and waited until my dad came upstairs. He knocked on the door and then he came in.

"Have you thought about your punishment?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," I said. "Well ... uh ... I guess I deserve a spanking."

"You're getting a spanking," my dad said. "What else?"





Else? Wasn't that enough? I was sure my dad was going to skin me alive. I tried to think of something I could add that wouldn't be two bad.

"Uh, maybe you could take my bike away for a week?" I said.

"A week?" he shook his head. "How about this: you don't get to ride your bike again until I feel that you are responsible enough to handle it. Then, and only then, will you get it back."

My heart sank. He could keep me from my bike indefinately! I might not see it again ever!

"Please, Dad," I pleaded. "Don't take my bike away!" I was almost in tears.

"You brought it on yourself, son," he said, pulling his belt out of the loops. "Now, pull your jeans down and bend over."

I pulled my jeans down and bent over my father's knees. The belt stung like hell, especially after he pulled my briefs down and gave me about thirty licks on my bare bottom. I was bawling by the time he was through. My butt was on fire. It felt like bees had stung it. I jumped into my bed and cried into the pillow for a long time.

The next day was Sunday, and I was an acolyte at our church. So was Georgie. We met up in the vestry, where we changed clothes. I told him what had happened, and what my dad had said.

"Damn!" Georgie said. "I got the same thing. My dad whipped my butt when I got home and told me I could have my bike when he was sure I was responsible enough."

This was weird: us being punished exactly the same. I thought about it for awhile, the whole thing smelt fishy. Georgie and I compared our battle scars. His butt looked about as sore as mine. We both had trouble sitting in the high wooden seats during the service.

Three weeks went by and no bike. I was absolutely angelic; my mother remarked that she had never seen me so helpful. Still, my dad didn't mention my bike and I was afraid to bring up the subject with him for fear that it would mske mstters worse. I resolved to stay quiet about it and I swore Georgie to silence, too.

At the end of three weeks, my dad asked me to sit down and talk with him..

"You have been a great help over the past few weeks. Your mother is very proud of your behaviour. If you will promise to stay within bounds, and not to do anything stupid, you can have your bike back."

I was ecstatic. I couldn't wait to show Georgie. I rang him up to tell him all about it.

"That's funny," he said, over the phone. "My dad let me have mine back, just this morning. I was just about to ring you."

This was very disconcerting. First, our dads already knew about our little excursion and, second, both Georgie and I received the same punishment. For a long time, we thought our dads had some kind of ESP or something. Every time we were about to do something that might get us into trouble, we looked over our shoulders.

Of course, the truth behind the story, which I learnt much later, was much simpler: a neighbour, who hated kids anyway, had seen Georgie and me down by the Queen's Quay and rung my mum to tell her. She had told my dad, who had called Georgie's dad, and they had worked out a scheme to punish us exactly the same, just to keep us on our guard. It had worked, because, for the longest time, Georgie and I were pretty much convinced of our fathers' omniscience.

How I Got So Kinky: Part One

I am not sure about how exactly I developed my fetishes, but I long ago stopped worrying about why I have them and just enjoy them.

Pretty much everybody who knows me at all knows about them, so there is no reason for me to be embarrassed about them. So here goes:

First of all (and most importantly), I am really into spanking. This is one of my earliest kinks, going back to grade school. I used to have fantasies about being with other boys and spanking them and being spanked by them.

When I was about seven or eight, some of the boys I went to school with played a spanking game at recess. It was a tag game, only when you got tagged, you were taken to the "spanking stump", where whoever was "It" sat down on the stump, pulled you over his knees and gave you a spanking. This was a lot of fun until one of the teachers found out and stopped it.

Of course, I have written about my experiences with my friend's big brother, who used to spank me a lot when I was at their house; I really got of on that.

When I was 13 or so, I had a friend named Michael,who lived in the next block. Sometimes I would visit and wee would wrestle. It was my idea to Include a penalty for the loser (you can guess what THAT was!). We wrestled in briefs and socks, and got spanked in our briefs, which turned us both on. There was no sex between us, but we.did jack off together sometimes. I loved watching him whack off. Sometimes, we would race to see who came first. I usually lost the wrestling and won the race.

When I was 17, I had a boyfriend who was really cool. I adored him. He was a couple of years older and knew his way around. I desperately wanted him to spank me.but I was afraid he would think I was a freak.

I decided that the best way to do it was to annoy him until he did it, so one week-end I set out to be a total bitch and every time he complained, I said:"What are you gonna do about it? Spank me?"

Eventually, he got so exasperated with me that he told me he WAS going to spank me. When we got back to his.apartment, he sat down on the couch, pulled me over his lap and spanked me on the seat of my jeans.

