Stealing From A Friend

He stood before me looking more like an errant five-year old having stolen cookies from the cookie jar, than the confident fourteen-year old he normally was. Of course, it wasn't cookies that he'd taken this time and he knew I was pissed! What he'd done defied explanation. After all, he'd stolen a stack of Guy Lombardo records from my Dad's collection and I couldn't believe any normal teenager would be interested enough in that kind of music to risk taking the albums from a friend. Never the less, he did and I was lucky enough to notice that they were missing before my dad got home from work. All hell would have broken out if he'd seen it first.

The minute I saw the empty spot on the shelf I knew he'd taken them. There had only been the two of us in the house and I was certain I hadn't done anything with them. Past experience had taught me to stay far away from the _d_a_m_n_ed things and I'd had a number of VERY painful reminders driven home over my dad's knee. No, there wasn't any other explanation, Marty had to have taken them.

I knew Marty had a little problem with sticky fingers. He was my best friend after all, and you can't hide something like that from someone as close as we were. But he'd never stolen anything from me before and now I wasn't sure how to react. Stealing them in the first place was bad enough. Stealing them from your best friend was something entirely beyond belief. The only good thing about it was that he'd owned up to it when I confronted him with the evidence and immediately returned the albums.

"I can't believe that you stole my dad's records," I said, not sounding nearly as angry as I really was.

"I'm sorry Bobby," he whined, staring at the floor. "I won't do it again."

"Oh I know you won't, you can count on that," I growled. "But, that doesn't change the fact that you did, does it?"

"No," he softly replied.

"So what do you suggest I do about it?" I bluntly asked.

"I don't know," he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders.

"Don't give me that crap!" I yelled. "Do you have any idea what my dad would have done to me when he saw they were gone?"

Glancing up at me, he said, "No."

"He would have blistered my ass," I said, my anger showing again. "What do you think your dad would do if he knew about what you did?"

"Oh God, Bobby," he pleaded. "Please don't tell my dad."

"What would he do if I told him?" I insisted.

Marty's gaze returned to the floor and he said, "ground me forever, I guess. Please don't tell him."

"Don't tell your dad!" I said. "What am I supposed to do, ignore what you did?"

Marty just stood there looking down at the floor in silence. After a few moments he looked up and started to say something but stopped before he got the sound out. I just sat there letting the silence go on. After another long pause, he finally raised his eyes and said. "I don't know."

I just stared at him with this look of total frustration. "If I had done what you did Marty, I'd get the spanking of my life and that's what you really deserve," I explained. "Unfortunately, I can't spank you."

Marty's head instantly came up, and he said, "Why not, you did it before."

Months ago, we had been goofing around in my bedroom when he started teasing me about something. I told him he'd better stop or I paddle his little butt. He kept on until I finally pulled him down onto the bed and gave his ass about twenty swats with my bare hand. I hadn't hit him hard enough to really hurt him, but I suppose his pride was a little bruised because of it.

"That was nothing more than a few playful pats on your ass," I insisted. "That wasn't anything like what you deserve now."

Looking back at me, he said, "I'll do anything Bobby, just don't tell my dad."

"Let me get this straight," I said. "You're suggesting that I give you a spanking instead of telling your dad?"

After a brief moment of silence he finally managed to say, "I....I guess."

"Marty, you have no idea how much I'd love to do that right now," I said. "But as soon as my dad found out about it, he'd hit the roof."

"How would he find out?" Marty insisted. "I sure wouldn't tell him."

"I don't know Marty," I said. "I'd feel real funny doing something like that."

"You didn't have any problem doing it before?" he said, looking straight into my eye's. "And you know I won't say anything."

"Look," I began. "If I gave you a spanking, it would be the real one you deserve. Not just a few taps on the seat of your jeans like the last time. By the time I got done with you, you wouldn't be able to sit comfortably for a week."

"I know what a spanking is, Bobby," he said. "Your not the only one who's had one you know."

"I just want you to know what you're getting yourself into," I explained. "If I do it, It will be a real spanking."

Looking at the floor again, he mumbled, "I understand."

I was only three months older than Marty and I'd never spanked someone for real. The closest I'd actually come to spanking anyone was that day with Marty. Now I wasn't sure what to do. There was no doubt that he deserved a good spanking, but I wasn't sure I could actually do it. Besides, I didn't even know how to go about giving a spanking to someone. My uncertainty got the better of me and I said, "Gee Marty, I don't think I should."

Marty looked up at me with desperation in his eyes and began pleading with me. "Come on Bobby," he said. "You can do anything you want, just don't tell my dad."

I just stared back at him in silence not knowing what to say.

"Please," he begged.

"OK, OK," I said, after he finally wore down my resolve. "I'll do it. But it will be for real and you have to do everything I say."

He broke into this wide grin and said, "You won't tell my dad then?"

"No," I answered. "I won't say anything to him."

This look of relief swept across his face and he said, "Good."

"Don't be to happy," I said. "You are going to get a spanking."

"That's OK," he said. "What do you want me to do?"

Marty was my best friend and I really didn't want to hurt him. But, I couldn't tolerate his stealing from me. Especially when it was my dad's stuff he took. If I hadn't discovered the records missing before my dad did, I would have gotten my ass blistered. It was only fair that he got the same thing I would have.

