Fletch's Birthday Spanking (PartsI&II)

by Firmhanded<firmhanded@aol.com>

Fletch was my obsession for about two years in school: light brown hair, perfectly smooth, slender but muscular body, and a smile that could make my stomach do flip-flops at a hundred yards! His family was one of the richest in town, but he was unaffected, easy-going, and popular with everyone. He had a way with people that was as graceful socially as it was physically. I think he sensed that I was vaguely in love with him--and maybe he even knew that I was pretty confused by those feelings. Though he was one year ahead of me in school, we were friends, mostly because I was a neighbor, I think. I wasn't in the close circle of older guys he hung out with, but he would include me in things from time to time.

In his senior year, his parents threw an enormous birthday party for him (his 18th) in their home -- dressy, with a live dance band, an outdoor buffet, and even an open bar for the kids over sixteen (the drinking age back then in our state). Practically the whole school was there. It was like a prom without the stuffiness of having to come in couples. I came over early to see if I could help out, but Fletch's mom shooed me upstairs with a big smile and told me that the biggest help I could be was out from under foot. As I headed up the stairs, she called out that Fletch'd need all the help I could give him to get him into his tux 'cause he was too big to have his mother tie his bow-tie, or at least that's what he thought, she said laughing!

As predicted, Fletch was standing in front of the mirror in his shirt and slacks struggling with shirt studs, cufflinks, bow-tie, and cummerband. He turned and smiled that big smile of his and asked me to close the door. Apparently the tie thing had got to be a joke between him and his mom 'cause the first thing he said was that he had to get his tie perfect even if it took all night, but that he didn't want his mom coming in to watch him goof it up. I was no help 'cause the only tie I'd ever worn was a clip-on I wore to church, so I sat in a chair and watched him. God, he was beautiful! From behind, his upper back muscles showed through the thin white shirt and made me feel a bit weak in the knees. The sharp V sloping down to his waist was really a sight. And his dress pants were just tight enough so I could make out where his asscheeks curved in on the sides. I was content just spending time with him alone watching him screw up his face in the mirror while he concentrated on the bow-tie and shirt studs.

A few minutes later though, three of Fletch's senior friends burst in through the door with laughs and shoves and the mood was ruined. I never could figure out why Fletch hung out with these guys: they were rough, arrogant, and from "the other side of the tracks" as we used to say then (which in our town meant the East European and Irish Catholic neighborhoods). They had a personal, conspiratorial relationship with Fletch in and out of school. They took him on some of their escapades, and usually got into trouble, and Fletch, with his charm and politeness (usually) got them out of it. Lonnie, the leader of the group, and Fletch, once got paddled though in the vice-principal's office for some sort of mischief and the rumor was that they got into a fist-fight right in front of the vice-principal supposedly because Lonnie was trying to take full responsibility for whatever trouble they' d gotten into and asking that he be given both their punishments while Fletch wasn't going to let him take his share. Eventually they got paddled side by side over the VP's desk with their pants down (though paddlings at our school were usually on the seat of the pants). At least that's what everyone said--the image of the two of them bent over in their underpants and being paddling together was burned into my brain and kept me awake at night for ages after that.

Anyway, as soon as the three of them had the door closed, Steve asked Lonnie for smokes and ordered me to open the window. I expected Fletch to protest since I knew his parents forbid smoking in the house and didn't let him smoke at all. Instead, Fletch tossed something off his dresser at Steve and added, "Use that for an ashtray--and blow it out the window, okay?"

I hated the way they walked in as if they owned the place, but I was probably mostly jealous of their obvious familiarity with Fletch's room and their close intimacy with Fletch. Lonnie, the big Irish kid, laughed at the way Fletch ws struggling with the shirt studs. "I better do that for you, pal." He walked over and put his arms around Fletch from behind and popped in the studs. (Where did he get to know about shirt studs?!) Lonnie's broad shoulders dwarfed Fletch who was otherwise pretty well built. When he was done he picked Fletch up by the armpits with a whoop and turned him around in mid-air for us to see. Once we had voiced our approval, he lifted him back around in front of the mirror, slapped him on the rear end, and then turned a gave a big stage wink at Steve. They joked and talked for a couple more minutes, but then the mood changed subtly and the guys began to exchange half-hidden, leering smiles. I began to get nervous.

