I happened across the Maman site and it brought back some happy memories for me. I thought I would contribute my own personal recollection of a wonderful time to be growing up as a boy.
My mum was a clippie (that is, a bus conductor, for the younger generation). She wore a smart uniform and a little cap and although she spent all day running around inside a moving bus, she wore heels to work. Up and down those stairs, and hanging on the open platform at the back, chatting with the regulars and as cheerful as they came. I should add that Mum wore dark tan stockings, even when the fashion changed to those awful tights – this is only relevant to what happens later!
I was as normal a boy as you could find. I don’t recall ever being smacked as a punishment even though CP in all its forms was still prevalent in society. Likewise, I can’t remember having any strong urges to be spanked either. I was apparently quite cheeky, but this was a part of growing up – learning what can and can’t be said and when, and I suppose early attempts at flirting with the women in my life. I was fortunate to grow up in what some would consider a more innocent age, no computer screens and lots of running around outside!
When I got home from school, I always went to the house of our next door neighbour, Mrs Bell. She was a lovely lady whose husband had died far too early, leaving her alone. I think my daily visit was something she enjoyed, and we spent an hour or so together chatting, before the bus would drop my mum off outside to save her walking home. This was an ‘unofficial’ stop right outside our house just for Mum!
As I grew older my confidence grew and I played some tricks on Mrs Bell, and had all sorts of fun with her. One particular day, she sent me to the local shop on an errand. When I got back, Mrs Bell naturally asked for her change. I held out an empty hand. She demanded to see the other hand that was behind my back. I swapped hands, moved the change to the other hand and held that out. It was, of course, all in fun – she knew perfectly well what I was doing.
Then, for the very first time that I can remember, Mrs Bell threatened me with a smacked bottom. Again, I knew this was all in fun. I played along, pretty confident that she was messing around, and slipped the change into my back pocket before holding out both hands to show no change.
Mrs Bell said: “Paul, if that money isn’t on my table in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, I’ll pick you up by your ankles and shake it out of you!” After a further brief stand off, I fished out her change with a broad grin on my face.
About that moment, the bus dropped Mum off and she came walking down the shared driveway between our houses. Mrs Bell told her all about my little prank. With a mock stern look on her face, Mrs Bell told my mother: “If I had any say in the matter, he’d be sent to bed with a well smacked bottom for his trouble!”
Mum laughed, replying: “Don’t you worry – I’ll deal with this cheeky monkey later!” We took our leave, and as we did so Mrs Bell turned to me. “If your mother doesn’t put you across her knee tonight, there’s no justice in this world – such a cheeky boy you are!” There were still smiles all round as Mum pushed me through the side gate thanking Mrs Bell for keeping an eye on me. In retrospect, I think our neighbour would have quite liked to have introduced my bottom to the palm of her hand!
Now all this took seconds – it was no more than idle threats, and with a cheery wave goodnight, Mum and I went inside. I didn’t encourage her to spank me, but we did have a laugh as I explained how I had messed Mrs Bell about a bit.
Amid the laughter, however, Mum replied: “Actually, I agree with Mrs Bell. You do deserve a smacked bottom. I’ll deal with this matter at bedtime.” I still didn’t take this threat seriously, and Mum went about her business in the kitchen, cheerful as ever.
I sat doing my homework before tea, then went outside to play in the garden. By the time bedtime came around, I had more or less forgotten my mum’s threat. I’d seen a few smacked bums given out in class at school, and two boys I knew had been caned for fighting, so I wasn’t completely innocent in what a smacked bottom was all about, I suppose.
I was called in from the garden just before dark. As I came through the kitchen, Mum said: “I’ll be up soon to deal with you.” I think I was surprised that she apparently planned to follow up. I still can’t have been too seriously concerned – I playfully poked my tongue out at her and she smiled in reply, although she did add: “You’ll soon be sorry you did that!” I cleared off to wash and get ready for bed. There might have been an element of curiosity, or even anticipation, but certainly not worry or fear.
Mum came into my bedroom to check that I had everything ready for school the next day. She was still wearing her work uniform, minus the blazer and cap. Once we had been through our usual ritual, Mum put her hands on her hips and said sternly: “Right then, young man, we have to have a little talk, don’t we?”
I dived into my bed, pulling the covers up under my chin, laughing. Mum had a big smile on her face. “Oh no, you don’t!” she cried – it was like a pantomime!