"I'm going to spank you just like my dad would have done to me if I hadn't found the records missing," I explained. "I want you to take off your clothes."

Marty's eye's got real big and he said, "You're not going to spank me on the bare ass are you?"

"I certainly am," I said. "Get them off."

"No way, Bobby," he protested. "You didn't say anything about doing it on the bare ass."

"Listen," I said. "When I'm the one doing the spanking, we do it my way. My dad would have made me strip for it and so will you. Now get moving."

Reluctantly, Marty began pulling off his shirt. For the first time I could see the apprehension in his eye's and was certain he was thinking he'd made a huge mistake. Dropping the shirt on the floor, he paused briefly and looked back at me. "Keep moving," I insisted. "Pants too."

He slowly unfastened his belt and let his pants drop to his knees. I couldn't help but stare at the bulge in the front of his white cotton briefs. It occurred to me that I'd never seen him without clothes before and I was surprised by how nice he looked. He was tall and thin with a well-defined swimmer's body that was perfectly hairless. Judging from the lump in his shorts, he also had to be well endowed.

He kicked his shoes off and stepped out of his pants, leaving him standing before me clad only in his cotton shorts, which suddenly seemed to be tenting out in front. Something had certainly excited the boy, but he didn't make a move to conceal his condition. Without saying a word, I motioned for him to lower his briefs, which he did in one swift movement that left his engorged _c_o_c_k_ bouncing wildly from side to side.

For a few seconds I just sat there looking at his naked body. Tearing my gaze away from his manhood, I said, "That always happen when you get spanked?"

Turning a bright red, he managed to say, "Ah....I..... Ah..... Sometimes."

Returning my attention to the task at hand, I said, "Go into my closet and bring me a shoe."

"A shoe?" Marty said, not sure what I meant.

"Yes, a shoe," I said. "And make sure it has a smooth sole, too."

He gave me this confused look before turning to complete his assignment. My heart skipped a few beats as I watched the soft fleshy mounds of his ass jiggle rhythmically with each step he took. For the first time, I recognized the hardness between my legs. For some reason, Marty's naked body excited me.

"Here," he said, handing me the shoe. "Is this what you wanted?"

Taking the shoe in my right hand, I said, "It's perfect." Looking up at him, I added, "Are you ready?"

Slowly nodding his head, he said, "as ready as I'll ever be, I guess,"

"Let's get it over with then," I said firmly, taking him by the arm and leading him across my outstretched knees. Without another word, I reached for the shoe and raised it high over my head.

SMACK!

"Ahhh!" Marty howled. "Not so ......"

WHACK! SMACK! WHAP!

Marty struggled, whined and pleaded for me to stop. But, I was determined to give him a lesson he wouldn't forget and continued the assault on his bare butt.

SMACK! SMACK! WHACK!

"Owwwww!"

SMACK!

"Oooooo!"

WHAP!

"Ahhhhh!"

When the boy stopped struggling, I stopped. He'd had enough and I let him cry it out still draped over my knees. While he regained his composure, I gently rubbed his abused skin, which had turned a very angry shade of red.

He finally stopped crying and I helped him to his feet. He was standing there wiping the tears from his face with two balled up fists when I noticed the large wet spot on the carpet under my feet. For a minute, I didn't realize what the spot was from and touched it with my fingers. Suddenly, the odor hit me and I realized that Marty had come at some point during the spanking.

"I'm sorry Bobby," he softly said. "I didn't mean to do that."

I sat there wide eyed, just staring back at him trying to understand what had just happened. Marty had gotten off by being spanked. "Do you always come when you get spanked?" I asked.

"No," he answered.

"Has it happened before?" I said. "Or is this the first time?"

"It's only happened one other time," he explained. "When my cousin Jerry spanked me."

"Jerry!" I said. "He's only twelve years old. Why would he spank you?"

Sheepishly, Marty looked at me and said, "Because I asked him to."

"You wanted him to spank you?" I asked, still confused.

Looking back at the floor, he softly said, "Yes."

Then it all came to me. Marty wanted me to spank him and had manipulated me to do it. For some reason, he got off on being spanked and intentionally put himself into a position to be punished. I didn't understand what was going through his mind and for the moment, didn't care. I was struggling with my own excitement and badly needed to release my surging hormones.

"Do you think I'm weird?" Marty asked.

"No, I guess not," I said.

Marty gave me this scared look and said, "I'll bet you do."

"I don't think you're weird," I insisted.

"Yeah, sure." He said. "I'll bet."

I quickly stood up, unzipped my pants, and let them fall to the floor. Wrapping my hand around the base of my rock hard _c_o_c_k_, I said, "Does this look like I think you are weird?"

Marty just stood there gaping at my engorged tool as I furiously pumped my hand up and down. In seconds, I erupted; shooting a stream of spunk that splattered on his right leg. Several more spurts of the gooey fluid found their way to the floor before I finished. "Now," I said. "Did that look like I think you're weird?"

"No," Marty said, breaking into a fit of giggles.

The two of us didn't say much as he dressed and I cleaned up the mess. A few minutes later, I walked up behind him and softly patted his butt. Whispering in his ear, I said, "You know we're going to do that again, don't you?"

Grinning back at me, he said, "I'll count on it."