There is no _s_e_x_ual activity in this story about baseball, the friendship of two 11 year olds, and -- of course, the spanking of the same. You might want to read Part One to get acquainted with the main characters.

It was no secret with anyone associated with the two teams, how close Chris and Pepe had become. In fact, the sponsors of the trip were delighted. Arrangements had been made with the officials of both teams to allow the boys to spend their days off together. Chris was to spend the mid-series break with Pepe and his grandfather, while Pepe would be a guest at the hotel for the last two days of the exhibition. Both boys were thrilled!

The following morning, Chris slipped on his white Fruit of the Looms briefs and a pair of tan cargo shorts. He considered wearing his Eagles' jersey, but decided against it. He put on a navy blue World Series New York Yankees T-shirt and cap instead. He laced up his white Nikes and grabbed his suitcase. The youngster raced down to the lobby where the hotel shuttle was going to take him to the old stadium.

When he arrived, Chris didn't see anyone around, so he headed for the locker room. Outside the door, he heard an angry voice in Spanish. He paused. Then he recognized Pepe's voice in reply. The American boy entered quickly.

Chris saw his young friend in white soccer shorts, a yellow soccer shirt that hung below his waist, and a pair of leather sandals. A red Texas Rangers cap was in his hand. He was standing before the old groundskeeper, who looked quite stern and had his hands on his hips. The old man looked much more animated than he ever did before. Both Cubans turned abruptly as Chris came in. Pepe looked worried.

"Zurrar?" asked the old man, and Chris froze. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but he didn't think it was good.

Much to Chris's surprise, the old man began speaking in flawless English.

"Is it true then, Pepe? You let the boys zurrar your friend?"

Pepe shifted his weight nervously from one foot to another.

"I couldn't help it, Grandpa."

GRANDPA!

Chris had no idea!

The old groundskeeper was Pepe's grandfather! Pepe had never mentioned it. Chris wondered why.

Turning to Chris, the old man kindly said, "How many swats, son?"

Chris stammered, "Uh – twelve, sir."

He quickly added, "But I'm okay, sir. Really I am!"

"Mind if I see?" asked Pepe's grandfather.

Not sure, at first, what he meant, it finally dawned on Chris.

"Oh – okay."

Chris set his suitcase down and tugged his cargo shorts down.

Then he turned around and lowered his white briefs to mid-thigh.

In the mirror, behind all three figures, he could see his "sit down" spots were still a slightly pink. They tingled a bit, but he was okay.

"Very well, Chris. Thank you. You can pull your pants up."

Gazing angrily at Pepe, the grandfather said, "You know how much I disapprove of this cruel practice, hijo. And you stood by and let a guest of this country – and a friend of yours no less – suffer through it!"

Pepe hung his head in shame.

"Perhaps I should let Chris return the favor to you, young man!"

"Noooooo!" shouted Chris. "It wasn't his fault, sir. He could not have stopped them. He really did try to help me. Please, sir, I don't want to hurt Pepe."

The old man looked intently at Chris.

"You are a bueno amigo, Chris Daniels. But Pepe had could have told me about this. I would have put a stop to it. Pepe knows that. He needs to atone for that, Chris.

The man paused in thought.

"But I won't make you be a part of it."

Grandfather turned his attention to Pepe and barked something in Spanish. The boy wordlessly slid down his white soccer shorts to his ankles. Chris was somewhat surprised to see his buddy was not wearing anything underneath.

The old man easily scooped up his grandson and gently placed him over one knee. He pulled up the yellow soccer shirt to the boy's armpits. Chris could see how Pepe's bronze back and legs contrasted greatly with his tan bare little bottom.

The old man reached down and took off one of his own leather sandals. He brushed the sole off carefully on his pant leg. Then he raised it high in the air.

"You will get precisely what your friend got, hijo – no more, no less."

WHACK! WHAP! WHACK!

Pepe's head bolted upright as three rapid fire swats were delivered to the lower part of his right cheek where his rear met the back of his legs. Grandfather paused long enough for Chris to observe the warmed buttock actually change colors.

WHACK! WHACK! WHAP!

The large sandal smack the tan left cheek in the same area. Pepe kicked hard enough to send his own sandals flying halfway across the room, but he did not cry out. Chris was amazed to see the left buttock change to the same rosy pink color as its twin. He remembered how much his rear was smarting halfway through his zurrar yesterday.