I stood up and laughed and told him it didn't hurt, so.he pulled my jeans down and s6panged me harder. Then, he pulled my blue bikinis down and spanked my bare bottom until it was burning. When I stood up, my cock was sticking straight out. He said, You really get off on this stuff, don't you?" I said yeah, and we went into the bedroom and I let him fuck my butt good and hard.

Later on, he asked me: "If you really like getting spanked, why didn't you just ask me to?"

"Well," I said. "I didn't want you to think I was weird."

"Carl," he said, with a grin. "You were weird before I even knew about the spanking thing!" After that, all I had to do to get one was just act snotty. He would look at me sternly and say: "You're going to get it when we get home!" When he said it, I often got hard then and there.


I had another boyfriend later on who really got into it with me. We'll call him David (not his real name). I had known him for a few years. He was about seven years younger than I was, and he was thirteen when I first met him. He was tall and slender, with blue eyes and copper-coloured hair down to his shoulders. He had the hottest little bubble butt. I was turned on by him when I first met him, and we became good friends. He was bright and friendly and outgoing and we hit it off as friends right away. He used to visit all the time and hang out with me. We would talk about all kinds of things and we played chess a lot.

I didn't see David for several years, as he had moved away. I wound up renting a basement room from his sister, Elaine. I was working at a restaurant nearby. One afternoon, I got back home and was surprised to learn that David was there. He moved into a room on the second floor. We wound up spending a lot of time together. He was 17 then.

One night, he was hanging out in my room and we were playing chess and watching television. He was wearing a pair of light nylon running shorts and t-shirt. He really looked hot in the shorts. He asked me if I would give him a back-rub (I did this frequently, and he really enjoyed it). He slipped his shirt off and I straddled his hips and gave him an intense back rub, made even more intense by the fact that we were just a bit toasted. My crotch rubbed against his hard little butt, and I got a boner in my jeans.

I got off of David and told him to roll over. He giggled.

"I can't," he said.

"Why not?" I asked.

""'Cause," he said, giggling again. I prodded him in the ribs.

"Roll over right now!" I said. He laughed and rolled onto his back. He had a real boner, and it was all too obvious in his flimsy shorts.

Well, we wound up having sex and he wound up telling me that he had been crazy about me since he was thirteen! He wound up moving in with me in my basement flat and we became boyfriends.

One night, we were playing chess. I had desperately wanted to spank him for some time, but didn't know how to bring it up. I finally suggested that we play a game where the winner would pay a penalty. We were both a bit toasty and feeling good, and he said "Okay, what penalty?"

Well, of course, I said that the winner would get to put the loser over his lap and give him a good spanking. He laughed at this.

"What's the matter?" I said. "Afraid you'll lose?"

He agreed, and we played a game and I won. I sat down on the corner of the bed and motioned him over. He thought the whole thing was really funny. He couldn't stop laughing. I pulled him over my lap and started spanking him on the seat of his jeans. He kept giggling, and said, "Ow" a few times. Then I told him to pull his jeans down. He stood up and unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, still laughing.

I pulled him back over my lap. He was wearing a pair of tight white nylon bikini briefs that I had bought for him, and I spanked him pretty hard, and he said "Ow" a few more times and his legs kicked. Then I pulled his briefs down.

"Oh, no!" He exclaimed. He was still giggling. This time I really spanked him hard, until he was writhing in my lap and saying "Ow" a lot more and with more emphasis. I finally let him go when his bottom was really red. He stood up, rubbing his behind, with a big grin on his face and a big boner.

"You just wait," he said. "It'll be your turn next!"

We played two more games. David lost the first one and I spanked him again.

"Ow," he exclaimed afterwards. "My butt is sore!"

The next game, he won and it was my turn over his lap.

"Now, I'm going to get even!" he said. He gave me a good, hard spanking after that. The more I complained, the harder he spanked, until my butt was as red as his had been.He definitely got his revenge!

I stood up, rubbing my red-hot butt. He got a good laugh out of that.

"Damn, your butt is red!" He said over and over.

After that, we played a lot more spanking games. Sometimes we would wrestle or play some card or board game, with the winner getting to spank the loser. Sometimes, he would grab me by the back of the neck, in public, and whisper in my ear: "You've been bad. You're getting a spanking!" Sometimes, I did the same to him. Of course, the spankee always protested and yelped and squirmed while getting spanked. That made it a lot more fun.

One afternoon, David had told me several times that I was going to "get it" when we got home. When we did, he surprised me by pulling his belt out of the loops. I got a really intense spanking with the belt. We started experimenting with different implements.

I don't know where, but David got hold of a school cane somewhere, and we both had striped bottoms before the night was over. I bought a ping-pong paddle and removed the rubber bits and sanded it smooth. That became one of our favourite weapons: it stung like hell and didn't bruise. Spanking became a major part of our sex play.

