A Different Son

by Bbwrr2 <bbwrr2@aol.com>

I have noticed a number of articles describing how fathers, faced with bratty or otherwise unacceptable behavior from their college age sons, have discovered the virtues of old-fashioned, bare-bottom discipline in keeping their boys in line. As a 19 year old college sophomore, I find such articles interesting on a couple of counts. I'm the first to admit, watching the way some of the guys I go to school with behave themselves, there are a lot of men my age who are really just boys and really would benefit from having their pants pulled down and their naked fannies blistered red.

But, at the same time, I think there are college guys like me who really have grown into men, just as there are guys who are older--much older--who have pretty much remained boys. You see them all the time, fellows in their thirties, forties, even their fifties, acting like little kids, and you think to yourself: "You know, that guy needs a good, hard spanking!"

As a matter of fact, looking up from the keyboard here, I can seea prime specimen of what I'm talking about--a forty-three year old man whojust never quite grew up. What makes his situation different is that, unlikemost of his type, he's had to pay the price for acting like a brat. Right now, he's kneeling with his nose smack in the corner of my home/office where the walls and floorboards meet. You're probably not surprised to learn thathis pants are pulled down to his ankles, so he's cracking a smile at me withhis hindend as he "thinks about things" while I get a little work done. I've given him quite a lot to think about already, and we're not done yet. His behind has a good pink glow to it, but its going to be red as a cherry bythe time I get through. I've got the straightback chair pulled out in the middle of the room. So far tonight, he's only felt my hand, but soon enough, he'll be sent to the closet to bring my Canadian school strap, and after that, depending on what kind of co-operation I get, we may have to finish things off with the maple paddle, the oak slat, or that long-handled birch hairbrush. Boy, does that brush make him howl!

My forty-three year old brat really pissed me off today. He got sassy at dinner in a way I just won't accept, which meant a spanking right there at the dining table. I threw down my napkin and said: "I've had enough! Get that half yardstick from the kitchen and then get your sorry rear end over here!" He whined like he usually does, but he did what he was told. He knows he _d_a_m_n_ well better! After he brought me that ruler, I yanked his pants down and took him over my lap and whaled him a good five minutes.That stick packs a sting and he was hollaring good, but I just held him down and kept on whacking.

Still, I had a date to take my girlfriend to the movies, so I couldn't give him near the licking he deserved right then. I left him standing inthe corner of the dining room with his pants around his ankles when I took off, and told him he better have everything from dinner picked up and his room

clean by the time I got back. I also told him I'd been planning on getting a little pussy tonight, and that I was pissed as hell that I was going to have to give that up because I had to get home to discipline his naughty rump.He knew he was really going to get it!

There's one thing for sure--He's not going to be sitting down for a while, at least comfortably. At his desk tomorrow at work, he's going to

squirming around something fierce, and wouldn't it just kill him if all his employees knew it was because, at home, he'd gotten a good, hard spanking! But, hell, that's the way it's got to be. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a smart-alecky dad.

Whoa! I hear you say. What was that? Smart-alecty dad! That's right. That pants-down, red-bottomed, fanny-in-the-air bad boy there in the corner is my very own old man. Now, you're probably wondering how something like this came to be. Well, the story's not that complicated, and maybe thereare some of you out here, dads and sons, who'd benefit from hearing about it.

About eight months ago, my folks busted up. It hadn't been a very good marriage, and neither me or my older brother were surprised really. Dad wasn't around all that much when I was growing up. His business had grown and grown , and it seemed like he was always on the road. I think we all

pretty much figured, when I went off to school, they wouldn't stay together.

Well, anyhow, it was summer, and right in the middle of moving intohis own place, my dad got called away on a business emergency. Since I was around, I offered to pick up what remained of his stuff from the house (which my mom got) and take it over to the new place he'd rented. He said that

would be great, so on Tuesday afternoon,

I went over to clear out the boxes of old records he kept in the basement.

