Until Mrs. Roberts opened her son's bedroom door, Paul and Jerry thought they were alone in the house. It was with great shock and embarrassment that the two naked fourteen-year-old boys turned to look at her. Both blushed a deep red, and Jerry immediately pulled his hands away from Paul's genitals to cover his own. Likewise Paul quickly put his hands in front of his lower torso to hide his distended organ from his mother's view. As with all boys of this age, they felt that there was something undeniably private and secretive about their _s_e_x_ual organs and they were increasingly ashamed, as they grew older, at the thought of exposing them in front of grown-ups, even their own parents.
"What's going on in here?" Paul's mother demanded, looking straight at the telltale blotches of foamy liquid that were spattered on the floor. Neither youth answered. They were now too busy trying to reach for their underpants.
For some years Paul and Jerry had occasionally played a game together, a game they called "being a doctor." They first played it when they were only seven years old, following a checkup Paul Roberts had at the doctor's office. After he returned home, his parents went out for the afternoon and Jerry Andrews came over to keep him company. The two boys were bored with the game they were engaged in and Paul suggested that they play doctor instead.
Soon they were undressed, carefully examining each other, looking at the differences in their belly buttons, the similarity in their button-like nipples, and the differences in their flabby penises. Jerry's was circumcised, but Paul's was not. They ended the game before Paul's mother returned, sensing that what they were doing was something of which she probably would not approve.
But the game had been so fascinating to both boys that some months later, faced again with the absence of parents, they decided to disrobe and once again play doctor. They soon found that the moments of most fun came when they took turns fondling each other's private parts.
More than a year later, Jerry, who was developing physically somewhat faster than Paul, discovered that whenever he rubbed or pulled on his penis at night in bed, it became larger and quite stiff. He demonstrated this erection experience to Paul, and, from then on, the two boys competed, when playing the game, to see which one could make the other's penis become hard first and which one had the larger organ when it was sticking out like a flag pole.
Sometime between the age of twelve and thirteen they noticed major changes taking place in each other's naked bodies. Some stubble was growing under their armpits and nascent hair around the sacks that held their testicles. Paul, the dark haired one, even had some hair growing on his lower calves, but his thighs were still as smooth as a baby's bottom. And, although Jerry had some fuzz on his lower leg segments, this didn't show because he was a blond.
By now, at age fourteen, the sensation of touching one another's penises caused much more excitement. Paul was the first to ejaculate under Jerry's gentle pulling of his _s_e_x_ organ. The event came as a surprise to both of them, and proved extremely pleasant for Paul.
As a result, the boys increased the frequency in which they engaged in their doctor game. Each sought out times when their parents might be away from home so that he could invite the other one over. It was easier to get together at Jerry's house because Jerry was an only child, whereas Paul had a little brother, Philip, now eleven years old. Jerry genuinely disliked this eleven year old because he was always pestering them and butting into their affairs when they were at Paul's; and Paul hated him because Paul considered his brother to be a spoiled brat and a tattle-tale. He was often telling his parents about things Paul had done, and Paul was sometimes blamed for things Philip did because Paul was the oldest.
Because of Philip, Paul and Jerry also looked for locations other than their own homes where they might play their game without being seen by anyone. Both recognized that what they were doing was unacceptable to adults, and this gave them a sense of danger, and in this case, added delight. But now Paul's mother had caught them just after Paul's semen had spilled onto the floor and before they could wipe up the mess to remove the evidence.
"I'm shocked," Mrs. Roberts said. "This is totally unacceptable behavior, particularly at your age. Paul, you're going to be punished for this, and, Jerry, I'm going to telephone your parents and tell them what you two are doing."
Jerry, who was now hastily trying to pull on his underpants, blanched white. "Please don't do that, Mrs. Roberts," he pleaded. "My father will skin me alive."
"You should have thought of that before," the mother said. "If you were my son I would give you such a sound thrashing you would never forget it, and I would ground you for at least a month. That's what's going to happen to Paul. You better believe it."
"We weren't doing anything," Paul said weakly. "I just wanted to see what Mark looked like without any clothes on." It was a feeble excuse, and he knew it. After all, the liquid on the floor clearly convicted the two boys.