One night, we were at a party at a friend's flat. There were about twenty or more guys there, and it was a really fun party. Both of us were feeling good. I started doing little things to annoy David, and he glared at me a couple of times.

"If you don't behave," he said, sternly. "I'll take you in the bedroom and blister your butt good!" I thought he was just kidding around until he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me over to where the host was standing.

"Excuse me," he said to Tom, who was throwing the party. "Could we borrow your bedroom for a few minutes? I have to talk to Carl in private." Tom said "sure", and then David dragged me into the back bedroom, where he proceeded to pull my jeans down and give me a good, hard fifteen-minute spanking with his belt on my bare bottom!

When we rejoined the party, my butt was really sore. I was rubbing my sore rear end and Tom came over.

"Well," he said, amused. "Somebody must have been a bad boy tonight!" At this, several people laughed, and I felt my face get hot, but nowhere near as hot as my wounded bottom. It was kind of a turn on, knowing that everybody had heard me being punished. It got me really aroused.

We decided to take a trip out of town for my birthday, so we got a hotel room in the East End and went out to do all the gay bars in town. I was definitely feeling no pain when I announced to David that I was going to see how many birthday spankings I could get in one night. So, every bar we went into, I announced: "My name is Carl and this is my twenty-fifth birthday. Who wants to give me a birthday spanking?"

At twenty-five, I was actually pretty hot. I got a lot of takers. Two guys spanked me bent over a pool table in one place, while onlookers counted the spanks out loud.

The last place we went in was kind of a leather bar. David wasn't so sure about it, but I said it was no problem. We went in. There were a lot of guys wearing leather and chains and biker stuff. So, I made my announcement, and a fat guy at the end of the bar with a high-pitched, squeaky voice volunteered his services. He sat on a stool and motioned me over.

"Pull your jeans down," he said, and I did. He pulled me across his lap. I was wearing a tight nylon bikini, and it didn't do much to soften the blows! He had a huge hand: it covered both cheeks at the same time. I had no idea the guy could spank as hard as he did, but after about six, I was twisting and yelling, while he gave me one of the hardest spankings I had ever gotten in my life! When he finally let me go, my butt was burning! David was convulsed with laughter. We left to go somewhere else, me limping a little and rubbing my bottom.

"You've only got yourself to blame," he said. "What were you thinking, walking into a leather bar and asking for a spanking? You are really daft!"

"I am really sore," I said. "I think that's the last spanking for me tonight." The last one made thirteen. I had to abandon my goal of getting twenty-five birthday spankings in one night. My poor little butt couldn't take any more.

"Nope," David said, slapping me on the butt. "You've still got one more, at home!"

"Oh, no!" I exclaimed, and I meant it. I never forgot the night of my twenty-fifth birthday.

Jonathan

NOTE: the story you are about to read is true; some names have been changed to protect the very guilty who won't know anything about this because he never bothers to read anything. He was a lot of fun, even if he was a little odd.

Did I mention his cute little butt? He had the hottest little round bottom. I desperately wanted to put him across my knees and spank his bare bottom until it was .red.

Jonathan liked to be a nuisance, until he could get me to react. I started to threaten him with a spanking if he didn't behave. He would just laugh and go right on doing whatever it was he was doing in the first place.

One afternoon, Jonathan had come in from work and taken a shower. I was watching television in the living room when he wandered in, wearing a pair of white briefs.

I kept trying to watch television while Jonathan dido everything he could to distract me, finally standing right in front of the screen. Once again, I threatened him with a spanking if he didn't behave. He walked over and stood right next to me.

"What are you gonna do about it," he said." Are you gonna spank my little bottom?"

At that, I grabbed his left wrist, pulling him across my lap. He squirmed a little, but he didn't really struggle much. I proceeded to deliver a good hard series of swats to the seat of his tight white briefs. At this, he squirmed some more and protested loudly.

I tugged his briefs to his knees. His little white bottom was pink, with a couple of angry red handprints. He begged me not to spank his bare bottom, and I answered by spanking.him really hard, until his butt was crimson. Then I let him go.

He jumped up and danced around a little, rubbing his wounded behind.

"Ow!" he said, bending over."You hurt my little bottom!"

It was pretty red. I had a boner and so did he, so we got nekkie and played around.

That's how I found out about Jonathan. He lived with me for awhile and we spanked each other and had sex a lot. We particularly got into it when we did a certain party drug.[ Note: the author does not in any way support the use of illegal drugs, no matter how much fun they are to take.] Then, we could spend a good part of the evening spanking each other.

Well, he got a boyfriend and moved in with him and we didn't see each other much for awhile.