Those boxes weighed a ton and there must have been thirty of them.By the time I got them loaded, I was more than a little pissed I'd gotten stuck with the job of moving them. I drove over to my dad's new place and proceeded to unload the god_d_a_m_n_ things into the garage. I was lugging about the fifth to the last one when I caught my foot on a hoe handle and went sprawling.

The box jumped out of my hand, the top popped off, and all this _s_h_i_t_

inside went spewing across the garage floor. It took me a sec to catch my balance, and then I leaned over to pick up the stuff. There were half-a-dozen video tapes, some computer disks, what looked like a lot of letters, a belt, some pictures, a couple paddles...


Now, I admit, I hesitated. If my old man was into something kinky,I thought, do I really want to know? What I thought at first, of course, was that he and my mom must have been into some sort of discipline game, or that he had a girlfriend whose little ass he liked to smack before he got a piece of it. But as I reached to pick the stuff up, I saw the magazines didn't

feature girl's butts. They were all of guy's butts getting blistered! Then I got a little freaked, thinking of some spankings I got when I was little. I picked up an envelope that had pictures falling out of it. I was shaking, I admit it, when I opened it up. And there, in full Polaroid color, I saw my old man. Some of the shots were him standing in the corner with his pants and shorts around his ankles and his backside red as a caboose. Others were of his face contorted in pain with tears streaming down his cheeks. Butmost of them were of his bare butt, bent over some guy's knee, getting his rear end set on fire with a paddle, a hairbrush, a strap, a ruler--you name it. There was one other thing. In every one of the pictures where you couldsee it, his _d_i_c_k_ was as hard as a rock!

Well, needless to say, I spent a very interesting evening that nightin front of the VCR. Pop had quite an interesting collection of tapes--there must have been fifty of them--all featuring male to male spankings. Themore I watched, the more I found myself getting turned on. By the third one,I was lazily stroking my _c_o_c_k_, imagining what it would be like to have thatbig Italian stud, that blond football player, that lithe little swimmer, that

bubble-butted black guy across my knee! I was really falling fast into the idea of whaling another guy's ass but good! It was then I popped a tapeinto the machine and, low and behold, this was some "home-grown" action. I saw a guy not too much older than me say, "You get that rear end of yours overhere right now! I'm gonna give you a licking you'll never forget!" And then,I swear to God, I see my old man sidle up, and that young guy yanked his pants down, threw him across his lap, picked up a paddle and "WHACK!!" "YE-OUCH!"

I came right then. I swear. Popped my nut. I wasn't really sure what all was happening, but I was sure of one thing. I was going to spank myold man but good!

The next day, I sat down and went through a lot of the letters, fingering my bone about half the time. In the more recent ones, it turned out Pop had actually fantasized about getting it from me. He wrote to this one guy about how guilty that made him feel, and I found myself thinking:

"Guilty? Jesus, you should have told me!" But too, in a funny way, I respected that. I wanted to set things up to show him his fantasies were

okay by his 19 year old boy, except that, if I had my way, those weren't going to be fantasies very long!

It wasn't till Saturday till my old man got home. I played it real cool. We shot the _s_h_i_t_ and barbecued some steaks, and finally, about ten

o'clock, we went inside. He turned on the tube, and I said I'd be right back. I went to the can and picked up my hairbrush. I'd bought it two days before, at the Dollar Store of all places. It was made in China, but itwas long and thick and. having given myself a half a dozen swats with it after my shower, I knew it could sting like hell!

I walked back into the living room, brushing my hair. Pop was watching some dopey tabloid show. I stood there a minute, and then I said, loudly: "Why the hell do you watch that _s_h_i_t_!"

He turned around, surprised. He's a good-looking guy for his age: almost six feet, 180, works out. And I don't have to tell you that I'd been checking out his hindparts for the better part of the day: nice and firm, like in those videos, with enough padding on them they could take quite a

licking and keep on ticking.

"I got something better to watch," I said, and I walked over to theTV and picked up a video I'd planted there from his private stock. I shovedit in the machine and pressed play. Then I turned around, softly smacking that hairbrush against my hand, and waited for the tape to start.


