The following story is grounded in real life experiences, both general and particular; nonetheless, the story is fictional. It may, depending upon your outlook, contain scenes of non-consenting corporal punishment between men above the legal age of consent. If you don't like this sort of story, please don't read any further. If you do like this sort of story, lean back ... and I hope that you will enjoy my efforts.

My Roommate Jeff

byR. Galen Greyson <>

This occurred rather a number of years ago, when I was a student rooming South of Market with a bunch of other gay guys. It was a crazy house, with various inmates, boyfriends, long-time guests and occasional rescues. I was essentially in charge, having been there since the start, and being the only one who could successfully write cheques in some semblance of a timely fashion.

Jeff moved into the small room across the hall from my room. He only paid $200 a month, but that little help at rent-time made a big difference. With Jeff, there were four of us, two students, one guy with a job, and Jeff, a sometimes man of opportunity in the _s_e_x_ual zone, if you know what I mean. His trade brought him into contact with other human beings, but that was more or less the only time he would venture out of his little room. When first he moved in, he told me that he liked to be left alone, and that was the way it worked out.

That would have been fine with me, except that he felt being alone allowed him the right to be rude whenever our paths did, in fact, cross. The tension quickly escalated, and I rapidly got to the point where I dreaded those occasional meetings. Even so, it was a minor problem, like a little burr rather than a cut.

Things went along this way for a number of months. One of the others moved out, but Jeff preferred to keep his little room. We made the extra room into a living room, and Jeff began to make a practice of watching the TV there. Jeff was a real stoner, so he'd smoke a few bowls and zone out watching Star Trek re-runs. But, as soon as I would arrive home, he'd make a beeline for his little room, and continue the viewing on his much smaller, B&W screen. It used to drive me crazy.

In the end, it was the new living room that turned out to be his undoing. One weekend, our other roommate was out of town. I arrived home after midnight to find Jeff dozing in front of the living room TV. I just had this sudden rush to try to befriend him in some way. I asked, "How'd you like a toke?"

To my amazement, he replied, "O, that's okay. I don't need one." This was strange not only because the man had never turned down a toke in his life, but also because he did not immediately jump up and leave. I was intrigued. He bugged the hell out of me, but he was also really hot ... a slender guy, about 5'10", smooth skin, a narrow face with these big, brown eyes that glistened as they glared at you. He also had this slender but global butt that draped to perfection any pants he chose to wear.

So, I was intrigued, and I pressed a little. We got talking; he didn't seem to want to talk, but he seemed not to be able to leave. I remember we talked about a hurricane in Florida ... I knew he was from Florida ... I said, "Seems like hurricanes always head for trailer parks."

"Yeah, I know," he said, "I grew up in one."

"Stay in the same one, or did you move around a lot?" I asked. "No, we moved around ... my mom mostly caching up with my Dad. He was a bastard ..."

And I suddenly knew why the guy was so reclusive ... he was trailer trash, always afraid of a beating from Dad or being cussed out by Mom. So, he learned to come and go quietly, to be present without anyone knowing. He learned to be sneaky as a matter of survival.

He was being sneaky with me when we talked that night. I asked him a second time, "C'mon, I'm sure you want a toke. Don't be shy."

"Naw, that alright, I'm fine," he answered. I think I asked him again before I finally decided to go myself and get the pipe. I went to my room, and found my stash was empty!! I had noticed occasional "deficits" in the past, but I laid the blame for that with the other roommate ... and that was cool because we shared a lot of things. But here was my last bud gone, and the only other person in the house was Jeff!

I went back to the living room; he'd left. I went to his room, knocked, no answer, so I went in ... he wasn't there. I finally found him in the laundry room, in the dark, smoking a cigarette.

"You stole my pot, man!" I stated as I turned on the light.

"Oh, yeah, I thought I'd get some more tonight, and I was gonna replace it, and you wouldn't even have known. But the guy didn't come through. It's no biggie."

"You stole my pot, man!" I thought a minute. "You stole the last pot of a roommate who you know is into spanking."