"So, uh, Fletch," Steve said. "Things are looking good downstairs--music, presents...and that cake's a killer! But we noticed that whoever was making the plans left something out, and we was just coming up to let you not to worry about it, we're gonna take care of it for ya." "Oh yeah? What's that, Steve?" Fletch asked. "Well, you know, you got all the traditional stuff and all, but, you know, there's uh--protocol--yeah, that's it, protocol, to take care of. I mean, this being a big event and all, gotta make sure we don't forget anything, right?" Fletch stopped fiddling with his tie for a second and turned around to examine Steve. At this point all three of them were grinning like Cheshire cats. "But, uh, we sort of figured there might be some things you'd like to settle between friends, you know, not with the whole world in on it and everything," Steve said glancing in my direction. "As a favor, I mean, to you, the birthday boy, you know, 'cause you're a friend and all, we could take care of some of the, uh, "protocol" just amongst us like." "Uh-huh," Fletch said vaguely, with an expression halfway between a smile and a suspicious frown on his face. "And just what might that be, my man?" "Oh, we just figured it'd be a shame to have this big ol' party and everything if the birthday boy didn't get....." Steve glanced at his pals and added with a smirk, "...his birthday spanking!" Fletch let go of the tie and spun around so his back was against the dresser. He was smiling but his tone was trying to be serious and decisive. "No way, man. You can just forget that." Nobody moved. "Sorry guys, but no way," Fletch said, glancing a little nervously at the three of them. Still silence. Fletch smiled again, anxiously, "I mean, keep it cool, alright?" Well, now, Fletch, we can always take care of this during the party with everyone watching, you know. In fact, that sounds like more fun anyways, eh guys?" Fletch looked slightly alarmed at this suggestion. Lonnie guffawed loudly, "Bet the ladies would enjoy that!" Steve walked over to Fletch and put his arm around his shoulders. "I just thought you'd rather get it over with up here, you know?" Suddenly Steve's arm closed around Fletch's neck in a headlock. His voice suddenly sounded menacingly calm and flat, "So you tell it to me straight -- now or at the party, Birthday Boy?"

"Jesus! Let go, will you?" Fletch said as he tried to twist free. The third guy, however, reached down and grabbed Fletch's ankels and hoisted them into the air--Fletch was horizontal, held aloft only by his neck and feetE "Ow! Put me down!" "Only when you make up your mind, pal," Steve said, and tightened his grip. "Alright! Alright already, let go!" "Now, Fletch?" "Yeah, now," he responded in exasperation. Steve let him go.

Fletch straightened his shirt, ran his hand through his hair and in a matter of seconds regained his easy-going smile and demeanor. "Okay, okay...guess it is my birthday, right?" He glanced over at me with a bemused smile, as if to say that he was really just humoring these guys.

There was another long silence. "So?" Fletch asked, "What do I do--bend over?" Silence. "Over the chair or what?" he asked irritatedly. Silence. "WELL??!"

Steve stared at Fletch with a blank smile for a moment and then said, "Well, Birthday Boy....." Steve and Lonnie looked at each other and smiled. Fletch stared back at them for a clue as to what was up. Lonnie cut in, "Birthday Boy, why don't you start by dropping those fancy pants you got on." "Oh no you don't! Hold it right there!" But Steve's buddies grabbed Fletch and pinned him in place in a split second. Then Steve swaggered over, grinning, and slowly began slipping Fletch's suspenders off his shoulders, unbuttoning his pants, and then lowering the zipper....

Fletch struggled a bit but he was held firm. He gasped out in a hoarse whisper, "Steve! Cut it out!," but even as he protested the tux pants fell to the floor and in a single motion Steve's accomplices flipped Fletch over the bed and stretched him out on his stomach. One guy held Fletch's ankles while Lonnie held his wrists pinned high up behind his back. Fletch's head hung over the bed just in front of me as I sat frozen on my chair. He swung his head my direction once and mustered a slightly disjointed smile and a shrug, trying to indicate that this was no big deal, but he was breathing a little too heavy and looking too shook up for the movement to have its desired effect.

"Alright, alright, guys, but watch the tux, okay?" Fletch said with feigned toughness, "A birthday spanking's one thing, but you wrinkle my tux and you got serious trouble, understand?" His effort at bravado ended in an unconvincing laugh. No one else made a sound. We were all transfixed by the sight of Fletch held captive -- and the heavy menace of the impending spanking made everything seem as if it was taking place in slow motion.

Fletch was held tightly in place over the bed, smooth muscular thighs bare, and a snatch of white jockey shorts showing from the side-cuts of his shirttails. I was unable to move a muscle. Then Steve bent down and melodramatically raised Fletch's shirttails, lifting them up towards his shoulders, exposing his back and those firm, twin mounds nestled in their tight covering of cotton. Fletch's ass muscles clenched and released over and over again. The sight of those beautiful curves made me ache somewhere down in my gut. The atmosphere in the room was tense to the point of snapping, but Steve deliberately stalled by removing his jacket and hanging it on the doorknob, then making a show of rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Fletch had kept his head down resignedly for most of this, but finally he twisted round to see what was taking so long.

"Would you get it over with already? My mom will be up here any minute to find out what's keeping me!"

Steve leaned over Fletch and then, with an achingly sensuous movement that took my breath away, he hooked two fingers into the elastic waistband of Fletch's underpants and began to draw them down ever so slowly over the rise of his ass, revealing first the crisp tan line at Fletch's waist, then the sharply chiseled cleft between his cheeks, and finally the rounded expanses of tender, white flesh.

As soon as Fletch felt Steve peeling down his jockey shorts he started kicking and writhing again. Steve had to stop for a second, but the guys wrestled him firmly back into position. Steve savored every moment of Fletch's distress.