There was his ass, getting the _s_h_i_t_ beat out of it. My poor old man

turned white, and for a second, I felt really bad I'd pulled this on him.

But then, with just the sound of the video, I started to get hard. I knew what I wanted to do, and I was going to do it, regardless.

"Billy, I..." he started to say.

"Shove it!" I shouted. I was a little surprised at how in control I

was. "I found all your _s_h_i_t_, and I know what you need. And from now on,

it's me who's going to give it to you!"

"Billy," he said, almost pleadingly, "I never meant..."

"It's cool," I said. "You're a grown-up, and I'm a grown-up too now.And I want to give it to you as much as you want to get it from me."

He looked at me with this kind of shocked, unbelieving expression.

"Now get that sorry butt of yours over here. Now!"

Have you ever seen one of those cartoons where a bird gets hypnotized by a snake? That's what it was like. He stood up, and he came toward me, never taking his eyes off my face. He stood there in front of me, and for justa moment, I was paralyzed. I realized we were going to do something wild, forbidden, crazy. And then, suddenly, that teenaged _d_i_c_k_ of mine SCREAMED. It was like coming without coming, as if all the come, instead of shooting out of my _c_o_c_k_, instead shot all around inside me. My poker racheted up another knotch, harder than it had ever been. All I wanted was power.

I reached out and grabbed my old man's belt. I took it so hard I almost ripped it off. The same happened when I ripped his pants open. I did itso strong I tore the fly. I yanked them down past his knees with his shorts

along with them, and then pulled him over my lap, almost in one motion.Then "WHACK!" I brought that hairbrush down on his naked butt. I saw it riseup again and the same time I registered that "OWWW!" and I saw a bright redmark explode across Pop's hairy buns. And then WHACK!, I brought it down again, and the same thing happened only better. And then WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

WHACK! "OWWW! OUCH! OWWW! OOWWWWW!" and I was doing something I had never done like I'd been born to do it. I was a butt-blisterer by nature!

Our situation ever since then was pretty much established that very first night. I spanked my old man for hours, sent him to the corner, made him do chores with his pants around his ankles, took his temperature and

gave him an enema, and sent him to bed with a buttplug up his asshole. He loved every minute of it. You could see by that hard pecker he was sporting even when he was bawling like a four year old. He goes off every day and

visits construction sights and orders all these hunky boys around with a fanny so sore he can hardly sit down, blistered red by his 19 year old son. And when we're home, I'm the boss, no questions asked.

We've got a collection of spanking tools that would make most people's hair stand on end. I whale Pop's fanny almost every night, and it's not unusual for him to come while he's getting his licking. It's then when I

spank him extra hard for making a mess on my slacksf, and he seems to love those punishments even more.

I can't complain. I like to spank him right before I got to bed. Iput on a _c_o_c_k_ ring because I don't want to shoot while he's wailing and wiggling across my lap. Then I go to bed, put on a _f_u_c_k_ movie, and it takes me about half-a-dozen strokes to get off, and then I can go to sleep. I've had the same pussy-fest on the machine for a month now. I've still got a quarter

reel to go.

It's funny. The other time I really like to spank the hell of him is just before I go on a date. I can feel the juice just pulsing through methe whole night if I've given the old man a real blistering. It's like beingon drugs. That's what he says it likes getting spanked, but, believe me, I never want to find out about it from that end.

The strange thing is that, with girls, spanking never turned me on at all. I tried it with one girlfriend. She was game. But I gave her about four good shots on her naked tush and she started to howl like a banshee.

And hell, it didn't do anything for me. If I'm giving a spanking, I wantit to be a guy, an older guy, my old man.

You're gonna have to excuse me now. It's tail-tanning time at the old homestead. Tonight it's definitely the school strap and THEN that hairbrush. I'll have him pleading like a ten year old--"Billy! Nooo! OOOWWW! OOWWWW! Please! I'll behave!"

Hey, a guy's gotta take care of his old man, ya know!

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