My name's Matt Blair. My mom died from cancer last Summer. She and my dad were divorced when I was a baby, and he died seven years ago in an accident. Even though my mom left me the house and the insurance money, and I'm only a year away from being eighteen, the state wouldn't let me stay by myself. I told them I didn't have any relatives. Then they said they were going to put me into foster care, and I admitted that I had an uncle in Ohio.
Mike is my father's younger brother. I'd only met him a few times. I didn't know if he'd want me, and I didn't know how I'd like living with him. But I had read enough about foster homes to know that I didn't want to end up in one.
When the social worker called Mike, he said he'd be right out to get me
Mike lives in a small town, where he teaches gym in the middle school. As soon as he arrived, I could tell that he was really sympathetic and wanted to help me any way he could.
It's not bad out here at all. Mike owns a house, and he keeps it in ship-shape. I have my own room. He cooks good meals. We both follow sports, so we always have something to talk about. He even lent me money to buy a car. He says I can pay him back when I get my inheritance.
The school here is much smaller than my old one. Back in Connecticut I wouldn't have even tried out for the varsity basketball team. Here they think I'm good. Maybe that's why I haven't had much trouble making friends.
Nelson Graves and I hang out together a lot. Besides playing basketball, he plays football. He's six feet tall and weighs 190 pounds. Even though he's the best athlete and definitely one of the best looking guys in the school, he doesn't have an attitude.
Nelson and I were in the shower after gym class on Monday when Ken Dowling walked in.. When he passed us, I noticed that his ass was bruised. Before Nelson or I had said anything, he started giving us this long spiel: "I was hanging up Christmas lights," he said, "and I fell off the ladder."
Nelson wasn't buying it. "Bull_s_h_i_t_," he said. "You got spanked."
Ken's face turned red.
"What are you so uptight about?" Nelson asked him. "You think I never get it?"
Ken was taken back. "You do?" he said.
"Sure. I got it last week-- for sneaking out when I was grounded. They got home before I did. I knew what I was going to get as soon as I saw the car. The old man didn't even ask any questions. He just said 'Upstairs, Buster'."
Hearing about Nelson's punishment made Ken loosen up and tell us about his. "My mother got on my case about cleaning up my room, and I said, 'Quit being such a pain in the ass.' I didn't know my father was in the kitchen. He came flying up the stairs and said, 'I'll show you what a pain in the ass is."
"Looks like he did," Nelson said.
Ken laughed.
We had to get dressed and go to our next class, so no more was said, but all day long I kept thinking about the conversation. Whenever I thought about either of them especially Nelson getting spanked, I started to get hard. I couldn't figure out why.
The next Saturday our team won a basketball game. Since Tom Bradford's parents were away, we decided that his house would be a great place to celebrate. Tom's father buys beer by the case, and Tom didn't think he'd notice if a couple of six-packs were missing. So we drank a few beers. For Nelson and me it was the first time. The beer hit us pretty fast.
On the way home we got the idea to stand on the highway overpass and throw stones at the passing cars. Along came a police car. We aimed for it and hit it. The cop turned on his lights and headed up the ramp. We laughed.
The cop was a young guy who had played basketball when he was in high school. He recognized Nelson right away. "Let met guess," he said. "You guys have been to a victory party."
We just kept on laughing.
"Do you know you're guilty of disorderly conduct? Climb into the car."
He took us to the station and made us sit on a bench in the back room while he went to talk to the lieutenant.
"What should we do with them?" we heard him ask.
"I know Bill Graves's kid will be taken care of at home. Who's the other one?"
"I don't know. Let's find out."
He called me in. I explained that I was Mike Blair's nephew."
"The coach?" he asked.
I shook my head.
He turned to the cop who brought us in and said, "I don't think we need to worry about this one, either. Just let them sit there. I'll call Bill and Mike."
Nelson started to feel sick. He went into the bathroom and puked. The same thing happened to me a few minutes later. Then we started to realize how much trouble we were in. Nelson was scared. I began to worry about what Mike would do.
They arrived at the same moment, and the cop brought us out to meet them.
"I'm sorry, Dad," Nelson said.
"I'm sure you are," Mr. Graves answered.
I didn't know what to say to Mike.
