Every year when I was growing up, my dad and I would go fishing in Minnesota. We rented a small one-room cabin on the shore of the lake we fished in and stayed for a few days.
When I was fourteen, my sister got married in the spring, so dad asked my new brother-in-law, Jamey, if he'd like to go with us. I thought that was a great idea, because I really liked Jamey. He was a lot of fun, and he was only 21, anyway. So we packed up our gear and planned to leave the next morning. But the night before we left, I got into a serious argument with my mom, and I did something I had never done before or since. I actually made a fist at her. Her face turned white, with anger, not fear, and she said that my father would be hearing about this. I knew he would, and I knew what it would mean. No fishing trip for me.
But dad surprised me. He said nothing. We got into the car the next morning and headed for Minnesota, an all-day drive, and I thought mom had either forgotten to tell him or had decided not to tell him until we got back from the fishing trip. We had a great ride north, and spent our first evening just moving into the cabin and relaxing. The next morning, bright and early, we hit the lake. Before the long day was over, we had caught several pike, muskellunge and walleye.
When we took our showers, I found out that Jamey was about as modest as me. I always took my clothes into the bathroom with me, and by the time I emerged, I was dressed. He did the same thing. My dad wasn't so modest as all that, but it years of fishing with him, I'd never seen him in his underwear but once or twice. I tell you this so you'll appreciate what happened after dinner.
We were sitting in the cabin. I was watching a videotape we'd brought, Jamey was sitting at the little kitchen table, and my dad had pulled one of those chairs off the to the side and was sitting there, facing Jamey, talking to him. When the conversation lagged, dad turned his attention to me. "Dennis," he asked, "is it true you made a fist at your mother on Sunday evening?"
I swallowed hard. "Yessir," I said. "I told her I was sorry. I didn't mean it. I really am sorry."
"I'm sure you are," he said in reply. "But sorry isn't good enough." And with that, he stood up, unbuckled his belt, and pulled it through the loops of his jeans. It was a wide leather belt, one I had made acquaintance with three or four times a year for as long as I could remember.
"You want me to leave?" Jamey asked, swallowing nervously, but, I could see, with a slight grin.
"No, I don't think so," dad said. "I think it will do Dennis some good to be as ashamed of himself as his mother was ashamed of him Sunday night. As ashamed of him as I am, too. Come over here, boy."
I got up quickly and headed for dad. I was not prepared for what happened next.
"Hold your arms up," he said, I did, and he pulled my t-shirt up and over my head. At first, I thought he was going to whip my back - I had read of men being whipped like that - but then, after tossing the t-shirt aside, he reached forward and began to unbuckle my belt! "Dad," I said, "Jamey's here!"
"I see him, Dennis," dad said. He didn't stop with the belt, and by now, my jeans were unsnapped and being unzipped. Now I had been spanking on the bare ass before, though dad reserved those only for really bad offenses. This was a bad offense, but I had never been spanked bare ass in front of someone. Never!
He slid my jeans down to my ankles, and then reached down, told me to lift my foot, an pulled my shoe, sock and pantleg off. Then he repeated the process.
Jamey swallowed again, loud enough I could hear him. And when I looked up at him, there was an eager look on his face that let me know he was really into seeing me spanked on the naked butt. In fact, he asked, "You strippin' him all the way, dad?"
"Bare as the day I first saw him," dad said, and hooked his fingers in my Fruit of the Looms and pulled them off.
I was developed about like any 14 year old. My _d_i_c_k_ was OK for a 14 year old, but I was embarrassed about anyone seeing it, more now that it was hairy than I would have been when it was bald and little.
Dad bent me over his knee, and then wedged one of his knees between my legs, scrunching my genitals against his knee, and spreading my legs. Jamey actually got up and walked around to the other side of me, to see my ass. And I know that because of the spreading of my legs, he could see my butthole, too.
There are no words to describe the pain of the belt on my bare ass. Dad was mad, and he covered every spot of it three or four times. I was crying by the tenth lick, kicking and squirming all over, but dad was relentless. All he ever did was grab me once by the back of the head and say, "Hold still and stick your butt up!" I tried, but I couldn't hold still long.
After about forty licks with the belt, he stopped. The lecture began. While being lectured, I had to lay over his lap, and his hands rested on my ass. I promised to never raise my hand to my mom again or even act like I wanted to. I kept that promise, too!
After the spanking was over, I was sent to stand in the corner, bare butt out, for an hour. Once, during that hour, Dad went out to the lake. Jamey talked to me then, and he said, "He sure whaled your little ass, Dennis. I thought it was kinda cool. Maybe I'll get to spank you someday!" Real sympathetic, huh? And, by the way, he did.