"Hey man, I'll pay you back ... it's no biggie. Don't get all bull_s_h_i_t_ty with me."

"Yeah, you'll pay me back, but I got some interest coming too, and you know it. You're the one with the bull_s_h_i_t_ this time ... "

He smirked and said this, I kid you not, "I'll give you a blow job, man, but you ain't gonna spank me."

"No, I think it's a spanking; you've been a rude li'l _c_o_c_k_sucker since the day you arrived. You _s_h_i_t_ all over me, and run and hide whenever I get home. Then, one night, just one night, you're nice to me ... why? ... because you don't want me to go check my stash cause you ripped me off. No way, man, your ass is grass."

I grabbed his ear, lifted him off the dryer, and led him back to my bedroom. He didn't resist physically, but that didn't prevent him from letting out a few curses, like ...

"_f_u_c_k_ this bull_s_h_i_t_, man, get yer _f_u_c_k_in paws off me ..."

We arrived in my room, and I closed the door.

"Look, buster," I said, "When you moved in here, you told me that you wanted to be left alone. I told you that was fine as long as you left me alone. I've held up my part of the bargain, but you've been a surly little _s_h_i_t_ ... and now you've been stealing from me. Answer me, buster, who's the one full of bs?"

He paused, then looked up at me, smirked again and said, "Me, I guess ... yeah, me."

"You gonna pay me back?

"Yeah, okay ..."

"Including interest ... and you know what I mean ..."

"Yeah, including interest."

"Okay, so you look me right in the eyes, and tell me right now that you'll take a bare butt spanking for ripping me off."

He paused, then, "Okay, man, I'll take yer spanking cause I stole your pot without asking."

I put him at the end of the bed, and said, "I want you to strip off your pants, real slow, and while you're doing it, I want you to repeat, 'I'm getting a spanking for stealing'. Turn around, butt to me, and get started. I ain't got all night"

Actually I did have all night, and I intended to take a goodly part of it. He turned around, kind of jerking his head up and down with a big sneer on his lips. He bent over to take off his shoes, and stuck his ass straight at me. What mounds. I'd caught glimpses of it, always in baggy pants, but this was the first time he'd stuck it out in my direction. His shoes off, he unbuttoned his Levi's in a single pull, and just let them fall down until they caught on his ass; then he started to pull on them, wiggling a little to help them down.

"What you gotta say, boy."

"Okay, man, I'm gonna get spanked cause I stole from you. Okay ... you got a hard-on now, asshole."

You can always tell a real brat because he spits at you when his luck has run out. I did have a hard on, and it nearly busted with that last line.

He wiggled a little more and then stepped out of his pants. His underwear was white, Jockey shorts, real old and thin and loose, draped over his ass and hanging low.

"Get the shorts off."

He swung around quick, and said, "Piss off," but then he dropped them.

"Bend over, son; grab your ankles ... reach your hands up and pull your cheeks apart. I wanna look at an asshole's asshole."

That's just what he did. I could see the silly grin on his face through his legs, just below his hanging balls. Nothing turns me on more than the sight of a guy's balls dangling right before he gets his ass blistered.I watched for a while, pulled on myy _d_i_c_k_ a bit, then got up of the bed, and went over to him. I felt his ass; I ran my hand in his crack. I cupped his balls.

"Now, you got yourself into this, and there's two ways we can go. You can be a big asshole, or you can just fold and let me give you what I know you want. It's up to you."

No hesitation, "Quick blabbing and get your jollies; I wanna go out."

I threw him onto the bed. I pushed him back down as he tried to bounce back up. I took my time positioning the pillows at the head of the bed, then I sat down, and pulled him across my right leg, facing right, so that I could pin him with my left leg as I slapped him with my left hand. His butt was mine.

"I've been waiting for this, Jeff ..." I smacked him sharply across the crack of his ass. He jumped a little, and let out a "Piss!". I smacked him again, and then again. I could see him smirking hard. I think he thought he's said enough with that first "Piss!" I started smacking his left cheek, fast, breezy, rhythmical, and scissored him tight ... because now it was starting to hurt a little, and the bravado thing, the contempt would soon be no shield.