Grandfather delivered the last half dozen in alternating fashion – one hard swat on one "sit down" spot, then one on his mate until the sentence had been carried out. On the ninth swat, Pepe had kicked his soccer shorts clear off. Although he clearly had tears in his eyes, he did not cry out.

At the end of the twelfth smack, Grandfather put down the sandal and began carefullly massaging a pair of very red little cheeks – or at least the lower half were. Pepe moaned softly.

The old man motioned to Chris to bring him the two bottles on the shelf. Chris hurried over to them. He immediately recognized them as the lotion and talc powder that Pepe had used to soothe his own sore behind the day before. He rushed them over to Pepe's grandfather.

Grandfather squeezed the cooling lotion on the red parts of his grandson's posterior. He gently massaged the welcomed relief all over the boy's round little rump.

'So that's where Pepe learned that,' though Chris.

Pepe appeared to Chris to be very relaxed during this particular time. Once Grandfather had worked all the lotion into the throbbing buttocks, he sprinkled talc on the boy's backside and spread it around.

He then helped the half naked lad on his feet and held him in a huge embrace. The man whispered something in Spanish and kissed his grandson on the cheek (face, that is).

While Pepe stood there rubbing his backside, Grandfather introduced himself to Chris. "I am Manual Ramirez and my grandson and I are honored to have you as our guest in our country and in our house." .

Chris shook the very hand that had held the sandal that had just walloped his friend's naked behind. It was a strong grip. The American was impressed. The man seemed pleasant enough without a sandal in his hand.

Senor Ramirez excused himself to water the field and the two boys were left alone. Pepe was still casually rubbing his "sit down" spots.

"Does it still hurt, Pepe?" asked Chris.

Pepe nodded.

"Feel them," the Cuban youngster said bending forward at the waist.

The offer surprised Chris, but he was curious enough to follow up on it. He carefully laid his right hand on Pepe's red right buttock. He was amazed how warm it felt. He found the same to be true for the left cheek.

"Wow!"

"Yours were pretty hot yesterday, amigo," grinned Pepe standing upright. The chastised eleven year old went to retrieve his shorts and sandals.

"Pepe, how come you aren't wearing any underpants?"

Pepe shrugged his shoulders.

"It's just more comfortable for me this way."

"How come you didn't tell me the groundskeeper was your grandfather?"

Pepe shrugged again.

"I guess I didn't have any reason to before."

A moment of silence passed between the two boys, as Pepe got dressed.

"Come on, Chris. Let's get outta here. Leave your suitcase here. We will come back later, when Grandpa is done watering the field. We can play some ball then."

The two eleven year olds scurried up to the field and waved to Pepe's grandfather, who returned the gesture. Chris noticed two boy's bicycles in the gangway.

"Are we going to use these?"

"Ummm, not right now if you don't mind," said Pepe ruefully rubbing the seat of his white shorts.

"Oh!" replied Chris -- understanding immediately.

The boys walked through Havana taking in the sights and snacking on the local delicacies. Eventually, they hopped a bus that took them to the city's north coast. Chris was awed by the beautiful beaches he saw.

"C'mon," said Pepe. "I got my own private beach!"

Chris took out after Pepe, who was already running across the white sand. Just as Chris caught up with his host, Pepe took a sharp turn into a clump of trees. Chris followed. After struggling through a few yards of dense growth, both boys emerged on the shore of a serene lagoon. It was awesome – and no one else was around.

"No one ever comes here," said Pepe. "It's my hideaway."

He took off his Texas Rangers cap and kicked off his sandals. He pulled his yellow soccer jersey over his head.

"Hurry up, Chris! What are you waiting for?"

Chris immediately began to follow suit as Pepe began tugging his white soccer shorts off. Chris could not help but notice that his friend's bottom was still pink where he had been spanked previously.

A clothes free Pepe playfully pushed Chris over, while the latter was untying his Nikes.

"Slowpoke!"

In seconds, Chris was as naked as his compatriot. Pepe jumped into the lagoon, and Chris promptly followed. The boys swam, splashed, and ducked each other in the warm water.

After about an hour, they paused – submerged to their necks – to rest.

"Is that the way your grandpa punishes you, Pepe?"

"Not really," replied the Cuban boy. "He was just mad at me for what happened to you. He was trying to set things right for you. It wasn't a real punishment spanking."

Chris wasn't sure he wanted to know about how his wiry friend got a real punishment spanking. He couldn't imagine Pepe doing anything that would even cause one to happen.

"How come you didn't tell your grandpa about the zurrar?"