"Get some toilet paper and wipe up that mess," his mother said. "Its disgusting." Paul hurried out of the room to comply. He realized that he had better act quickly before he tried to dress himself again.
"Please don't call my parents," Jerry continued to plead. "I will do anything you want, but don't tell them. You can even punish me, if you like."
"I'm not your mother, Jerry," Mrs. Roberts pointed out the obvious. "Now take your underpants back off. I want your mother to see you that way when she comes to fetch you home. I'm going downstairs to telephone her."
In great despair Jerry removed the briefs he had just been able pull into place and put them on the bed next to his shirt and trousers. He stood there desperately trying to cover his _s_e_x_ organ with his hands so that Paul's mother wouldn't look at it. His stomach seemed to be doing cartwheels.
Paul, who had returned with the toilet paper, quickly applied it to the wet spots on the floor, throwing the soiled paper into his waste basket. "Don't you put your clothes on either," his mother said. "I want your father to see this when he gets home."
Paul shuddered as she left the room. His mother's spankings were bad enough, but his father's belt was murder. It was less than a year since his father had last landed strokes with that belt on his underpant-covered bottom. It happened because he had a failing grade in arithmetic.
The two boys stood there almost afraid to look at each other, clearly fearful of the fate that lay before them. Paul now wished he had been more careful to ascertain when his mother would be returning that day. Jerry just wanted to get out of that house, but he knew there was no escape. He knew that his mother would come for him as soon as she received the phone call from Mrs. Roberts, and then he would be taken home to face his angry father. Jerry hadn't been spanked since he was nine years old and, now that he was fourteen, he didn't think his parents should punish him in this way anymore. But he anticipated that the worst might happen to him after Mrs. Roberts reported the incident.
Jerry sat dejectedly on the bed; Paul was now occupying the only chair in the room. Because Mrs. Roberts had gone downstairs, Jerry was no longer trying to cover his _s_e_x_ organ, which had become small and flabby once more. It rested there on top of the place where his legs were crossed. He was trying to stop his body from shaking and, although he was sitting there in his birthday suit, he was not shaking from cold.
Paul's long legs stretched out from the chair where his buttocks were flattened against the seat, and Jerry could look straight up those legs to the V shape they made where they attached to his torso. At that place was the now-flabby and tiny penis that seemed to have retreated somewhat into his body so that his balls, surrounded as they had been for the best part of a year now by a thick bush of curly dark brown pubic hair, were the more prominent appendage. The view no longer excited Jerry as it had such a short time ago.
"Will your pop give you a whipping?" Jerry asked his friend.
"I don't know," Paul answered. "Mom's sure mad."
"Does he usually give you a spanking?" Jerry asked, trying to carry on a conversation so as to distract his thoughts from his own sense of impending doom.
"He did a few months ago," Paul answered softly, "and with his belt."
"Gee, I'll bet that hurt," Jerry said, grimacing to show he realized how painful such punishment might be. "Did you have your trousers on for protection?"
"No, only my underpants."
"Boy, that's rough. You're old man must be a tyrant."
"Not really," Paul said. "I probably deserved it. I got it after I failed arithmetic. You remember, I had to take the class over again during the summer. What about you?" he questioned, in the hope of changing the focus of the conversation from his own experiences to those of his friend.
"It's been several years since I've been spanked," Jerry answered. "Come to think of it, I don't even remember what I did to deserve it that time. My parents aren't much into spanking."
"I'll bet you get it this time," Paul said with some assurance, "and maybe with a belt." Jerry shuddered.
Only fifteen minutes before they had both been enjoying the freedom of being without the encumbrance of clothing, enjoying the process of looking at and touching one another. Now they were still nude, but the atmosphere had radically changed. They no longer wanted to see each other this way or to be seen in this undressed condition.
Mrs. Roberts, downstairs, picked up the phone in the kitchen and dialed the Andrews' number. She was soon telling Mrs. Andrews what she had caught the teen agers doing. The conversation didn't last very long.
She returned to her son's room where the two boys were now sitting, looking rather forlorn. "Your mother and father will be over soon," she told Jerry. "You are to wait here until they come to get you." The expression on Jerry's face changed to one of abject terror. Her statement underlined for him the anticipated punishment that would probably soon take place.