One night, I was at party where everyone was taking this certain drug. I was already feeling very good and had put on a jock strap under my jeans, which felt really good, when I ran into Jonathan.

He wanted some of what we were doing, so I loaned him money so he could do some too. After awhile, I was about to leave he asked me to drive him home, which was out in the country, and I said okay.

Of course, we were both feeling good, and my jock strap REALLY felt good. As I started the car, Jonathan said: "Would you do me a favour?"

"Depends," I replied."What is it?"

"Would you give me a spanking?" he asked.

"Have you been bad lately?" I asked.

" Yeah," he said.

"Me, too," I said."Do I get one too?"

"Of course!" he said, and laughed.

I drove for a long time before I got to his house. When we reached the door, his mood changed.

"You better go," he said. It was a mistake, getting mixed up with my old friends again."

So, I started home, which was way across town. I had gotten about half-way when my phone rang. It was Jonathan.

"I'm sorry," he said."Please come back. You can spend the night."

So, I drove all the way back. Jonathan met me at the door and hugged me. I went inside and we just hung out for awhile, sitting on the bed. I finally stood up.

"Okay if I take my jeans off?" I asked. He said sure, so my jeans came off and there I was, standing in front of him in my jock strap. He rubbed my crotch. It tingled.

"Wait till you see what I got on," he said, pulling his jeans off. He.was wearing a tight cup-support brief, without the cup. His butt looked great In them.

"I've been really naughty," he said. He came closer and I pulled him across my lap. I started to spank him and he moaned and wriggled as I spanked harder. Then I pulled them down and spanked his bare bottom until it was cherry red. He stood up, rubbing his hot little butt, with a huge grin on his face.

We hung out for awhile and then I tried on his supporter while he put my jock on. Then it was my turn to get my bottom warmed up by him.

He spanked me and then pulled them down and gave me the best spanking I had had in awhile. A little while later, he got hard and fucked my ass and later on I fucked his.Then we slept for awhile, and I went home.

I found out later that he told his boyfriend that I got him fucked up and raped him. Of course, nobody who knew the two of us believed him, but he hasn't talked to me since, and did a lot of really mean things to me, so we're not friends any more.

It's really a shame. We really did have fun together. Oh, well. It's his loss, really.

Carl Spanks Me Again!

I spent a lot of time over at my friend Billy's. I stayed over week-ends a lot. I enjoyed it because it got me out of our house. My dad and I didn't get along very well, so I was glad to spend any time away from home. Billy was my best friend, and his mom always provided things to do, like movies or games or trips to cool places and, of course, there was my namesake.

When I say I craved Carl's attention, I mean it. I didn't know why, but I looked forwards to seeing him, even though he tortured me at every opportunity. Sometimes he would grab me and tickle me until I couldn't catch my breath. A lot of the time, this involved pushing me down on my back and straddling my skinny hips, so that his crotch rubbed against mine. Sometimes, I could feel something hard rubbing against my stuff, even though I didn't know what it was. Sometimes he would push me down on my tummy, so that his crotch was rubbing against my bottom while he tickled me. Then, I could feel his hard pete-pee rubbing against my butt crack. For some reason, this excited me, and my own pee-pee would get hard too.

The utterly coolest thing to wear when I was ten was a pair of Levis. All the older boys wore them, and they were cool, so I desperately wanted a pair. I begged and begged my mum for a pair, around my birthday, but she didn't understand why I wanted them, when they were more expensive than the jeans she bought me at Woolworth's. Mothers really didn't understand what was cool and what wasn't, and what a status symbol Levi's were. I begged and pleaded and offered my allowance money to help pay for them, and she finally bought me a pair.

I was ecstatic! Now, this was back on the old days, before jeans came pre-faded and pre-shrunk. When you got a pair of Levi's,they were almost black and smelt like creosote, and too stiff and scratchy to wear. It was part of boy-lore how you made them wearable.

First, you had to soak them in the bathtub overnight, in hot water with some fabric softener. That about got my butt whipped but good, when my dad saw the blue stain in the tub the next day. I spent about an hour with a brush and some scouring powder over that one!

Next, you had to wash them four or five times in hot water, so they would fade to blue and be soft enough to wear. Mothers always bought your clothes kind of big back then, so you could "grow into them", so you always wound up looking like Charlie Chaplin, but I talked my mum into getting me a pair that fit, even if they were too long, which was okay, because all the boys wore them with cuffs turned up, which was cool.

So, one week-end, I showed up at Billy's I'm my brand-new, properly treated Levi's. He was totally envious because he didn't have a pair even though their family had more money to spend than ours (he subsequently got a pair by telling his mum that it wasn't fair that I jad Levi's and he didn't).

That afternoon, as were up in Billy's room. We were stretched out om his bed, reading comic books, when Carl came in. He was wearing his Scout uniform, with shorts and neckerchief, and he was sunburned a little. He looked awesome!