Pepe looked crestfallen, and for a minute, Chris thought his friend was going to cry.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I really thought about it and I almost did. But I gotta work with these guys every day. They take real good care of me. Besides, I would have gone through with it if I had lost."

"But you got it anyway," replied Chris.

"I know," grimaced Pepe. "I was really hoping you would agree to doing it."

"Why?" said a startled Chris.

"Grandfather spanks hard! I figured you would have gone easier on me."

"I honestly never thought of that, Pepe."

There was a moment of silence.

"Did it really hurt? You didn't cry," said Chris.

"Wanna find out?" joked Pepe.

"OK"

Now it was the Cuban youngster's turn to be surprised.

"What?"

"Well," said Chris, "I figured I got yesterday what was part of the deal. What you got this morning was not fair. I guess the score needs to be evened. Besides, I didn't help like I shoulda. You, at least, helped me out all you could yesterday."

Pepe pondered this.

"Are you serious, Chris?"

"Absolutely!"

"OK – if you say so, but no more than what I got."

"Deal!" responded Chris.

Both boys swam to shore. Their bodies were glistening wet as they emerged from the water. Pepe retrieved his small right sandal and carefully cleaned off the sole.

The Cuban lad proceeded to a nearby rock and sat down. He playfully patted his lap.

"C'mon, naughty boy!" he chuckled.

Dripping wet, Chris complied putting his lithe soaking wet body tummy down over Pepe's lap. He adjusted himself so his pale white buttocks were up high before his young friend.

Now neither boy understood the concept that a very wet, bare rear intensifies the sting of a leather soled sandal slapping it. Pepe raised the sandal over the small white rear that was beaded with water. He was intent on spanking Chris just as his grandfather had done to him hours ago. And Chris was just as intent on being as brave as Pepe had been and not cry out.

WHACK! WHACK! WHAP!

Pepe delivered three quick zingers to Chris's right "sit down" spot. The water droplets scattered as Chris howled in agony.

Both boys were surprised, but Chris more so as he felt like Pepe had just paddled his butt with a hot skillet.

"You okay, Chris?" asked an anxious Pepe.

Chris was determined not to back out.

"Yes," he gasped. He steeled himself for the next onslaught. Pepe was awestruck at how red Chris's right cheek had turned with just three swats.

"You sure you wanna go through with this?"

"Yes, yes! Please hurry!"

Pepe raised the sandal over the wet left buttock.

WHACK! WHAP! WHACK!

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!"

Chris could not stifle the cry as the left side of his rump was set ablaze.

Pepe decided to get this over as quickly as possibly and began to deliver the remaining six swats vigorously alternating from one damp cheek to the other.

WHACK! WHAP! WHACK! WHAP! WHACK! WHAP!

Chris kicked and bucked mightily as his shrieked.

"YEOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW! YEOOOOOOOOWWWWWWW! OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

After the final swat, he lept up and began hopping up and down rubbing his stinging "sit down" spots franctically. Tears streamed down his face and Pepe began crying too.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I'm so sorry!"

"I-it's okay," sobbed Chris.

"You wanna spank me? asked Pepe.

"No," said a pained eleven year old. "We are even now."

Chris pulled his hands away and let Pepe inspect the damage.

"WOW! It is so red! I am so sorry, Chris."

"It's OK, Pepe."

Chris was astonished that such a little kid could pack such a wallop, but neither boy compehended how the wetness of Chris's bottom added to his anguish.

Pepe quickly ushered Chris back into the water with the hopes it would soothe the youngster's throbbing backside.

Treading water, Chris remarked, "I don't know how you did not cry out when your grandpa was spanking you."

"I dunno. It wasn't as bad as my real punishment spankings."

After ten minutes of cooling off the area that needed cooling off, both boys climbed out of the water. They laid tummy down on a large flat rock to let the sun dry their slender bodies off naturally.

Any onlooker would have been treated to the sight of a naked pink bottomed Cuban boy laying next to a nude red bottomed American lad. After a while, they rolled over to let the sun's warmth dry off the other side. Exhausted, neither boy said anything.

Once the sun did its work, both youngsters got up to dress. Taking a cue from Pepe, Chris neatly folded his briefs and socks and put them in one of the pockets of his cargo shorts. Chris carried his Nikes, and Pepe his sandals, as they walked along the beach to the bus stop.

The balance of the afternoon saw two happy boys playing baseball for hours at the stadium. At dusk, they grabbed the bikes and pedaled to Pepe's house, but neither boy's tender bottom ever touched the bike seat!