"Come off it, Steve!" Fletch said angrily, then looked back anxiously over his shoulder at his half-lowered jockey shorts. In a pleading, reconciliatory tone he made another try to stop the slow, exposing descent. "Steve, come on..." Steve just smiled. "This isn't funny anymore....I mean it....don't pull 'em down any fur....Aaaargh!" Fletch cried out in frustration as Steve reached down and proceeded to bare Fletch's ass at an even more tantalizingly slow rate. Fletch looked like he was going to explode from exasperation at this ordeal.

He glanced over at me once again, but this time with mortificiation and anger at being forcibily bared and at his total helplessness. His face was flushed, his hair disheveled, and he was breathing in great gasps. As the elastic waistband was drawn down over the undercurves of his butt, Fletch closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and growled deep in his throat out of raw frustration.

"Knock it off, you bastard!!!"

But Steve was now tugging hard and the underpants were soon free and sliding down Fletch's thighs to well below his knees. There was an audible gasp for breath from all of us--only then did I realize we'd all been holding our breath in absolute silence while Fletch was being involuntarily stripped before us.

Steve ran his hand up the inside of Fletch's thighs, cupping his palm over one ass cheek and letting his fingers play teasingly in Fletch's crack. When Steve's fingers pressed down into that sensitive area Fletch arched his back like he'd been given an electric shock and growled again. His uncovered ass was incredible--taut, firm with smooth snowy-white sking and the fullest roundest curves. The imperiled flesh tensed and went slack convulsively under Steve's menacing touch as if the now naked globes of Fletch's ass were gasping on their own in fearful anticipation of what awaited them.

Steve stood up abruptly, pushed down hard on Fletch's back with his left hand. His right hand flew up into the air and landed on Fletch's bare ass with a resounding open-palm slap: SMACK!

Fletch let out a yelp of pain and surprise at the strength of the blow. His whole body heaved up and down. In seconds Steve's handprint glowed red on Fletch's fair skin. "CHRIST!! Steve, cut it out, I mean it! The whole house'll hear you1" "Only if you keep hollering, Birthday Boy." As if on cue, the music downstairs started up. "See? Nobody can hear you now, pal." SMACK! "Steve!" Fletch called out in a tight, high-pitched voice. SMACK! "Ow! Stop!....Ow!....[SMACK!] ....Not so hard!....[SMACK!]...._d_a_m_n_ you! AAhhh!

Steve was pulling no punches. Each stroke was delivered so hard I could see the muscles bulging in his arms and chest. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Fletch was choking back his cries as best he could, but no one could have withstood that barrage of punishment in silence for long.


Fletch tried to turn from one side then the other, but each time he was rolled back into position, and each time Steve waited till his target was directly beneath the stinging blows. WHACK! WHACK!

The slap of each contact sounded like a gun-shot in the room. SLAP! Fletch's ass jerked up with each blow and he let out a sharp gasp as his back arched up just before the next fiery smack landed on his defenceless backside.


Fletch's eyes were brimming with tears and he heaved in contortions struggling not to let them flow. Finally he couldn't hold back his groans any longer.


The blows finally stopped. Fletch held himself stiffly and angrily on the bed. "Let go!" he demanded. "Still one more, Birthday Boy," whispered Steve and reached down and rubbed Fletch's tomato-red bottom. "Just one more." Fletch slumped over the bed, head hung down so that none of us could see his face, resigned, and completely submissive to the impending final blowE


The last thwack cracked like lightning. I could have sworn the room shook. Fletch let out pitiful sharp cry and then collapsed. Steve's buddies let go and stood up. Fletch immediately covered his face in his arms. For a couple of very long minutes nothing was said and no one moved. We all stared at Fletch's now docile nakedness and the violent contrast between his fair smooth skin and the angry red splotch that straddled his asscheeks and upper thighs. Finally Fletch propped himself up on his elbows and said, "You're a real mother_f_u_c_k_er, you know that, Steve!?" Then he broke into a very weak approximation of his usual grin. Steve and Lonnie laughed. Fletch's hands went back to massage his rear end, but Steve sat down on the bed and started to rub his ass instead.

"That hurt like hell, you bastard!" "Wow! Feel how hot it is!" Lonnie reached down and ran his hand over Fletch's ass. "Did he really hurt you, buddy?" "Yes! Goddammit!" "Ya okay now?" he asked almost tenderly. Fletch let out an angry huff of air before answering, "Yeah, I guess so." Lonnie broke into a big smile, "Good, Fletchy boy, 'cause it's my turn next!"

Fletch's head jerked up and his eyes widened as soon as he saw the expression on Lonnie's face. In a split second he bounded off the bed and leapt to his feet. "No way! I swear to God I'll yell and get the whole house up here!"

Lonnie smiled confidently and, putting one foot up on a chair, he crooked his finger at Fletch and gestured with exaggerated politeness that the Birthday Boy should come bend over his upraised knee. Fletch was sputtering his refusal and reaching down to pull up his pants when Steve's hand shot out and made a grab under his shirtfront. "Well, well....will you look at that!" The third guy stepped behind Fletch and pulled back his arms till Fletch was arched backward and we could all see that Steve had his hand wrapped around Fletch's _c_o_c_k_ -- which was rock hard!