Suddenly, I was pulled from the safety of my bed by my ear, laughing all the way. Mum took me to my bedroom chair and in a second had me across her knee. I was then hoisted up and forward and in the same movement mum crossed her legs. I was airborne! I felt that I was slipping a bit, such was the sharp angle, and instinctively I grabbed Mum’s left leg with both hands.
This was my first feel of a nylon-covered leg – and it was instantly a nice feeling. At that moment, it had a bigger impact on how I would feel about such things. Spanking, or at least being smacked, was not the be all and end all of my world, but I was enjoying the game nevertheless. I’m not sure how I might have felt had this all been for real, though!
I wriggled to get comfortable, and my hands slid up then back down Mum’s leg. That first feel has stuck with me for life. It wasn’t sexual at the time, but it felt nice, and I clung on for dear life. Mum tugged me back a bit as I seemed to be too far over, this meant my hands slid back up her leg, until she had me in the perfect position, unable to touch the ground with either feet or hands.
Mum’s left arm wrapped around my middle, and I felt the light tapping of fingers on my raised bottom. My thin pyjamas offered little protection. With no more than these tapping fingers (for the moment!) Mum reminded me of how kind it was of Mrs Bell to look after me each evening. “Being cheeky to her is completely unacceptable,” she added sternly. Despite everything, we were both still laughing and I’ve no doubt Mum was enjoying the game as much as I was.
“Now, Paul,” Mum said: “I am going to give you good, long and hard spanking on Mrs Bell’s behalf. What’s more, I am going to give Mrs Bell permission to smack your bottom herself if there’s any repeat of your nonsense. Is that clear, you naughty boy?” This rhetorical question was delivered along with two pretty hard smacks. I laughed out loud both because the smacks stung and made me jump.
Mum then started to spank me properly. She smacked at a regular tempo and quite firmly. I would estimate 20 to 30 smacks were delivered to the seat of my pyjamas, and my laughing became almost hysterical as I wriggled and cried out at every slap.
After she stopped, Mum left me hanging across her knee for a few seconds, then her smacking hand went to the waistband of my pyjamas. “Have you learned your lesson, or do I need to take these down and start again?” Now a bit embarrassed, I assured Mum that I had indeed learned my lesson.
“Good,” she replied, then to my utter shock added: “We’ll just have these down and add a few more to make sure.” “No!” I shouted in protest, wriggling in vain to escape. Fortunately for me she relented, but added a fast flurry of even firmer smacks to my pyjamas seat, which took my voice up a few octaves. As she added a few final smacks, she added: “I shall make sure to tell Mrs Bell she has my blessing to smack you bare bottom in future!”
She finally released me and ordered me into bed immediately. Boy, did I move quick – my bum really stung!
Once safely under the covers, I looked back up at Mum’s grinning face. She looked very pleased with herself. “Remember, next time, those pyjama bottoms come down!” she said. I smiled, nodding, feeling a very nice, tingly heat spreading from my buttocks to other parts of me. “You wouldn’t, would you, Mum?” I asked. “Just you wait and see!” she smile back.
With a kiss on my forehead and a touch of her hand on my face, she whispered: “That’s enough fun and games for one night – now, go to sleep.” Smiling, she turned to give me a last look, and with a shake of her head turned out the light and shut my door.
I have no doubt that evening was the start of my lifelong interest in stockings, legs and spanking – in that order. It took me ages to get to sleep – I replayed the spanking over and over in my head. The feel of the nylon stockings was still the best bit for me, though.
After that, I was often threatened with the removal of my shorts or pyjamas and a long and very uncomfortable period of time across Mum’s knee, but such threats were always in fun. Mum never smacked me again – not ‘properly’ – just the odd smack now and then, and a few play pats fighting on the sofa or at bedtime.
I did get a few smacks in passing from Mrs Bell, though. That was fun – but Mrs. Bell never wore stockings or even tights. She mostly wore jeans or trousers, or a short skirt with thick, wooly winter tights. I am quite sure she would happily have put me across her knee with just a little encouragement.
It was a wonderful time to be a boy. Providing you behaved you could avoid serious punishment. I had a great relationship with both Mum and Mrs Bell. Sadly for me, our neighbour found love again later in life and moved away to start a new life when I was in my mid-teens. I missed her terribly.