Mrs. Roberts then went back downstairs again, just in time to greet her husband who was returning from work. She told Paul's father about what she had found the two youth doing, and Mr. Roberts turned toward the stairway to go up to his son's bedroom and scold him. But the doorbell rang. It was Jerry Adrews' parents.
Mr. and Mrs. Roberts together went to open the door, and the two sets of parents were soon conversing in the living room about what they should do to correct the boys. Then, when they all agreed as to what procedure to follow, Mr. Roberts went to the upstairs bedroom to tell the two boys that the parents wanted to talk to them in the living room.
"Can we put on our clothes first," Paul asked his father.
"No, come just the way your are," his father answered sternly, as he turned to go back downstairs.
Paul and Jerry rose, each frantically trying to think of some way to escape this confrontation with their parents. With heads hanging, they slowly went downstairs. Both were trying to protect their privates as they approached the living room door. They wished they could cover their backsides as well, but had no more hands to place there. Without any clothes on they felt terribly naked, alone, and vulnerable.
"Gosh this is awful," Jerry whispered to Paul. His friend nodded.
As they opened the door, their minds were filled with confused feelings of fear, embarrassment, and abject humiliation. And then to add to their horror, there inside the living room were seated not only the four parents but also eleven-year-old Philip, whom Mr. Roberts had told to join them because he thought the boy might learn something of value by observing the punishment of his brother and brother's friend. Both Paul and Jerry winced at the sight of Philip because they knew that whatever scolding they might get there in the living room would soon become public knowledge around school. This little tattle-tale brat would see to that.
Timidly Paul and Jerry stood there waiting for one of the four seated parents to say something. The utter quietness of the room made their nerves dance with irregularity.
Mr. Roberts finally broke the silence. "You two have certainly acted in a way that is quite childish, and we all agree that you will have to be punished severely." Both Paul Roberts and Jerry Andrews shook a little at this statement, but decided it would be best not to respond.
"When I was a boy," Mr. Roberts continued, "my father caught me smoking my first cigarette. He made me smoke most of the pack, right then and there, and I got so sick I threw up. Then he gave me a severe whipping and took away my allowance for a week. That whipping taught me a lesson I will never forget. I didn't smoke again until I was more than twenty-one years of age."
Neither Paul nor Jerry could see exactly what this story had to do with their situation, but they continued to listen obediently. Mr. Roberts then said, "We parents have decided to teach you a lesson in the same way. Your mother, Paul, could see that you two had been masturbating in that bedroom. Isn't that right?"
Paul nodded a little sheepishly, but Jerry just stood there looking at the rug on the floor. He didn't want to look at the expressions on his parent's faces.
"Well, we've decided that you will do just that here in the living room, but under our supervision." The two youth looked at the other parents in disbelief. What in the world was Mr. Roberts thinking about? Did he really mean they should masturbate here in front of an audience? But the other three adults just looked at the two boys and said nothing, and Philip sat there not fully comprehending what his father was talking about.
"The first thing you need to do," Mr. Roberts continued, "is to put your silly hands on top of your heads. There's no reason for you to try to hide the organs you were pumping so happily upstairs in the bedroom."
At that statement both boys turned beet red with embarrassment, but they knew they had to move their hands away from their private parts and place them on their heads. Jerry nervously rocked back and forth on his two legs as he did so. He was sure that his shaking was visible to everyone in the room. Paul was struggling to hold back tears. His skin felt like a thousand ants were running up and down his body. He was extremely conscious of the fact that his most private parts were now on display to all the adults and his little brother--his balls, his _c_o_c_k_, his butt--everything.
Then Mr. Roberts said, "Paul, you can be first. Let's see you take hold of Jerry's penis and make it squirt." Paul jumped a little at the crude way his father had put the demand. He looked at Jerry's face and then down to the hair between his legs, but made no move.
"Hurry up," Mrs. Roberts chimed in. "You haven't got all night, you know."
Both Paul and Jerry knew from the tone she used that they had better get on with it, and so Paul leaned over and took Jerry's organ between his fingers. He looked pleadingly at his parents and then at the parents of Jerry, but none showed any signs of releasing him from Mr. Robert's orders. There was nothing he could do but start to massage Jerry's penis.