"Looks like Pretty Boy here likes getting his bare bottom spanked!"

Fletch flushed deep red. Steve grabbed him by the hair of the back of his head and pulled his face up close, "So, Fletch, what's this? You just a bad little boy who gets off on the feel of a man's hand spanking your pretty little behind? Eh?"

The other guy shook his head and laughed, "So the poor little rich boy likes having his bare butt smacked! I wonder what else gets this boy's fanny hot?" And he reached down and grabbed at Fletch's ass.

Fletch shook his head violently no, and gasped from behind clenched teeth, but he couldn't seem to say anything. Getting caught with a hard-on seemed to have taken the fight out of him. Steve and the third guy propelled Fletch toward Lonnie's up-propped leg, Steve leading with an iron-grip on Fletch's _c_o_c_k_ and the other guy pushing from behind with one hand squeezing one of Fletch's ass cheeks hard.

Fletch was muttering, "No....please...," but he didn't, or couldn't, put up much physical resistance. When they held him in front of Lonnie, Fletch made one last, almost tearful, appeal. Lonnie was a giant, a real muscled tough, but was also the most likable of the three. "Lonnie, please!" Fletch gasped, "pleeez.....not hard!"

Lonnie's response was to reach over and pop out the shirt studs one by one and then peel Fletch's dress-shirt back over his shoulders. The third guy slide it dwon hi arms and off entirely. The black silk bow-tie was left, still half tied, around Fletch's neck.

Lonnie grinned, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and flipped Fletch over his leg. Fletch was bent so far over that his ass was left high up and exposed, his feet and hands barely made contact with the floor. His asscheeks were spread wide by the angle and Lonnie ran his fingertips over Fletch's reddened buns and then brushed down into his crack. When he grazed Fletch's pucker Fletch moaned and tried to clench his cheeks together to protect himself, but in order to do so he had to hold his legs out straight into the air, and in a few seconds he could no longer hold the position and he slumped back into his limp position over Lonnie's knee, asscrack spread wide open, exposed and defenseless.

"Pretty boy, if you liked what Steve did to you, you're gonna love this! Hey Steve, get me a towel, I don't want Fletchy Boy here shooting his load all over my good trousers!"

"Lonnie.......please, no!" Fletch moaned, "God, please don't...Oh, Jesus!....Lonnie!...."

From where I sat I could see the smooth expanse of Fletch's overturned torso cutting upwards in a sharp V-line to his narrow waist, that crisp tan line, and then the outward curve of his hips and those pale globes of muscle branded with red handprints, and finally the well-defined leg muscles descending down the opposite side. Fletch was desperately trying to keep his thighs clenched together, trying to protect that oh-so-private spot, that sensitive cranny that no boy willingly exposes, that soft little backdoor which was now forcibly bared and spread for all to see, and worse, threatened with a burning-hot spanking from Lonnie's huge muscled hands.

Lonnie paid no attention to Fletch's moans. He started with powerful resolute rhythmic swats right across Fletch's pucker. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

Fletch gasped at each stroke.

Slowly Lonnie picked up the tempo (SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!) and Fletch's moans soon drew out into one long wail that rose and fell with the rhythm of Lonnie's hand which struck harder and harder across the soft center of Fletch 's bare bottom.

Soon Lonnie was spanking as fast as he possibly could and still put real power into each stroke, it sounded like a printing press, fast and HARD! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! And faster.. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! And FASTER... SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK

Fletch's body arched into the air as he let out a low-pitched howl, "AAAaaaaaahhh" The tears flowed. Lonnie spanked harder and faster in a mighty crescendo at the end, and then, suddenly, it was over. Fletch cried out but whether from relief, fear, disappointment, or just surprise I couldn't tell. Lonnie abruptly stood Fletch up on his feet.

He could hardly stand. He stood in front of us shuddering violently, his eyes tightly closed, swaying slightly, hands frantically rubbing his backside, desperately trying to cool the flames licking across his burning bottom. Once or twice he ran in place for a few seconds sort of like a little kid throwing a trantrum, he was breathing in big gulps, as if he'd just run a marathon, and struggling to swallow every once in a while in between gasps. I was terrified. He still had an enormous erection.

Lonnie walked over to him and put an arm around him. Fletch winced fearfully and tried to pull away. Lonnie whispered soothingly to him, though, and Fletch relaxed. Lonnie turned to the others with a grin" "I figure he deserves to shoot that load, don't you? Hell, from the looks of it, if he doesn't shoot that load he's gonna explode!" Then he spit in his palm and reached out for Fletch's _c_o_c_k_. Fletch moaned in gratitude as Lonnie began to stroke, he nearly lost his balance, and then collapsed, moaning and sort of sobbing, against Lonnie's shoulder.

The third guy, whom I didn't really know, chuckled and turned to Steve. "Why don't you make his pal here suck him off?" pointing at ME! "A guy who takes a bareass birthday spanking like that deserves a _f_u_c_k_ing blow-job if you ask me!"

