My neighbour's son, Sam, who is a somewhat immature sixteen year old redhead, recently broke a window in my home with his football, for the second time. His father, Dave, invited me in that evening, to witness Sam's demise.
Sam was quite a short kid for his age, in fact all in all he looked closer to 14 than 16. He was standing in the corner in Dave's front room, dressed in light blue bum-hugging jeans, white socks and sneakers and a red T-shirt.
Dave motioned me to an armchair and I sat down.
"Now come here and apologise to Jeff," Dave said.
Looking scared, Sam turned and came over and said, very meekly, "I'm sorry Jeff."
"Now Sam," Dave said, "Turn round, exactly where you are standing."
Sam turned his back to me.
"And bend forward, hands on knees, bum stuck back. Let Jeff see the bum that's going to be spanked."
Sam obviously knew better than to argue. He bent forward and stuck his bum backwards.
"Move right back, astride Jeff's legs, so he can get a close up of the target area."
Sam shuffled back. Dave settled on the wide arm of my chair. "As you can see, Jeff," he said, settling his hand on the taut seat of Sam's jeans, "Sam has a nicely made little butt, just right for a good spanking. He gets embarrassed when I rub it like this, which is why I'm doing it. You have a good feel too."
So we both fingered and pressed and squeezed both bum cheeks, along the line of his crack and even some way between the backs of his thighs.
"Right," said Dave eventually, "Turn round and let Jeff take off your sneakers."
Sam turned, his face now reddening with embarrassment, and put each foot in turn between my legs on the seat cushion, where I unlaced then pulled off his shoes.
"Now come and lie on the dining table."
Their front room had a dining alcove. Sam lay on the table on his back and we stood on each side of him.
"Hands back," Dave ordered.
Again, seemingly knowing the routine, the red-faced Sam put his hands straight back behind him.
"Take off his T-shirt for him," Dave said.
I pulled off his T-shirt.
"As you can see," Dave said, "stroking Sam's chest and upper abdomen, "My boy's quite muscular. Have a feel round."
I had a good stroke and feel.
"And it's not just in his arms and pectorals he has muscle," Dave said. "True to normal form, his dick's starting to harden." And with that, to my amazement, he grasped hold of the bulge in Sam's flies and gave it a squeeze, causing Sam to gasp and writhe. "Have a feel," Dave said.
I squeezed the growing tube. Sam now had his eyes closed tight, was bright red and beginning to sweat.
"Let's have these jeans off," Dave said, undoing Sam's belt, then his top snap, before unzipping him completely. "Take one side of his jeans and we'll drag them off."
Sam made no effort to resist and kept his eyes closed. Very soon he was in white Y-fronts and socks, his underpants tented upward, with a damp patch at his dick head. "Randy little bastard," Dave said, patting Sam's dick over his Y-fronts. "Just like his dad." Dave squeezed his own very obvious erection.
"Off the table," Dave ordered, "And stand on the stool."
There was a wooden stool. Sam stood on it. It brought his dick closer to our eye level. "You can do the honours," Dave said, "Pull down his underpants."
I pulled them to his ankles. To my surprise, his dick and balls were completely hairless. "I shaved him before you came," Dave said, "and gave him an enema, as an extra punishment. Step out, Sam." He held the underpants as Sam stepped out of them and climbed down.
"Onto the table. Diaper."
Sam lay on his back on the table, then drew his knees right up to his chest, holding them there by the backs of his thighs.
Dave manoeuvred Sam until his spread arse cheeks were almost over the edge of the table, then he started to thwack his buttocks with a flat wooden spoon, which soon had Sam howling with pain.
Dave let Sam down and told me to sit on an upright armless chair. Then he had Sam lie over my lap and told me to start spanking. Sam was soon yelling again, his arse going bright red. I kept spanking...