As he walked past me, he ran his fingers through my crew-cut, messing it all up.

"Hey!" I protested, sitting up and trying to fix my hair."Quit it!" He sat down in the chair by Billy's desk, with a big grin.

"Quit it!" he saiid, mocking me. I started to get mad.

"Get out, shithead!" Billy said. We had just learnt the word, and were using it to describe everyone who made us cross."This is MY room! Go back to YOUR room and leave us alone!" Carl laughed.

"I can do whatever I want," he said, leaning back in the chair."I'm in charge of you little shits until Mum gets back tomorrow." This was true, because Billy's mum HAD left him in charge while she took Susan to their grandparents'.

"I'm telling! You said the 's' word!" Billy said.

"What if I tell Mum you called me a shithead?" Carl retorted."Who do you think she's gonna believe, you or me?" Well, he kind of had us there.

"Besides," he said."I came up here to give Carl something."

"What?" we both asked, warily.

"Something special," Carl said, nonchalantly."But, I guess, if you don't want it ..."

"What is it?" I asked."Do you have it on you?"

"It's right here. If you want it, come get it."

"No, don't!" Billy said."It's a trick!" I stood up anyway, and walked over to Carl.

"So, what is it?" I asked. He grinned an evil grin.

"It's a spanking!" he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me across his lap. My feet were in the air and my fingers touched the floor.

"Hey!" I protested, indignantly."I didn't do anything!"

"You're a brat," he said, and he picked up Billy"s wooden brush from the dresser. I had felt the sting of a hairbrush on my bottom before, from my dad. I started struggling, but Carl looped his right leg over mine, holding me tight, my legs kind of spread.

"I am not a brat!" I protested.

"Yes, you are!" Carl said, and brought the hairbrush down hard, on the seat of my new Levi's.

"Owww!" I howled. It hurt, even through the denim. I squirmed and twisted.

"Say you're a brat!" Carl demanded.

"No! I won't!" I said. Carl peppered my butt with the hairbush until it throbbed.

"Owww! Okay! I'm a brat!" I howled."Lemme go!" He just laughed again and kept on whacking my bottom.

"Leave him alone!" Billy protested.

"Owooo!" I howled. This REALLY hurt!

"You're next!" Carl said to Billy. That shut him up. He continued his assault on my increasingly sore rear end.

Finally, he let me go. I stood up, rubbing the seat of my jeans.

"Pull them down," Carl ordered.

I started to protest, but one look at his face and I meekly unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans and pushed them down to my knees. He pulled me back over his lap, grabbing the waistband of my briefs and pulling them up so tight that I got a super-wedgie. It pulled my stuff up tight and my bottom-cheeks were exposed. I was afraid he would use the brush again, but he began to spank me with his open hand. It burned like crazy and I whimpered some, but my pee-pee was getting all stiff and tingly. I wriggled some, but I didn't cry out.

Then, to my total embarrassment, he pulled my briefs down, exposing my bare red bottom, right in front of my best friend!

I looked up, trying as best I could not to cry. I wriggled and squirmed, glancing up at Billy. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring, his mouth open, as he watched his big brother give his best friend a blistering, bare-bottom spanking. I looked up imploringly, and he shifted uncomfortably. I tensed my butt, but it didn't help. Carl pulled my legs apart with his right leg and started spanking the inside of my buttcheeks! My dad had NEVER spanked me there! It was tender there and it burned like fire! No amount of squirming and wriggling did anything to help.

Say you're a little sissy-boy!" he demanded.

"No!" I wailed, but he kept on, spanking my bare bottom. It was on fire! I begged and pleaded, but nothing helped. I finally gave in:

"Okay!" I wailed."I'm a sissy-boy! Please!"

He finally let go of me. I stood up, my feet dancing a little, as I rubbed my VERY sore bottom.My pee-pee was sticking out from my hairless crotch. I tugged my briefs up, wincing as the cotton scraped my burning butt. I pulled my jeans up and tucked my shirt in, and buckled my belt. Carl stood up.

"You gonna behave now, brat?" he asked, kind of gently.

"Uh-huh," I said, quietly.

"Good," he said. He mussed my hair again. Then he left.

"I can't believe he did that to you," Billy said."That must have really hurt. He really hates you!"

"No, he doesn't!" I retorted."He was just playing. It didn't hurt that much. Honest." I rubbed the seat of my jeans. My butt felt really hot, and my pee-pere was still stiff and tingling.

"You're weird," Billy said. Then he laughed and I did, too, and we went back to reading comic books, until dinner. I admit, I had a little discomfort,sitting. Carl made cheeseburgers. He let us stay up late and watch TV.