Steve and the other guy turned toward me. I panicked and sprang for the door but they caught me and in seconds forced me to my knees. Lonnie led Fletch over, one arm twisted behind his back. I looked up to Fletch for help, but he didn' t -- or wouldn't -- catch my eye. I don't remember much except that one guy had my arm twisted hard behind my back and someone else had me by the hair and was forcing my mouth open by squeezing my cheeks.

Steve whispered in a hoarse, strange voice, "Now, no teeth, pal, just let it slide in nice and easys." I shook my head away a couple of time, but then they really grabbed on tight. Somebody put an armlock around my neck and then Fletch's _c_o_c_k_ was being pushed between my lips and I could taste the saltiness of him. Fletch's light brown pubic hair was all I could see. Then I closed my eyes.

It only went on for a minute or so, I couldn't breathe, it seemed like hours. Then there was a sharp on the door and the voice of Fletch's mother, "Yoo-hoo, everybody decent in there?" The still hard _c_o_c_k_ slid out of my mouth and I was released. Steve was at the door telling Fletch's mom that we'd all be right down. The tension broke, the guys left laughing loudly and telling us they'd meet us downstairs. Lonnie called back up to us from the stairway not to diddle-dally too long or people'd wonder what we were up to!

Fletch knelt next to me. "You okay?" he asked softly. He put a hand on the back of my neck and began to rub my shoulders. "They're assholes...really...God _d_a_m_n_ bastards...I'm sorry.....you okay?.....I'm so sorry..." I think I was sort of sniffling or maybe even really crying 'cause I remember that Fletch got up and brought back a handkerchief which he handed to me. "Get up...come on....sit here on the bed.....that's it.....Jesus!...." He sat down next to me and shook his head ove and over. Eventually he said to me, "Look, I've got to get ready. You just sit here and relax for awhile while I get dressed." He stood up and pulled up his underwear, then went over to the dresser and stared in the mirror with his back to me.

Fletch called my name very softly and I turned to look at him, but he didn't turn around. He shook his head again, then stared up at the ceiling and laughly bitterly, "Well, I guess Lonn was right about one thing...I really have to.....," he stuttered a bit, "...I, uh....would you mind if.....jeez, I just gotta shoot this load! Would you mind, uh...?" In mid-sentence he turned toward me sheepishly and I suppose my eyes must have been wide with fear thinking he was asking me to finish what the guys had forced me to start. "Hey, hey....no, no, no....I just mean....hey, calm down!....hey, I just want to beat off!" I relaxed a bit.

"You want me to leave?" I asked.

"No," he said slowly, "not really," and then looked at me even more shyly, "I just wanted to ask....I mean, would you mind, uh, not telling anyone? I mean, about me beating off and....uh, about all of this?" He gestured vaguely at the bed.

I fell irrevocably in love with him at that moment, I think.

"No, sure.....go ahead...I mean...no big deal."

Fletch turned back to the dresser and I saw his right hand plunge down into the front of his jockey shorts and he let out an involuntary gasp of pleasure. He other hand traced light circles around his nipples.

"I swear I've never jerked off with anybody in the same room before, really! It's just that...uh...after what happened..." His voice drifted off. "Aaaaaaaaah......."

He began to lose track of me, completely taken over by the rhythm of his own caresses. He opened a drawer of the dresser and pulled out a handtowel that he let hang from the edge of the open drawer. He was so beautiful, so outrageous and yet so coy, standing there with his back to me. Slowly his left hand left his nipples and came around to caress his ass, first through the jockey shorts, then sliding down inside his tight underpants. My heart was pounding like a jackhammer just watching that hand slip down inside the waistband of his underwear. Then he began slowly to pull down his underpants from behind, thumb hooked into the elastic, making soft moaning sounds of protest, and I realized that he was no longer aware of my presence at all, he was reliving the spanking....

When he had slipped his jockey shorts down to his thighs, he began to bend further and further over the open drawer of the dresser, finally resting his forehead on the top of the dresser, caressing his asscheeks and whispering," No.....no....NO!" I thought I heard him whispering Lonnie's name and felt a jab of jealousy. "Stop!...Oh, God!...please stop!...." His ass began to clench in spasms and he began to jek forward and backward while his right hand pumped away like mad. Suddenly he came in long, gut-wrenching spasms, his ass tensed and he cried out. Then he paused, gasping for breath, still bent over with his forehead on the top of the dresser. Slowly he turned sheepishly towards me, and, as if suddenly becoming aware of me again, blushed violently. He fell onto the bed and grabbed my hand, "You promised! Never a word to anyone, right?"

I had watched all of this yearning desperately to walk over and touch him, to put my arms around him, to press myself up against him, to jerk him off, caress him....but my stomach was twisted into knots and I felt literally dizzy from the intensity of what I was feeling. I had never even thought half of these thoughts before and and it was frightening. I was too scared and too mesmerized by the sight of Fletch standing there naked, masturbating to the echoes of Lonnie's hand across his bare bottom and the afterburn of the fiery stinging smacks still visibly branded on his naked behind.

