[Note: This is another story re-submitted to this archive in revised form. The rest will follow over the next few weeks, and some new ones will be added. I hope you like them; I am grateful to the readers who have written with comments.]
I want to tell you about the time my Uncle Jack lost a bet up at the hunting lodge, and my Dad spanked him with the oval paddle in front of all the guys on the trip.
That was a weekend I'll never forget. It all took place at my Granddad's cabin by the lake. I had just turned 19 that summer, and my cousin Steve was 18. We were way too cool to hang out with relatives, but when my Dad asked us if we wanted to go with him, my Uncle Ted, Uncle Jack and three of their lodge brothers for a weekend of fishing, we were up for it. Truth is, we were kind of excited. I hadn't been fishing since about the eighth grade, not that I was exactly a fanatic about the sport. Steve thought it was ok, but would much rather have played football or practiced with his band. I guess we were happy to be included and treated like adults.
All the way up there Uncle Jack and my Dad had had this rivalry going. They were close, and had been best friends even before he married my aunt Jean, so it was all in fun, but everything seemed to be a contest for some reason. Uncle Ted, Dad's brother, joked that they were acting like he and my Dad used to act as kids. They disputed the best route to take to the cabin, what bait to buy, where to stop for lunch, all that stuff. Jack was a career Marine, and Dad had been in the Navy--that was another well of material for ribbing each other. We all had a good time, and their friends from the Moose Lodge, Terry, Clay and Randy, were giving each of the self-elected opponents points for the best jabs. Jack told the one about the Marine and Sailor in the men's room:
"In the Navy they teach us to wash our hands after using the head!" the sailor says. "Yeah?" says the other guy, "In the Marines they teach us not to piss on our hands!" Everybody laughed, even Dad, grudgingly.
We got up there around three on Friday afternoon. The plan was to settle in and get to bed early. To get the best fishing, you have to get up at like four in the morning! I had forgotten how neat it was up there, all secluded. The lake looked so great, you wanted to just jump right in, and the tall cedars and pines with scant undergrowth made me want to go off exploring. And then the quiet--it took a while to get used to the absence of suburban noise so far away from things. Steve and I decided to check out the surroundings after we had stowed our gear in the room we were going to share. Dad told us to be back before sundown. "No problem," I said.
First stop: the latrine. It had been a long drive. The outhouse was kind of unique--at least I had never seen one like it. It was a Five-Seater. The pit had been dug in an L-shape, with three seats along one side, neighbored by two on an adjacent side. "You could have quite the little discussion group in here," Steve joked. "Yeah," I said, "a meeting of the high council!"
We heard Dad and Uncle Jack discussing when to get dinner started as we took off for the forest. Clay and Uncle Ted were getting some stuff out of their trucks. "You boys be careful now," they called.
This place was really cool. You got a great view of the lake up the hill a ways from the cabin. We probably went farther than we should have, though. We were checking out what looked like it might be a cave, when all of a sudden whamo: sundown. It got dark so fast, we were caught off guard.
"_s_h_i_t_, Steve, we're supposed to be back now," I said.
When we got back, everyone was at the table with dinner waiting. "I thought I told you boys to be back before sundown," Dad said, frowning.
"Yeah, sorry Dad," I said as we took our places. It was steaks and canned chili. Guy food.
"Well, I guess we can let them eat anyway, what do you think, Rick?" Terry said. "Well I guess so," said Dad, giving me a wink. "Dig in, you two."
Steve and I cleared the table after dinner, Clay and Randy having volunteered for KP duty. They were just getting started when Clay goes "Uh oh, no soap."
"Hey, is there anything to wash the dishes with?" Randy called out to the big expansive living room, where all the rest of the guys had parked themselves.
"Oh jeez," says Dad, "that's one thing I forgot to pick up."
"Dickhead!" says Jack, giving him a shoulder punch. "I'll just get some bar soap I brought. Better than nothing."
"No no, hold on a minute," says Dad, I bet there's some stowed around here some place." He started rummaging around in the few drawers and cabinets in the rustic old place. "Joe, Steve--you boys run out to the truck and see if any of that stuff I use to wash grease off my hands is in the glove box!"
"Sure Dad," I said, and we took off. There wasn't any. Steve said we should check his Dad's truck too (Uncle Ted's), but no luck.
Dad must have dredged something up, because the crisis seemed to have passed when we returned, with washing sounds coming from the kitchen. Most everyone was in the big living room, and someone had started a fire. Uncle Ted was studying a map of the lake for the best fishing holes; Terry and Uncle Jack had got a card game going.