I had just put my pajamas on and I was brushing my teeth when Carl came into the bathroom.

"I didn't hurt you, did I, brat?" he asked.

"Nuh-uh," I answered. My bottom still felt warm. Then, to my amazement, I blurted out: "You can spank me.anytime. If I'm bad."

"Okay," he said, mussing my hair again."But only if you're bad." He patted my sore bottom on the way out of the door. I made up my mind to be just a little bad, when he was around. And I was.

At Billy's House

When I was about nine, I had this friend named Billy. Billy lived on a different neipghbourhood, a more upscale one than the one we lived in. His mother played the organ at our church. She was divorced, which made her the focus of some attention by many of the old ladies in our parish. Besides Billy, there was how little sister, Susan, who was four and Billy's older brother, Carl, who was thirteen.

I thought Carl was amazing. He was tall and slender, with light brown hair and blue eyes. I thought him about the most amazing creature I had ever lake eyes on. I was truly fascinated by him. The first time I ever met him, he was dressed in how Scout uniform: olive shorts and shirt with Scout badges all over it. To me, he was the absolute embodiment of everything cool.

Every time I was over at the Thompsons', Carl would mess with me. He would wrestle me to the ground and hold me down or punch my arm or just generally torment me. Billy was convinced that his brother hated me, but I knew better: after all, Carl was thirteen. If he didn't like me, he wouldn't have paid me any attention at all. The fact that he took the time to torture me meant that he really liked me.

I was spending the week-end with Billy once. We were playing with toy soldiers in his sandbox, in the garden. I remember I was wearing my favourite blue and white striped shorts. I had had them for a while, and I was getting too big for them: they were really tight.

We were busily engaged in sandbox warfare when Carl came out of the house. He was wearing blue jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. He yelled something to me but I ignored it and went on playing. I didn't notice that he had crossed the garden until he grasped me by the arm.

He pulled me roughly to my feet and dragged me over to the garden table. Sitting down on one of the chairs, he pulled me across his lap.

"Hey!" I squealed, struggling."What are you doing? Let me go!"

He just laughed and held me tight. I squirmed and twisted, but I couldn't get free. Then, to my horror, he hooked his fingers in the waistband of my shorts and tugged them down to my knees! There I was, bent over Carl's lap, in front of Billy, in my white cotton briefs!

Carl's hand came down sharply and smack my bottom hard. It really stung, and I let out a yelp of pain.

"Ow!" I cried."That hurt! Quit It!" Carl paid me no mind and continued to spank my behind. It.was really starting to burn. I squirmed to no avail: his grip on me was too tight.

"Ow!" I yelped, tightening my skinny little butt (which only made the stinging worse)."Please let me go!"

Carl paid no attention to my pleas, but just spanked harder, until my bottom was on fire, and I started to cry.Only then did he finally release me. I stood up, rubbing my tender butt and sniffling a little. I pulled my shorts back up, glaring at him.

"Next time I tell one of you brats to do something you'd better bloody well do it, unless you want another spanking!" Then he went back Into the house, leaving me rubbing my blazing bottom.

"I'm telling Mum," Billy said."He can't just spank you like that!"

"No, don't!" I pleaded."I don't want Carl to be angry with me! Promise you won't tell!"

"Okay," Billy promised."I won't." I breathed a sigh of relief. It had hurt; in fact, my bottom was pretty sore,but I craved any attention from Carl, and, to tell the truth, I had kind of enjoyed his spanking me. It gave me a funny tingling between my legs, and it had made my nine year-old pee-pee kind of stiff, like when I rubbed on it. In fact, I kind of hoped he would do it again.

So, that was my first spanking at the hands of my namesake. There were many more, and I enjoyed every one, until Billy's family moved away, and I didn't see Billy or his brother any more.

Camp Stories #1

Make up your mind whether or not it happened (a lot of postings will be like this one):

I went to Summer camp when I was twelve. I was a skinny little guy, smaller than most of my classmates. I was tow-headed and wore glasses, too, so I got picked on a lot at school. I was asigned to the "Apache" cabin (all of the cabins were Indian names). I quickly made friends with Johnny.

Johnny was stockier than me (I probably weighed about 90 pounds) and a year older. He was stocky, not in a way that you would call fat, but losing his plump boyish shape for a stocky, athletic one. I remember that he had a big, meaty butt. It wasn't fat, exactly, but it sure filled out his jeans pretty good. We hung out the whole time we were at camp.

Because Johnny was older, he knew a lot of things that I didn't. He also talked me into things that got us both in trouble. Like this one time, afetr we had had archery, and actually got to shoot real bows and arrows, when we had a couple of hours to kill, we hooked up with two boys from the Sioux cabin. One of them, Greg, had a pint of vodka, that we all took gulps of, until it was empty. It burnt like fire, and I had a hard time keeping it down. I got kind of woozy.