Jerry found no pleasure in this. He dutifully stood there, with his hands still on his head, letting Paul do the work, but the stroking and pulling sensation gave him no excitement at all. It was one thing to be doing this alone with his closest friend; it was another to be performing in front of an audience. What in the world were his parents thinking in allowing this behavior to take place in such a public way?
Eventually Jerry's penis became sore from the ministrations of Paul, and it had only slightly stiffened. In front of the adults and Paul's little brother, his penis refused to come to attention.
"It's not working," Paul said with desperation in his voice. "Can I quit?"
"No," said his father. "I told you to make it squirt."
Paul pumped the organ harder, which only resulted in more irritation between Jerry's legs. Paul looked pleadingly at his father and Jerry had a most painful expression as he stood there. He was trying desperately to cum so that Paul would let go of his organ, but the more effort he put into it the less his penis seemed to want to rise.
Finally Mr. Roberts told Paul to stop. "You obviously can't have much fun at this," the father said, "so I don't know why you do it."
"Maybe Jerry will do better," Mr. Andrews said, turning to look his son in the face. "O. K., Jerry, it's your turn now."
Paul put his hands on top of his head and dutifully stood there waiting for Jerry to take hold of his penis and pump it just as he had just done to Jerry. But the results were much the same, and for the same reasons. Jerry's pumping action only irritated Paul's organ, which stretched a little but not enough.
Almost in tears, Jerry pleaded, as Paul had earlier, that he might stop the process. He pointed out that he could not make Paul ejaculate on command.
Mrs. Roberts asked them which one had produced the foam on the floor upstairs, and Paul admitted that he had. "So why can't you make him do it again, Jerry?" she asked.
Jerry pumped harder, but to no avail. He was now praying to himself that the process might come to an end soon so that he could go home and receive the punishment that he was sure his father would give him. He didn't care any more how hard the beating might be. He just wanted to get the whole thing over with.
"I think they are beginning to regret what they were doing upstairs," Mrs. Andrews finally said. "Perhaps it is time for us to give them their punishment."
The statement came as some relief to both boys. Neither knew how long he could continue to try to masturbate without success, and they both wanted a chance to get their clothes back on so that they weren't so exposed before their parents.
Mr. Roberts then turned to Philip and told him to go upstairs to the desk in Paul's room and find the plastic ruler that Paul used for his geometry homework and bring it down to him. Philip left and soon returned with the ruler, which he gave to his father.
Mr. Roberts went over to his son, who was still standing there with his hands on his head, and gently placed the two fingers of his left hand under the boy's penis and lifted it so that the limp appendage was sticking out in front of him. Then, using his right hand, Mr. Roberts brought the plastic ruler down with a smack on the end of Paul's penis.
Although Mr. Roberts didn't hit the appendage with much force, the stroke stung like anything and Paul yelled out and immediately brought his hands down from his head to protect himself.
"Keep your hands on your head, boy," Mr. Roberts said firmly. "I am going to hit you this way three times, and I know it's going to hurt. But you deserve it. Every time you bring your hands down to protect yourself, I will have to hit you again. Is that understood?"
Paul, almost in tears now, nodded to indicate that he understood, and clasped his fingers tightly together on top of his head so that he wouldn't inadvertently lower them again. He gritted his teeth as his father delivered the three stinging strokes with the ruler so as not yell out.
Then Mr. Roberts turned his attention to Jerry's penis, and delivered three strokes with the ruler to that appendage. The stinging pain of each stroke was almost more than Jerry could tolerate. And because he was circumcised the cutback part of his penis was more sensitive than Paul's uncut organ had been. He let out an audible whimper at each stroke, and it was all that he could do to maintain his hands on his head. But he did so because he didn't want to have to get a fourth stroke as Paul had.
"All right," said Mr. Roberts, "that's enough. Now you're both going to get the spanking you deserve."
Both get a spanking as well? That was something neither youth had anticipated. And apparently it was to be here in the living room, in view of all assembled. The two boys looked down, trying to concentrate their attention on the patterns in the rug.
"Again, you will be first, Paul," his father said. Then, with the help of Mr. Andrews, the two fathers moved a table into the center of the room. Next both men pulled their belts from the loops around their trousers and doubled these leather punishment implements in two. Paul and Jerry, with pleading eyes, looked toward their mothers, but to no avail.