When we got into his car, he said, "Tell me the whole story. I don't want to be surprised by anything I hear from anybody else."
"We went over to Tommy's after the game."
"Were his parents there?"
"No. They were away."
"Did they know he was having a party?"
"No."
"Where did you get the beer?"
"There were two cases in the basement."
"How many did you and Nelson drink?"
"I had three. I think Nelson did, too."
"Is this the first time?"
"Yeah."
"Did you really think it was O. K. to go to a party at Tom's when his parents were away and didn't even know about it."
"I didn't really think about it."
"Well, you should have. You're seventeen years old."
"Yes, sir." I had never answered him that way before. Things were getting to the point where I thought I better.
"Did you think it was O. K. to help yourself to their beer?"
"I guess not."
"You GUESS not? You know _d_a_m_n_ed well it wasn't"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you know you were drunk when you left the party?"
"Yes, sir."
"Were you really so drunk that you didn't know you could have damaged cars and injured people?"
"If I had thought about it... I just didn't think."
"Well, you should have. You were very irresponsible, and I think you need to be punished."
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"This is serious, Matt. I can't just ground you for a couple of days. Nelson's dad says he going to wallop him. If you were my son, I'd do the same thing. I think I'm going to have to take you off the basketball team."
"Mike, PLEASE don't do that," I begged.
"Would you rather get a spanking?"
"Sure."
"Have you ever had one?"
"Well... not really."
"I'm not talking about a cuff on the seat of the pants. I'm talking about a good sound paddling on the bare butt."
"I'd rather take it than quit basketball."
"You're a good man," he said.
I was scared, but I was also excited. The rest of the way to Mike's house I said nothing.
When we got to the house, Mike went rummaging through an old trunk until he found a small paddle. It wasn't like a fraternity paddle; it was only about ten inches long and maybe four inches wide. "This belonged to my dad. I don't know why I kept it, but now it going to come in handy."
He sat led me into the TV room and sat down on the sofa. "Take your pants down," he said quietly, "and get over my knee."
As soon as I started unbuckling my belt, I began to get a hardon. I reluctantly let my jeans drop below my knees, but with my dick sticking out in front of me, I was embarrassed to pull down my shorts.
"Don't worry about THAT," he said with a smile. Pull down your shorts."
I pulled them down and put myself across his lap. Mike took hold of my right wrist and held it firmly behind my back. With my bare ass in the air and my dick rubbing against his leg, I thought I was going to shoot. But then he delivered the first swat. The pain took my breath away. The hardon disappeared.
The sting was much worse than I had ever imagined. I didn't know how I was going to stand it. I started howling. Before long there were tears running down my cheeks. Mike just kept swatting away. I tightened my butt. That made it worse. I kicked and wiggled. That made it worse. Finally I just went limp. Mike didn't stop till he had given me twenty-five. Then he said I could get up.
When I had pulled up my pants, he gave me a hug and said, "I know that was a bitch to take, but now it's over, and the matter's closed. You won't hear another word from me about it."
I went to my room. Although my ass was still throbbing, it didn't hurt any more. It actually felt good. My hardon came back. I rubbed it a few times and shot the biggest wad I'd ever seen.
The next day Nelson called. "Are you grounded?" he asked.
"No," I said. "Are you?"
"No, but I sure got walloped."
"I did, too."
I asked Mike if I could invite Nelson over. "You can always invite Nelson over," he said.
Soon after Nelson arrived, Mike said he had some shopping to do and headed for the mall. Nelson and I went up to my room.
"Let's check out the damages," he said.
"What do you mean?" I asked, as if I didn't know.
"We've gotta compare the marks on our asses to see who got it worse."
Before I could say anything he had pulled his pants down. His rear end was covered with bruises of every color.
Even though I was afraid I'd get a hardon, I wanted to show off my marks, too.
"You got it just as bad as I did," he said. "You're really marked up."
"Mike usually pretty easy-going, but he really laid it on."
Nelson reached over and put his hand on my butt to feel the bruises. Then it happened. My dick stiffened up.
Nelson saw it and said, "I always get hard after a spanking,"
He started getting hard himself. I put my hand on his ass. We messed around until we had both come, and then we went outside to shoot baskets.