A Boy Comes Home - Part I


by Cal <Cal22722z@yahoo.com>

Again with apologies that my prior e-mail account went dead and thus kindly note the new one: cal22722z@yahoo. com. I did not mean to cut any of you off who were talking seriously but yahoo is uncontrollable these days. Cal

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Let me tell you, though, it was one heck of a nervous, but good-looking, tall young man who finally came out of the Immigrations and Customs door of the arrival hall that morning. Nicely thin-looking with uncommonly white skin at least for this part of the world, and with short hair befitting the proper look for an extremely cute young man coming to stay, he emerged from that security area tugging along a bag in which he had all his worldly possessions for at least the long duration of his stay. How much did he really need to stay here after all? He stood there looking almost freaked, a bit ruffled, and somewhat jet lagged and not really completely sure as to who he was looking for as he scanned around the crowd of others there to meet their own loved ones. While I sized him up from the back of the crowd (and saw him as more than worthy!), he could not possibly have noticed my looking him over slowly . . . from head to toe, up and down. I looked him over carefully and watched him, but I let him stand there until his eyes soon started darting beautifully all over the arrival hall but completely unsure as to exactly what his pick up looked like or would be wearing. Actually, he looked identically like what he told me he was and his photos showed: a good-looking and deserving young man who was long overdue for a nice long spanking and some even longer training in the fine arts of obedience! He certainly looked like a good candidate for both. Too bad he had not realized his needs and come earlier.

As for me, well, I am clearly taller then he is (and most) and was just standing in the back of the crowd in my all too typical dark suit, white shirt and a bright silk tie, regardless of the season and the TV fashion gurus counsel. I waited until his nervousness seemed to be growing but then that I went up in front of him, shook his hand warmly, and watched a very broad smile slowly flow across his sensitive young lips until it filled his boyish face. His eyes broaden like a small boy seeing his first Christmas tree. Actually, he was looking in the eyes of the man he knew would be spanking him and over whose knees he knew he would be sobbing, crying, and trying every excuse in the book. The purpose of his coming was clear. But parting with the formalities regardless of our cultures and political correctness in this currently fanatically conservative town, I reached out and hugged him in my arms in front of anyone who cared to be looking. To hell with the others. I clasped him warmly on his back before also patting him on the seat of his trousers. Yes, he jerked, pulled his face back and smiled more than just broadly this time and then he warmly hugged me back. He was fine. He was going to be a good boy. His grip was tight and he was obviously a very nice kid for sure. As for me, I was just happy to have him here to join the family finally and he seemed almost relieved that I was on time as I had assured him I would be. Yes, the boy was a joy to hold, an even greater joy to pat, and a cute young man who was in for some good, old-fashioned domestic discipline and training. Bluntly put, this young man was going to get the living hell spanked out of his tight, young fanny for all those time he fell short on his curfew or messed up on those small things I had told him to do as well as also for all those older men he had teased and led on over the years. It was time for one young man to pay the piper!

Although clearly shy and reserved and even a bit red in front of the crowd gathered there to meet their own long-lost relatives, friends and returning loved ones, he began talking and telling me how glad he was to be here as well as the inevitable stories of the no-longer-pleasures of current air travel under heavy security. Never mind, I clasped him around the shoulder again anyway, took one of his bags, and guided him firmly over toward the door that led through the long maze that ultimately would end both of us in what is commonly mistakenly referred to as a "modern" car park or airport parking lot! Now he talked. In fact he never stopped talking. A nervous reaction? I wondered? What must it feel like at that moment to be walked to the car of the man you know is going to spank you?

Truthfully, I cannot say I was really listening to all he was saying as while we were still in that greeting crowd my right hand had dropped down and patted the seat of his jeans propelling him more promptly toward the exit. He had turned momentarily scarlet when he felt my hand caress the seat of his pants, but he simply walked quickly with my being slightly behind him. He said nothing. He already knew better. No one could possibly have noticed, although he did not know that; but that pat was just long enough with my hand lingering to convince me that this young tall boy did indeed have a nice set of buns hidden within inside his slacks and that those buns were going to be well worth taking my time to bare them slowly and then ease him (and them) down over my knees for some long neglected attention. Boys always learn best that way. This one certainly would! And he would be getting spanked regularly.

Once we had all his things in the trunk of the car which he insisted on calling the "boot," we both climbed inside and shut the doors. It was quiet and still inside. It was our first change to be completely private. He looked over at me with those very boyish eyes and charms and smiled. "Thank you for picking me up," he said.

But I just looked at him. "Are you positive youre ready for this lifestyle, son?"

He squirmed noticeably in the front seat of my car and even seemed to turn a bit red. He took his time as he was staring down and then up, but then finally he looked over at me and slipped his hand on mine, "Yes, Dad. Im ready and Im yours." He spoke so softly but his shyness was reappearing as he looked down again at his lap even though his hand was still in mine. It was as if he was waiting, waiting for his dad to drive him finally home. I studied his face. He is not "mine" yet, I thought to myself; but he certainly soon will be. I eased my hand out of his grip and looked at him intently. His own lap showed a rather noticeable bulge beginning in his slacks. I reached over and gently put my hand on that bulge. Yes, I was surprised! This young man was hard as a rock there in the airport car park. I smiled and tussled his head. No, he was not mine yet, but he certainly soon would be! His eagerness surprised me, and I think it surprised him and embarrassed him as well, but it is natural in a young man his age. Certainly his face was very red now but that only had the effect of making him cuter and more appealing. He seemed nervous, yet completely calm. Regardless, he looked very good to me.

All I could do was the gentlemanly thing and smile warmly back at him as I turned the key in the ignition, the motor began to hum as the blue dash lights came on inside that closed garage and I began backing out. I turned on some soft music on the radio which seemed to help him. It was time to take a certain young man home, but it was not until we were well down the road before that bulge in his pants disappeared completely and he was, once again, talking away about his trip, his plans, his job, and everything under the sun. He seemed excited about it all too. He was speaking freely now. Freely, that is about everything except the lifestyle he was now entering. He knew on that regard that he had nothing to say. I would make those decisions for him.

I drove down the freeway carefully while I listened to him talking. I drove neither recklessly quickly, nor overly slowly and cautiously. After all, the boys chit chat did not mask the fact for a moment that this young man needed a good smacking on his soon to be bare bottom. And he needed it soon. Darkness from the season soon completely engulfed the car completely as we drove together down that freeway. There were certainly not many cars on the rather deserted portion of the highway now. Trees were everywhere and empty rest stops with picnic tables that were usually filled with families on an outing were frequent. I knew something he did not know. It would be easy to pull into one, pull his pants down, and give my young charge his first taste of dads medicine.

There was, in fact, an especially wooded rest stop that sat a bit more back from the road just about 10 miles down the road, I already knew that. Paolo had been spanked there once and quite effectively.

But Tiger talked on. I half listened as I was thinking about how I would now begin this boy's training? He definitely was going to get a spanking. He and I both knew he needed that. More importantly, it was going to be his first of many. . ..

To be continued . . . soon.


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