"Now, Paul, bend over that table," Mr. Roberts commanded.
Paul reluctantly walked forward and stood in front of the table. It took all his will to bend over. The table was cool as he flattened his chest and torso against it. The smell of cedar varnish reached his nose when he pressed it against the wood. His stomach was turning cart wheels. He shook waiting for the pain of the first bite from his father's belt. But before he could feel that blow, Mrs. Roberts moved around the table to where his arms were outstretched. She took hold of his wrists and held them firmly so that he could not swing them backwards to protect his well-exposed bottom.
Mr. Roberts meanwhile reached down to pull his son's legs somewhat apart so that the butt crack was widened and the buttocks provided a more extended surface. Now the parents were ready, and Mr. Roberts began the punishment with five strong lashes of his belt. As each blow exploded across Paul's naked buttocks, he let out a yelp. The father then stooped to survey the welts on his son's stinging ass cheeks, decided this was not nearly enough, and landed five more vicious strokes on unmarked portions of the reddening orbs.
Paul again yelled at each blow and tried to squirm out of the way. He wanted to pull his hands to his backside, but his mother was holding him too securely.
Next Mr. Andrews moved in with more strikes with his belt, this one a bit thinner but just a stinging as the one wielded by Mr. Roberts. Paul's face soon became a blubbering mass of tears and snot. He was breathing in gasps that came intermittently between his sobs. Jerry stood there, his hands still on his head, watching the process in terror. He knew it would only be minutes before he leaning over the table and getting the same treatment. He hoped against hope that he could hold back his own tears better than Paul was able to do.
When both parents had completed blistering Paul's ass, Mr. Roberts told him to stand up and to put his hands back on his head so that he could watch Jerry get his well-deserved punishment. Paul, still sobbing, had difficulty rising from his bent-over position. He immediately wanted to rub his injured backside, but couldn't do that with his hands on his head so, instead, he began to bounce up and down in an attempt to ease the pain.
Jerry was pushed to the table by his own father and bent over it. The heat of Paul's body, so recently in that position, warmed his chest and torso. And he found his face lying on top of the wetness that his friends crying had left behind. Jerry tried to move his head out of the way, but not soon enough. Jerry's mother had by now grabbed his wrists so that he was afforded little movement.
Then his father struck him first, with the thin belt. The pain shot through him like a bolt of lightening, straight from his buttocks up to his brain. He almost yelled out, but only grunted. He was determined not to cry like his friend Paul had done.
In a few seconds his father's belt struck him again, and then again. Each stroke made its impression boy's rather beautifully curved, smooth, bare buttocks. And, though they had been milky white, almost creamy, before the length of leather found its mark, the thighs were now being laced with thin but nasty red welts. Jerry inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying his best not to cry. The muscles on his smooth bare thighs were stretched taught. Never before had he been whipped so severely by his father, and this was just the beginning. When Mr. Andrews decided to stop marking his son's posterior, Mr. Roberts moved in with his thicker belt. Then Jerry found he could no longer hold back his tears, and he began to sob just as much as Paul had.
When the belt whipping was over, Jerry also had just as much trouble rising from the bent-over position as had his friend, Paul. And he did much the same sting dance to try to ease the pain as he stood there with his hands on top of his head.
Philip was perhaps the most interested in watching the whole process. He was fascinated at seeing his brother and his brother's friend standing there totally nude with their hands on their heads and their backsides now blazing red. His own penis had become quite stiff, although he didn't exactly know why. He crossed his legs so that the bulge wouldn't show too much. But he didn't have to do this since no one was really looking at him. Instead, all concentration was on the two fourteen-year-olds.
"The floor to Paul's room needs a good cleaning," Mrs. Roberts said in an almost matter-of-fact way. "I think Paul should do it." She then turned to her son and told him to fill a bucket with hot water and detergent, get some rags, and go upstairs to his room and begin cleaning the floor on his hands and knees.
She then turned to Jerry, saying "The floor of Philip's room also probably needs a good cleaning. Jerry, you can do that one in the same way. Paul will show you where to find another bucket and some rags. And both of you can be sure that if you don't do a good job, your father will go at you with his belt again."
Paul and Jerry groaned, but knew they had no choice. As they started out of the room to get the cleaning equipment, they heard Mrs. Roberts tell Philip to go with them and watch them so they wouldn't fool around. "Make sure they do a good job," she said to Philip.