When he turned to me on the bed, though, to ask so sweetly, "Never a word to anyone, right?" I threw my arms across his bare shoulders, drew him to me, and pressed my face into his neck, I began to sob as the tension finally broke. Fletch said nothing but just held on tight. At some moment I stopped sobbing and my hands began feverishly to explore his body. I slid my hands down to his ass and cupped his cheeks in my palms. Fletch reacted immediately. He crushed me close to him and gasped, "yes!" over and over again while I frenziedly caressed the still burning orbs of his ass.

Then he sat up, leaned over and whispered with his lips against my ear, "I'll make up for what they did, I promise you, I'll make up for it." Then kissed me square on the mouth, to my surprise and utter delight. "I promise!" he said again.

[Dedicated to Jimmy-Boy and Daddy Eric who
reenacted this story down to the letter
to let me know they liked it!]

The rest of Fletch's birthday party went as planned. But the memories of what had happened up in Fletch's room before the party came back to me every night for weeks as I tried to fall asleep: the image of Fletch stretched out and held in place on the be d while his pants and underwear were pulled down and the sight of him getting spanked bareassed first across the bed and then again bent over Lonnie's knee..all the details were burned into my mind...but especially the sight of Fletch with an erection, th ose moments when I had been forced to take him in my mouth, seeing him jerk off rubbing his red asscheeks...and finally the feeling of him hugging me and telling me over and over that he would make it up to me... My imagination went crazy with what that might entail, but in all of my fantasies I never came close to what he eventually offered me.

For a couple of weeks nothing happened, but then Fletch's parents decided to go to away for the weekend and Fletch pulled me aside abruptly after school one day and whispered, "Come on over Saturday morning. My parents are going to be out of town." His voice sounded a little breathless and nervous. "I owe you, right?" he asked anxiously. He stared straight into my eyes searching for some confirmation that I understood what he was referring to. My heart started pounding as soon as he told me and I jus t barely managed to choke out, "Sure...Saturday morning....I'll be there..." He saw in my eyes what he wanted to see, 'cause then he broke into that beautiful smile of his and almost shouted, "Great! See ya then!" and took off running. I could hardly w ait the three days till Saturday. Every now and then I would think that perhaps I was misinterpreting what was going on, but then I'd remember Fletch's obvious nervousness when asked me and the tone of his voice when he said, "I owe you, right?" and I wa s certain something was really going to happen. Everytime I thought about it, it made my stomach feel all queasy and gave me a raging hard-on!

When Saturday finally arrived, I couldn't figure out how early to go over to Fletch's. I was up at dawn. Something in me wanted to catch him still in bed...in his PJ's or underwear....I wanted to get another look at his body ....and if I went over while he was still in bed, I would probably get to see him get dressed. So I went over at about eight in the morning, and, with my heart pounding so hard it sounded like a drum in my ears, I let myself in the front door without knocking (nobody locked their d oors back where I was growing up). And then I climbed the stair quietly to Fletch's bedroom. The door was part way open and there were sounds coming out of his room that I couldn't figure out... smothered, struggling sounds... I froze for a moment and didn't know what to do, but then I snapped into action and pushed the door open. I only looked at what was happening for a moment, it startled me so much that it was only minutes later while I was running down the street as fast as I could that I managed to put it all together.

Lonnie was in the room sitting on Fletch's desk chair and Fletch was there too--on his knees between Lonnie's legs. He was almost naked, wearing just his pajama bottoms, but those were pulled down to his thighs... Lonnie saw me first. He just broke into a big grin and said, "I think we got company." Fletch lifed his head, turned to the door and froze in shock. I could hear Fletch calling my name urgently, but I didn't slow down. As I was running down the stairs and into the street the images began to sort themselves out. The details began to come together -- when Fletch had lifted his head and turned around to look at me, Lonnie's hard _c_o_c_k_ had slipped out of his mouth! And Fletch's hand had been down at his own crotch. I had seen it down there, h is fist clutched around his own erect _c_o_c_k_! My head was reeling and my stomach felt weak. I ran and ran and ran.... I ended up at the edge of town on the road into the woods and finally slowed down and began to walk. My chest was heaving, in part from the running and in part it was as if I was sobbing...there were no tears, but in every other way it was as if I were bawling my eyes out, and I couldn't get it to stop. My chest just kept on heaving. I wasn't sure that I had really seen what I had seen. I walked along the road for probably an hour before Fletch pulled up next to me in his mom's car. He called out my name several times, but once I had seen it was him, I refused to look up. I jammed my hands down deep into my pockets and walked ferociousl y forward, not slowing down and not acknowledging his presence. He begged me to stop and to get in. I didn't respond. But I didn't run off into the woods either. Finally he pulled up ahead of me a little bit and opened the door and lept out, standing so that he and the open car door were blocking my path. I rammed into him angrily, but he threw his arms around me and held me tight. I twisted and turned trying to get away, but I kept my hands shoved deep into my pockets. Finally I stopped struggling and he just held me tight. My body kept on shaking as if I were crying. At one point I struggled again to get away from him, but he threw me up against the side of the car, grabbed the hair on the back my head, pulled my face up toward his and kissed m e square on the lips...a long kiss. I was stunned. And my breathing began to slow. "Get in," he ordered and I obeyed. Cars in the '50's had big roomy front seats so I climbed in the open driver's side and slid over to the passenger's side. I slid all the way over the window and sat scrunched up, pulled as far as I could from Fletch and stared trance-like out the window. We began to drive, but I was completely unaware of where we were going. Finally, Fletch pulled off the dirt road and drove a short ways into the woods and suddenly stopped the car.

