I grew up with my mother in an older trailer park on the outside of town. I never knew my father, but I certainly knew a lot of my mother's boy friends. I didn't get much guidance from my mother, who was usually on drugs. Things actually were fairly normal up until I was about 8 years old. I wasn't very big, probably from malnourishment and because of my shy, non-aggressive personality, I was easy prey for many of my mother's boy friends and neighbors in the trailer park.
My mother rarely ever spanked me (she generally just ignored me) and the first spanking I can remember getting was from one of her boy friends. I was 8 years old at the time and the man was in his early 30's, I guess. I didn't know him very well since he had been "coming around" for only a few days. It was in the early evening, as I recall, and he had been drinking beer for a couple of hours when he suddenly told me, "Get over here, boy. I think you need some discipline." With my mom passed out on the couch, he grabbed me and began fumbling with the buttons on my jeans. I wasn't even certain what I had done to deserve punishment. I looked down and saw my jeans being pulled down and my underpants being exposed. Then he quickly pulled me across his lap and began spanking me. As the man laughed and I cried, my mom continued to sleep on the couch in a drunken stupor.
That man must have enjoyed spanking me because the next night the man spanked me again. This time my mother was down the street at a bar. This second spanking was a little more severe. He got my jeans down and my underpants before putting me across his lap and spanking me. Again he laughed and I cried. I remember that spanking really hurting a lot. A few nights later he left and I never saw him again. And I was thankful for that.
No one spanked me for several months after that. Then when I was 9 years old, and full of youthful curiousity, I was caught by a neighbor "trespassing" while looking through some trash he had behind his trailer. It was just some old junk and I didn't think he would mind. He yelled at me, "Hey, kid! What are you doing on my property?"
I didn't how to respond other than saying what most boys say in such a predicament, "Uh. uh. nothing. Just looking."
He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me into his trailer and began lecturing me, "You shouldn't be on my property. Maybe I should call the police and have you put in jail." I was scared, really scared, when he mentioned the police. So we made a quick deal. He would spank me instead of calling the police. I was so upset that he might call the police, that I didn't even protest when he began taking my pants off. Next thing I knew, I was across his lap with my pants off. Then he spanked me--probably about 20 times on my underpants. He didn't spank me hard and I didn't even cry, but I certainly learned my lesson: stay out of his trailer space!
It was about a year later when I was almost 11 years old, when I received my next spanking. My mother had this boy friend, an older guy, probably about 50. He didn't seem very interested in my mother. Instead he spent a lot of time with me. He was really kind of an ugly guy and I didn't really like him. But, of course, I had no choice in the matter. He used to tickle me a lot and make me sit on his lap. And if I did something wrong, he would spank me.
Spankings were always private sessions in my bedroom with the door locked. I couldn't really resist and besides, he had my mother's permission to spank me. He would undress me, stripping me down to my underpants. I protested that I could undress myself, but he insisted on doing it himself. Then I would go across his lap and he would slide my underpants down. That was probably the worst part. I hated him looking at my bare bottom. Then he would spank me--sometimes hard and other times softly. I soon found out that if I cried a lot, he would stop spanking me. After the spankings, he would slide my underpants back into place and then give me a few hugs as if everything would be okay if he hugged me. In that year he was at the trailer, he probably spanked me at least once a week. And the routine was usually the same.
One time when I was 14 a man in the trailer park offered me $20 if I would take my clothes off. At the time $20 was a lot of money, especially for a poor kid like me. So I went into his trailer and stripped down to my underpants. When he insisted that I strip all the way, I protested. So he gave me another $5 and I took my underpants off. When he offered me another $10 for a light spanking, I agreed. I went across his lap and he spanked me very lightly, but it must have lasted for 10 minutes.
When I was 16 I "borrowed" one of my mom's boy friend's cars. However, I didn't have permission and when I brought it back about 11 p. m., he was furious. "What you need," he said, yelling at me, "is a good old fashioned spanking." I didn't really protest, figuring he could call the cops or maybe something worse. When he marched me into my bedroom, I didn't object. Then he started taking my clothes off. With me lieing on back on the bed, he slid my underpants down and off. I noticed that he took a very long look at my _c_o_c_k_ before turning me over and doing the same to my ass. Then suddenly he started spanking my bare fanny and he spanked it very hard. Although it stung like fire, there was a certain stimulation I got from the spanking. In fact, after he left, I jerked off.
So those are some of my spanking experiences while I was growing up.