Then, the other boy, Ian, produced a joint. I had only smoked weed once, with a few friends, and I had gotten pretty silly on it, so I really didn't want to, but I did it anyway. I got really wasted, and I couldn't stop laughing. Johnny got concerned and guided me back to the cabin. Nobody was there, that time of day, so we thought we were safe. Everything was okay until I let the screen door slam and tripped over a camp stool and went sprawling, laughing all the time.

To our chagrin, our counselor, a tall ginger-haired boy named Rick, came charging out of his room at the back of the cabin. He looked down at me, lying on the floor, giggling.

"What are you two doing back here?" He demanded. "And what the hell is wrong with you, Carl?"

I got to my feet, still giggly, and tried to look him in the face. I couldn't, without laughing.

"What's so funny?" Rick asked me, gripping my shoulder and pulling me close to him. "You're wasted!" He said. "I can't believe you two got wasted. Do you know how much trouble I could get into?" Suddenly, I didn't feel like laughing any more.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Really. I mean it."

"Well, I could turn you both in to the Head, but youl'd both get booted out of camp. You want to get booted out of camp."

"No."

"No, Rick," I pleaded. I knew what would happen to me if I got booted out of camp. "We won't tell."

"Well," he looked down at both of us. I felt a chil run up my back. "I can't just let you two get away with this, can I?"

"I guess not ..." I ventured.

"Uh, why not?" Johnny ventured, but a stern look from Rick set him silent.

"So," Rick mused. "What do you suppose I do with you two?"

"Um, nothing?" Johnny tried.

"Uh, we could do stuff, like clean up?" I offered. Ricks look withered me.

"Nope," he said. "I think I have to give you two brats something to remember the next time you decide to do something stupid. Wait here." He indicated my bunk, and we both sat down. We wouldn't be sitting so comfortably, later.

Rick walked back into his little room. We heard him rummaging around. Finally, he emerged with two items in his hands: a collapsible camp stool and a wooden hairbrush, about an inch thick, and as broad as my hands. He set the stool in the middle of the floor, and sat down on it.

"Okay," he said, slapping his palm with the brush, meaningfully. "It's either the Head or my punishment. Which is it going to be?"

"Uh, yours," I said without hesitation.

"Wh ... what are you going to do to us?" Johnny asked, timidly.

"I'm going to give you both a good spanking. After that, we're cool. I won't say anything. Only, you both have to agree."

"Okay," I said. and gave Johnny a look. I had the feeling that he had never been spanked before.I had, plenty of times.

"Uh, me too," he finally said, in a little voice.

"Okay," Rick said. "So which one of you little shits gets it first? Choose, or I get to." I looked at Johnny and he looked at me. We didn't say a thing.

"Right," Rick said. "You're first, fat ass!" I thought this was mean, because Johnny
did kind of had a fat ass. Rick patted his thigh, meaningfully. With a resigned look on his face, Johnny shuffled over to the middle of the floor.

Rick pulled Johnny roughly across his lap, so Johnny's feet left the floor. Johnny gasped, as Rick pulled his plump little butt into spanking position.

"W...wait...."Johnny started, but he was interrupted by the loud thwack of the brush on the seat of his jeans. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! went the brush, and Johnny started squirming. I felt a funny tingle between my legs and realised that my pee-pee was getting hard. I shifted my legs a bit.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! went the brush, and Johnny's face got red and he started to moan.

"Please ... please!" went Johnny. Thwack! Thwack! went the brush. After a whole bunch of whacks, Rick let him up. Johnny rubbed his behind, grimacing. He started to walk away, but Rick caught his arm.

"Where are you going?" he said, with a sneer. "We're not through yet! Get those jeans down!"

"Huh?" Johnny said. A look at Rick's face told him that our counselor wasn't joking. He returned to where he was standing, unzipped his jeans, and pushed them down to his ankles. Rick grabbed his arm, roughly, and pulled him over his lap. He grabbed the waistband of Johnny's tighty-whities and pulled them up so far that Johnny's ample butt-cheeks peeked out from underneath.

"Wait ..." Johnny wailed. The wooden hairbrush found its mark on the already pink flesh peeking out from the leg-holes of his briefs. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Johnny was really squirming now, writhing, but Rick held him tight.

"Owoooooooo! Pleeeeze!" Came from Johnny. His answer was a vigorous cascade of smacks, until the tops of his legs and botom-cheeks were bright red.Johnny was crying by now.

My pee-pee was hard as a twelve year-old pee-pee gets. I knew what I was going to get. Watching Johnny get his was a turn-on! I was literally squirming, awaiting my turn. Finally, Rick let Johnny up. Johnny pulled his jeans up, gingerly, over his well-welted bottom. There were tears coming down his face.