He looked at me, but I continued to stare out the window in total silence. I felt totally numb. Without saying anything he got out, went round to the back of the car and got something out of the trunk. When he came round to my side of the car and opene d my door, I had to pull away from the door so as not to fall out. He reached in, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out. Reluctantly, without saying anything or even looking at him, I let him extract me from the car. He shut the door behind me. Since I r efused to at him directly, I could see only that he was carrying an indian blanket over one arm. I stopped and looked away, so caught up in the storm of emotions that had swamped me that I was unable to react to anything, but there was a growing sense th at something was indeed about to happen.

I heard Fletch call my name softly once and after a moment of silence he said my name again. Finally he took my hand and turned me toward him again. I could see that he had spread the blanket over the right side of the hood of the car; it hung down over the passenger side tire. He pressed something thin into my hand and moved close to me. I didn't move away, but I turned my face from him. I heard a soft rustle and I when I did turn toward him again he was unbuttoning his shirt. My heart started poun ding so hard that I felt short like I was going to faint. In a moment he pulled off he shirt and let it slide to the ground. The nearness of his bare chest, his shoulders, his nipples, his armpits with their tufts of light brown almost blond hair all kn ocked the breath out of me completely. Suddenly I can remember hearing the noises of the woods -- birds and the breeze rustling in the leaves. But it all went silent when Fletch's hands reached down to his waist and began to undo first his belt, then th e button, and then to unzip his fly. He froze with his hands at his hips, thumbs tucked into the waistband of his pants and looked at me again. He whispered my name. And then he pulled down his pants and stood there in his white cotton briefs.

I stared. He was hard and his underpants jutted out in front. Then he turned around and faced the car. His hands reached back and very slowly pulled down his underpants revealing his bare ass, then he pushed them down still further till they too slid d own to his ankles. He leaned over the side of the car and out over the hood, his arms folded in front of him and his face buried from sight. He was so beautiful stretched out in that position with the breadth of his shoulders cutting down in a clear V t o his narrow waist -- the softnesss of his skin, the sharp tan lines at his waist and his thighs! Soon my eyes were staring directly and only at his ass -- the sharp cleft between his cheeks, the curves, the indentations on the sides... Now I was hard a s a rock. I just stood there staring at him, heart pounding, having trouble breathing...

He shifted his weight slightly and his asscheeks clenched and unclenched. Somehow that little movementthat woke me from my stupor and I became aware of holding what Fletch had handed me. At first I looked at it uncomprehendingly. A switch. I studied i t a moment. This was a switch that would sting like the devil! It was a finger's width thick at the handle but tapered at the other end, carefully smoothed and even polished. I instinctively snapped it through the air. It made a loud "Whiissss!" It w as sturdy, but murderously supple and whippy. At the sound of the switch, Fletch let out a low moan, but when the expected blow did not materialize, he fell silent. Finally, he looked back over his shoulders at me with big, pleading eyes, lowered his he ad once again, adjusted his feet so they were further apart and thrust his ass out even further.

I can't tell at exactly which moment I allowed myself to comprehend and at what moment I decided to do it. But I do know that at first, I did not feel any anger or any real emotion -- I was simply going to do it, that was all.

I did not strike immediately, but reached out and drew the switch across Fletch's beautiful bare ass. His muscles flexed at the touch of the switch but he did not make a sound. The sight of his ass and thigh muscles reacting to the light caress of the s witch caused my stomach to tighten into a knot. Then suddenly I pulled the switch back behind me and let go with a vicious stroke! Wisshhhhhhk! The force of the blow sent Fletch forward onto the hood of car and although he managed to stay silent I saw his mouth fly open as if to cry out. He turned his head slowly from side to side, eyes tightly closed, but said nothing. Within seconds the angry red stripe appeared across his smooth white skin.

Somehow the sight of that red line across the soft skin of his bare bottom set my blood to boiling! I was panting with exhiliration. My anger began to return and I started breathing in deep lungfuls. I let loose with a second stroke that caught Fletch just below the first, right at the line where his cheeks met the tops of his thighs. Fletch's clenched fists pounded down on the hood of the car but he didn't utter a sound. Anger flooded through me and I grew determined that I would make him holler. I gave him three more strokes with all my might one right after the other -- but he seemed equally as determined to remain silent. I roared into the silence and began to deliver a wild flurry of strokes across his bare backside:

Whissk! Whissk! Whissk! Whissk! WHISSK! WHISSSK!

