Mad about the boy

Warning: This contribution is somewhat different from our usual content in its parameters, in that it references a spanking given by a father, and an explicit description of teenage sex. Please read no further if you think either of those factors might offend you.

During the summer between eighth and ninth grades, I had convinced my mom that I was too old to keep going to camps. The same summer, my dad (who was a skilled tradesman) was working on a large project out of town and coming home only on weekends. Mom, who had been a classroom teacher until the older of my brothers was born, had gone back to work and was teaching summer school classes.

I finally wore her down and she agreed that I did not have to go to camps – but she insisted I go to my grandparents (my dad’s folks) during the day so I would not be ‘home alone’.

So while my sister and brother shuffled off to camp each morning, I made the short bike ride a few blocks from my house to my grandparents’ home. This worked out well for me, as my grandparents were far less concerned with my comings and goings as my mom would have been, leaving me free to do as I pleased for most of the day.

I fell into the company of a small group of girls who lived on that street or nearby, a couple of whom I knew from school. A popular pastime with these girls that summer was attending small house parties, clandestinely set up at homes where parents both worked and no adults were around to spoil anyone’s fun. I later got caught shoplifting at a local pharmacy with these girls and got an epic spanking from mom with the hairbrush and strap, as I’ve already related in another story.

There would usually be a small group of girls and a small group of guys, and often couples would pair up for make out sessions in bedrooms and in basement rec rooms.

It was at the second or third of these events where I met this boy. He was a year ahead of me and had just finished his first year of high school. He was different than the boys I typically had seen. He was a bit shy but easy to talk to, he had a great smile, an athletic build and a great butt!

We talked for a long time that first time we met, about the transition to high school, about music, TV shows and movies and even sports. He was different than the other guys and didn’t seem to feel the need to be macho, and he seemed genuinely interested in whatever I was saying.

The third time I saw him, he asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. We held hands and walked over to one of the large city parks that was in the neighbourhood. We found a secluded spot by the creek that ran through the park, and that is the spot where we had our first kiss. It wasn’t the first kiss I had ever gotten from a boy, but it certainly was the longest and the one that made the most impression. I felt this electric buzz that I had never felt before.

After that, we began seeing each other on the sly. My parents had been adamant that I could not date until I was at least 16, so I found myself sneaking off to meet him whenever I could, or I would invite him over to my empty house for a late morning rendezvous while everyone else was out.

By this point, we were having lengthy make out sessions, exploring each other’s bodies over and under clothing and engaging in what the old nuns at my school would call ‘heavy petting’. 

We were alone in my room one afternoon a couple weeks before school started, laying on my bed locked in a heavy session. At some point, I rubbed his butt and I could detect a flinch. I thought nothing of it and kept myself locked mouth to mouth with him. A bit later, as he lay on top of me, I reached under his shorts and boxers and started to stroke his naked bum. That was when my fingers touched what felt like a pronounced ridge, where his thigh and butt met.

He let out a small yelp and I felt his butt flinch again. I asked him if he was OK. “Yeah,” he replied with that chagrined smile I would come to see often, “my dad whipped my ass last night and it’s still a bit sore.

All I could let out was a ‘wow’, nonplussed to discover that a nearly 15-year-old boy was still getting spanked – and freely admitted it. I asked him what he had done. He said: “I smarted off to Mom and she told Dad about it when he came home.

I definitely wanted to know more, so I confessed that I still got spankings too. I told him that both of my folks spanked, though it had been a couple years since I got one from Dad. 

Do you have to take your pants down?” I pressed. He blushed again. “Yeah,” he replied, with an embarrassed grin. He said his mom had spanked him bare butt up until the end of eighth grade and then had turned the task over exclusively to his dad.

He added that his older brother had not gotten a spanking in over a year, but his mom still regularly spanked his three younger sisters. She used a wooden spoon and sometimes the family belt, while his dad used only the belt – a two-inch wide black leather dress belt that hung in the pantry off the kitchen.

My boyfriend told me that he had been taken down to the basement the previous evening, made to drop his pants and underwear and been given around a dozen or so licks with the belt on his bare bottom while bent over the arm of a couch. The mental image of my boy’s bare bottom turned up in the air like that was fuelling a fire in my groin. “Show me!” I blurted out.

He began to protest– but then I an invisible lightbulb came on in his head. A girl was asking him to take off his pants! He rolled over and, in one motion, shucked down both the gym shorts and boxers he was wearing.

I feasted my eyes on a taut and muscular rear end that had been painted with a series of pronounced horizontal stripes. They were a deep shade of red, with some purple in them. His dad had obviously been very thorough with the thrashing and had covered virtually every square inch of his behind. The tell-tale ridges from the edge of the belt were visible in a couple of places on his right cheek.

Wait here,” I told him, as I scampered to the hall bathroom and retrieved a jar of Noxzema cleansing cream. I came back to the room and slid his lower clothing all the way off his bottom. “This will help,” I said, as I took some of the cream and began rubbing it on his bottom. At first he squirmed a bit, but before long he was writhing and moaning and humping the sheets as I rubbed the cream in. I got a major shudder out of him when I slipped my finger into his butt crack and brushed the back of his now swollen scrotum.

I rolled him over on his back, climbed on the bed on my knees and straddled him. I had taken off my shorts and now was just in a T-shirt and my panties. It was then I got my first look at what, even in my very limited experience, was an impressive piece of equipment adorned by a thick patch of coarse black hair.

He was not fully aroused but well on his way, with a penis that I would guess was between seven and eight inches. I already sensed from my manual exploration of him during our make out sessions that he was thick, but seeing was definitely believing! He was circumcised and the crown of his penis had a purple hue.

I had never done it before so I didn’t know if my technique was correct, but I leaned down and took that head into my mouth, eliciting a soft groan of pleasure from him. I was unsure of the mechanics at first but instinct took over, and soon I was licking and sucking and running my tongue up and down his shaft and now completely engorged scrotum. He lifted his butt up and began rhythmically moving his penis in and out of my mouth.

His moaning increased and his breathing quickened, then I felt him spasm and deliver a payload that not only filled my mouth but also landed on my face and his stomach. While he panted I froze, unsure of what to do next. I snapped back in the moment, got tissues and cleaned us both up.

After that, we each took the rest of our clothes off and lay naked in bed, just holding each other. It was the first time we had been naked together. Finally, I told him he needed to get dressed before mom came home and caught us – in which case, we’d definitely both have red butts! We kissed softly again for a bit, then he got dressed and left. I always remember that day as the day I fell in love with him.

I kept seeing that boy, at first clandestinely then later with my parents’ grudging approval, all the way through high school. Shortly after I graduated we got married. We spent the first two years of our marriage living in a fairly spacious apartment over my in-laws’ garage. I worked full time, took college classes and had my first baby during the time we lived there. We could not have done it without the generosity and help of my hub’s parents, especially his mom.

I tried to repay that generosity by helping her with the house, cooking, cleaning, getting kids off to school – anything to show her how much I appreciated her. She ran a tight ship and was quick to apply a wooden spoon to a bare bottom when needed, and I saw my hub’s two little sisters, who were 11 and nine when I moved in, get more than a few spankings.

Mom eventually trusted me enough to babysit for her and I was given full authority to discipline the children as I saw fit, which I did a few times. The last one I gave there was to the older of the two, who was 13 at the time, and it was with that same family strap used on my hub all those years ago, that still hung on the pantry door off the kitchen.

Contributor: Lauren

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