Thus, with the little brat walking behind closely them, Paul and Jerry weren't able to talk to each other with much freedom. They got the cleaning equipment and headed for the two upstairs bedrooms. Soon they were both on their knees, Paul in his own room and Jerry in Philip's, spreading the water around and wiping it up with the cloths.
Philip stood in the doorway to his brother's room watching him work. His upturned backside showed the marks of the two beltings he had just received, the welts lying on top of extremely red buttocks. In some cases, Philip could even distinguish by the size of the marks which belt, the thick one or the thin one, had left which impression. Philip rather enjoyed seeing his brother work at cleaning the floor, and from time to time, mostly in order to remind Paul that he was standing there, Philip would point out some spot on the floor Paul had missed or had not done thoroughly enough. Philip could easily see how much this irritated his brother, and that was part of the fun.
Paul for his part tried to think of as many ways as possible that he might get back at his little brother at some later date. Finally Philip tired of looking at Paul's ass and, to Paul's relief, walked away from the bedroom doorway to go to the doorway of his own room and watch Jerry for awhile. Here, too, Philip, enjoyed making the naked boy on the floor twitch in nervousness by his pointing out the places where the cleaning was not going as thoroughly as he believed it should. He looked forward to telling all his friends at school what was happening to Jerry and his brother and how he had participated in their punishment.
Finally both Paul and Jerry were finished their assignment and Philip could find no more spots they had missed. They returned the cleaning equipment to its rightful place, and returned to the living room in the hopes of being released by their parents. They had the sense this time to place their hands on their heads as they entered the living room.
Mrs. Roberts asked Philip if they had behaved as they worked and if he thought the job was done. Philip answered yes to both questions, and then, as both fourteen-year-olds stood there nervously waiting, she went upstairs to inspect the work. She returned to tell the other parents that the floors had been cleaned to her satisfaction.
"Perhaps we should have Jerry do all the housecleaning at our place from now on," said Mrs. Andrews, in jest. Jerry frowned, but said nothing.
Paul's arms were getting particularly tired as he held them on his head, and finally he asked his mother, "Can I take my hands down now?"
"We're not finished yet," his mother answered, "so just keep them there for awhile longer." Paul winced, but held his hands in place, wondering what might come next.
Then his mother said, "You can both drop your hands to your sides now, but come over here. You are both going to get an old-fashioned spanking across your mothers' knees. Paul you can stand next to Mrs. Andrews and Jerry you come stand next to me."
As the two moved into place, Mrs. Roberts reached under her chair to pick up a wooden kitchen spoon she had placed there, and Mrs. Andrews retrieved, also from under her chair, a Ping-Pong paddle. Soon the two bare-bottomed lads were over the laps of the two women. Mrs. Andrews' Ping-Pong paddle was almost as painful as her husband's belt had been, but the experience of its blows were quite different. Whereas the belt had produced searing red welts on Paul's bottom, the paddle laid on wide red splotches. And the wooden spoon wielded by Mrs. Roberts was also quite painful, laying smaller red splotches on Jerry's posterior.
At a signal, the two fourteen-year-old boys had to switch laps and feel the sting of their own mother's spankings with spoon and Ping-Pong paddle. The experience was not only quite painful but most embarrassing because the fathers and little Philip were watching. Then, finally, the two women tired of their exercise and told their sons to rise.
The parents now told the two boys to stand with their faces against the wall and listen to their lecture about proper behavior. This scolding was given in sections by all four parents, and was somewhat repetitious. But the part that Paul and Jerry heard most clearly was the fact that they were both to be grounded for the next month, and were not allowed to see each other, except at school, during that entire time. They were then permitted to go upstairs and put their clothes back on, but Mrs. Roberts accompanied them so that they would talk with each other as they did so. Finally Jerry's parents drove him home in silence.
During the month that followed, Jerry and Paul were quite miserable. It took more than a week before the redness of their buttocks disappeared and they could sit comfortably again. But, strangely enough, as each lay on his bed at night recalling the living-room humiliation and spanking, they each found that their penises almost immediately jumped into an upright position, something that had not happened in the Roberts' living room the day they were caught playing doctor.