I struck again and again. He twisted from side to side, his cheeks clenched and unclenched, his head rose up to that his face was turned up to the sky, but still he was silent. I laid stripes across his ass and down his thighs. I sought out the areas w hich seemed to be the most sensitive, seemed to produce the most reaction. WHISSSSK! WHISSSSSK! WHISSSK!

Finally, he cried out in a deep rooted sob that echoed through the woods! AaaaaAAAAAHHHHHH!

And my anger vanished. I dropped the switch. And I stood waiting in silence staring at the red lines criss-crossing Fletch's ass and thighs.

Fletch's whole body was shaking. It seemed like forever before he began to push himself up from the hood of the car. Then he turned toward me. He stood looking down at the ground, hands at his side, and somehow looking so childlike and alone that I simp ly had to step forward and put my arms around him. He eagerly fell into my embrace and placed his head on my neck. He moaned gratefully when I squeezed him tightly in my arms. We were about the same height and probably about the same weight, though I r emember Fletch as having the more developed chest of the two of us, but I suddenly felt all the power cruising through my body. I had whipped him and now I was holding him while he silently begged my forgiveness. I kissed him on the cheek. My hands ran up and down his back and finally, very tentatively, began to explore his bottom. The red stripes stood up in thin welts that I could feel with my fingertips. He moaned and clutched me tighter. We stood like that for several moments.

Then suddenly Fletch broke free and fell to his knees. He fumbled with my belt and pants and soon he had freed my erect _c_o_c_k_ and took it in his mouth. I could hardly keep my balance it felt so GOOD!! He did such wonderful things with his mouth and his tongue, while at the same time his hands ran up and down my thighs and even explored my ass. I swayed back and forth and _d_a_m_n_ed near fainted from the pleasure! But then suddenly it all stopped. Fletch was standing again and had grabbed my hand. He tur ned back toward the car and bent over.

He reached blindly behind him for my _c_o_c_k_ and, when he found it, pulled me by it closer to him and pulled my _c_o_c_k_ directly up against his ass. I had heard guys joke about cornholing and I knew that this was what Fletch was asking for, but I really didn't know how to set about it. I tried a tentative thrust in the right direction but without much success. So Fletch reached back and grabbed hold of me, positioned himself by spreading his legs further and pushed back a little. I pushed forward -- HARD! I t must have hurt like hell (especially since I later found out this was Fletch's first time, too), but he just out a deep grunt. Soon I was totally lost to the sensations of sliding in and out of Fletch's ass.

But something pulled me out of that sea of pleasure. I grabbed Fletch's hips and suddenly began _f_u_c_k_ing him deep and hard. He moaned aloud. I don't know how the idea came to me, but I stopped abruptly and pulled out. Fletch cried out -- though whether in relief or disappointment I cannot say. I bent down and picked up the switch again and ran it lightly across Fletch's ass. He was suprised but moaned appreciatively. When I let the first stroke land he cried out. Now I was in charge!! At every st roke he cried out, and after six, I thrust myself back inside him to even more vocal approval from the target of my efforts! After a few moments I jerked out of him again, but this time I began to spank him with hot, heavy open-handed smacks. Smack! Sm ack! Smack! Smack! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!!! And then I thrust back into to him to his appreciative groans. The next time I pulled out, I reached down and slipped the leather belt out of my pants and stood up. Fletch had lifted his head to look back and s ee what I was doing--his eyes widened when he saw belt in my hands. I used the belt like a strap and gave him a good dozen licks as hard as I could: whack! whack! whack! whack! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!

Back and forth I went, _f_u_c_k_ing him and then spanking him with my hand or whipping his bottom with the belt or switch! At every stroke he whined more and more like a boy about to burst into tears but somewhere in that sound was an intense pleasure. When I finally came deep inside him, he collapsed sobbing, having cum all over the indian blanket.

When he tried to pull up his pants afterward, I told him forcefully no, and grabbed the indian blanket and tossed it onto the ground. He reacted more and more submissively to every order I gave him -- and my orders began to come out more and more forcefu lly! I pulled him down onto the blanket and began kissing him and clutching at him wildly. After a while I flipped him onto his stomach again and gave him a hot spanking that left his whole ass a deep red! He lay there a took every single fiery smack! I pulled his face to my crotch and he set to work -- only this time, I actually came in his mouth.

Finally, when we were exhausted and beginning to get chilled in the open air, I gave him two last strokes with the switch. When he stood up he had a big wide grin on his face. He pulled up his pants and stepped over to me and kissed me again. I asked h im what he was smiling about and he said, "'Cause I knew you could do it!" My eyebrows shot up with incomprehension, but his eyes drifted down to the switch which I still clutched in my fist.

"Why you little....!!" I shouted! I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and spun him around toward the car again. "Take down your pants, boy!"

"No, wait a minute, I was just...." he protested.


Still smiling, he undid his pants and bent back over the car.....

And that's how two boys in a small southern town learned that they were top and bottom and learned how to put the two together into something beautiful. Lonnie never got another chance to enjoy the sweetness of Fletch's mouth, and I have been enjoying the sweetness of Fletch's beautiful bottom for almost 22 years now!