I switched to his right cheek, and smacked free and fast. He started to try to pull away.

"That's startin to hurt, man. Ain't that about enough."

"You've heard me spank guys, Jeff. You know you got a lot more coming. Now face down, and take it."

I started to smack him hard, more slowly. One, two, three smack, and smack, and smack, and one, two, three, smack, smack, smack, smack. His butt started to press back, and I could see him biting his lip.

"You be a tough guy, buster, and take what you earned. Tell me you won't steal my pot again."

I kept smacking his ass, square across the middle, it all red now in a big circle with white above and around and still, alluringly, below. I kept slappin him, while he bit his lip, and let his ass start quivering. Smackin, smackin, you take it boy.

He said, "Okay, man, I'm sorry about stealin your pot. I won't do it again."

"What's this "man" _s_h_i_t_. Why don't you call me "Dad"?"

"I ain't calling YOU Dad, so forget it."

"Let's see how long you hold out ... son."

"I ain't callin you Dad, no way."

So I just picked up the pace. I was slappin him, watching it burn, listening closely to his held breathing, the snorts and grunts, and feelin in my scissored legs his pulls and twists to get out of the way of my hand. It was a while, but I wasn't stopping, until he finally blurted it out.

"Awright, awright, I'm sorry, DAAAD."

I slapped him say ten more times, and then stopped.

"Time for a break, son. You said something about a blow job."

"Aw, Christ, isn't this enough."

"No it's not. I'll tell you what's enough: you can get up ... when I say so ... go to the dresser, pull out the top right drawer, pick up my hairbrush, and bring it back over here. Then you lean back over my knee ... same position as now ... and I'm going take the hairbrush to your sweet ass while I blow my load. That'll be enough ... well, and you can give me a blow job after we're done, since you've offered and all. Now GO!"

He did it. He got up off my knee, crawled across the bed, and hopped onto one leg, pulled out the drawer, with his other leg still on the bed, his ass in my direction. He pulled out the brush, and asked, "This one?" all innocent and everything.


He crawled back across the bed, and was just about to fall across my lap, when I held him back.

"Look into my eyes and tell me you're want to be punished for what you did, while I just pull out my _d_i_c_k_ here."

"Yes, Dad, I want to be punished." One thing with Jeff was that the whore in him could act once he knew he was had. I didn't even need to say it ... he was willing to play with me. He'd met a match.

I did pull out my _d_i_c_k_, then I forced him down, snapped my locking leg into position. I picked up the brush with my left hand, and my _d_i_c_k_ with my right.

"You tell me you're sorry while you take your lickin. And stick your ass up there, so I can hairbrush your under parts ... that's where a bad boy takes his punishment. Tell me you're sorry now."

I slapped his ass with the brush, and he started straight out.

"I'm sorry, Dad ... Dad, I'm sorry Dad ... Dad, come one, I'm sorry Dad ... Dad, I'm sorry, I'm sorry Dad... Daaaad, I'm sorry Dad... Dad, I'm sorry, ow, ow, ow, Dad, I'm sorry Daaaad, I'm sorry Dad... Dad, I'm sorry, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, Dad... Dad, Dad, ow, Dad, I'm sorry Dad Daaaad, I'm sorry Dad... Dad, I'm sorry Dad... ow, ow, ow, Dad, I'm sorry Dad ow, ow, ow ..."

There I blew it, as his "ow's" crescendoed, and fell back, dropped the brush, rubbed his ass back and forth across the bother, the bright sting now oblong reaching under his butt to redden the white part where he might otherwise sit down.

"You needed that Jeff."

"Yeah, I did, I guess I did."

I smacked the back of his head.

"Maybe you'll get more of that in the future," I said to him as I cleaned off my _d_i_c_k_.

"If you find the time ... " he smirked.

"Now you've got one more duty to perform before your debt to society is paid off ... " and I pulled his head into my crotch.

"This'll take a while, but I'm gonna enjoy it ... while I'm lookin at that red ass of yours ... so stick it up while you work ... "