"You, sit right there!" Rick ordered, and Johnny sat next to me, whimpering a bit as his sore butt touched the mattress. "Now, you!"

I got up from the bed and walked over to where Rick sat, hairbrush in hand. I stood there for a moment. My pee-pee was straining in my jeans. I felt tingly all over.

"I know who was really behind all this, Carl," he said.

"Not me, honest!" I offered.

"Then who else?" I thought for a minute. Johnny had already been spanked, and I was next. If I told on the other two boys, then they would get, at least, spankings, and, at most, sent home from camp.

"It was all my fault," I said. "It was my vodka and my weed. I'm sorry I got Johnny into this."

"That's very grown-up of you," Rick said. "But it won't excuse you a spanking. Bend over!"

I did as I was told. He pulled me across his lap until my feet left the floor and my skinny little bottom was high in the air. I knew what came next.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! The hairbrush stung like fire! I wriggled my little butt around, trying in vain to escape its wrath, but to no avail. It really hurt, even through my jeans! Not only that, but my pee-pee was rubbing all around in my jeans and getting harder and harder!

"Owww ..." I said, as it started to really sting. "OWWWWW!"

After about a million whacks, Rick told me to stand up. I knew what was coming next, but I really didn't want to pull my jeans down. I had had a problem for awhile, being young and, well, starting to feel horny. That morning, I had put a jock strap on, to keep my cock from showing in my jeans, and I still had it on. I really didn't want Rick to see it, particularly in front of Johnny.

"Please, Rick," I almost whispered. "Can we do this in your room?"

"Nope," Rick said. "You get the same he did, only worse, because you were the instigator."

"But I told you the truth!" I said, rubbing the seat of my jeans. "C'mon ..."

"Pull them down!" Rick commanded. My hands shaking, I unbuttoned my jeans, bent over and pushed them down to my ankles. There I was, standing there in front of Rick and Johnny, in a lightweight jock strap, with a throbbing twelve year-old boner in it!

"Jock strap?" Rick laughed. "You are a kinky little bitch!" Then he pulled me across his lap again. I tensed my bottom, anticipating what was to come.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! went the wooden hairbrush on my already sore bare behind. It stung like fire and I twisted and writhed, but every whack hurt more than the last one.

"Please! Please!" I cried. I couldn't stand it! But Rick kept the punishment coming. I looked over at Johnny. His eyes were wide.

Thwack! Thwack! went the hairbrush.

"Ow! Owoooooo!" went Carl. My bottom was on fire! It was sizzling! And every whack of the hairbrush seemed to hit the tenderest spots on my skinny little butt! My pee-pee, trapped in my jock strap, rubbing against Rick's muscular leg, was tingling like crazy! I moaned and writhed and kicked my legs and begged for mercy, but none came. Finally, all I could do was just lie there across Rick's lap, bawling like a six year-old, while my poor bottom felt like it would burst into flame."Owwwwooooo! Pleeeeze!" I wailed.

Finally, after what seemed a year, Rick let me up. My fingers touched my scorched posterior: it was hot to the touch. My pee-pee was still rock hard. I pulled my jeans up.

"So, you boys know, that if you get into any more trouble, what you'll be getting!" Rick said sternly. We both nodded our heads. I rubbed my hot ass through the seat of my jeans. It was on fire! I had been spanked before, but never like this.

Rick stood up. I noticed a very prominent bulge in the crotch of his khaki shorts: he had enjoyed this! I rubbed my tender bottom gingerly.

"So, no more trouble from you two?" He smacked the hairbrush into his palm, meaningfully.

"No, sir!" Johnny said.

"No, ..." I ventured, looking down at the floor.

"Because, any more trouble, and I know just who to come to!" He glared at me.

"I know," I said, in a little-boy voice.

"Good," Rick said. He went back into his room and put up the stool and brush. He was in there a long time. Johnny and I just sat on my bunk, afraid to move without permission. Finally, Rick came out of the back. His face was flushed, and he was a little out of breath, like he had been running or something.

"Go on. Both of you. Get out. And no more misbehaving!" We hurried out of the cabin, our bottoms throbbing.

"Ow," Johnny said, as we were walking towards the dining hall. "That sure hurt, didn't it?"

"Yeah," I said. My pee-pee was still rock hard, and I knew what I really wanted to do.

That night, while the cabin was filled with snores, I slipped my hand into my briefs and pulled on my hard pee-pee until it spurted, just a few drops, but it felt fantastic.

I didn't really want to get into trouble again at camp, but, of course, I did, and I felt Rick's wrath on my twelve year-old bottom more than a few times before the Summer was over. I got home well-tanned, in every way a boy can be.