Pretty soon Dad walks into the room with a funny grin on his face, one hand behind his back.
"Hey Ted-Boy," he says mysteriously, "Lookee what I found."
Dad slowly brought his arm from behind his back--it was a paddle!
You should have seen the look on Uncle Ted's face.
"Is that what I think it is?" he asked, dumbfounded.
"It sure is," said Dad.
"_f_u_c_k_, Rick! Where did you get the Fanny Paddle!?"
"I just found it," he replied. It was wrapped up in some rags in the back of a cabinet. Can you believe it? I thought it got used for firewood years ago. Just look at this thing," Dad said, tickled. He smacked it against his hand with a loud Pop!
It was the traditional tear drop shape, like what you'd get with a paddle-ball game, but bigger, about a foot and a half long and a good half inch thick, with a small circle of holes drilled in the business end.
"I haven't seen THAT thing since I was seventeen," said Uncle Ted. "And I sure as hell remember the encounter!"
"You and me both!" laughed my Dad. "Hey guys, look at this!" holding up the prize with a big wide grin.
"Ok men, line up: who's gonna take a swat?"
"Not on MY ass!" laughed Uncle Jack.
"Hey, what's this?" said Randy and Clay coming in from the kitchen, "Somebody get sent to the Principal's office?"
"This is what our Dad used to spank us with when we were boys," Dad explained. "I can't believe I found it after so many years!"
"It used to be a sort of Baker family tradition," added Uncle Ted. "He got it when he was growing up too, and his Dad, our Granddad and Joe's great grandfather, got paddled with it in his college fraternity. You can still see the date, look there."
Along the top edge on one side you could still read an inscription in the varnished wood: Charlie Baker, 1922.
"So I guess gettin' spanked with that was an honor or something," said Randy.
"Well, we didn't think so," said Uncle Ted.
"Maybe you better keep that thing handy for use on those two boys of yours!" said Terry. They all laughed, and we turned three shades of red. Neither Steve nor I had gotten a spanking since we were little kids, probably because we didn't get into too much trouble.
"I'll just hang it up here over the mantlepiece," Dad said, "where it can be easily retrieved!" He gave us boys a wink. We rolled our eyes.
It wasn't easy getting up at four AM, but it was worth it. Seeing the sun come up over the still mirror of the lake was cool. We sat four to a boat. Good thing we had two, because it was pretty cramped with the tackle box and cooler for the trout and catfish.
Dad and Uncle Jack were at it again, and Steve and I were in the boat with them, with Terry, Randy, Clay and Uncle Ted nearby in the other. Our two experts couldn't agree to disagree about anything, everything was a debate: what was the best spot to start in, how far to cast out, whether trout was better barbecued or pan-fried, etc. Uncle Jack had this special lure he'd made and swore it could beat anything Dad used. Finally Dad just sighed. "Man you are sure full of yourself, Jackie-boy."
"Yeah?" Jack replied, "Well at least I ain't fulla _s_h_i_t_! Why don't we just make this contest more interesting?"
"What, you mean a bet?"
"Yeah! Who can catch the most fish, me with my lure, or you with your precious squid bait."
"Ok by me," said Dad. "Waste your money any way you want. Shall we say $200?"
"How about something a little more fun--and humiliating: loser gets to wash all our trucks--in a dunce cap and pantyhose!"
Steve and I started laughing. "Yeah, that'd be great, Dad!"
"You'd like to see your ol' Dad like that, would ya boys?" he grinned.
"Hey what you guys cookin' up over there?" asked Randy, guiding his boat nearer.
"A little wager," said Dad. "Jack wants to see me washing all the trucks in ladies lingerie and a dunce cap if I don't catch more fish than him!"
"Not bad," said Clay, "except we don't have a proper dunce cap OR the intimate apparel for your lovely behind."
"Hmm. Speaking of which," Terry put in. "...what about that paddle?"
"The paddle? What about it?" asked Dad.
"What do you mean, what about it? One of you two won't be sittin' down for the rest of the trip, that's what about it. Loser pays up with the seat of his pants!"
"_d_a_m_n_, I like that!" Dad answered. "What do you think, Jack?"
"I think you better be careful what you wish for, Rick-buddy," Uncle Jack laughed, "In the Corps we paddle hard!"
"How about twenty swats?"
"Make it thirty," said Jack, "on the bare!"
Steve and I just stared at each other. We couldn't believe our ears.
"You're on, pal!" said Dad, "Thirty pants-down licks in front of the cabin!"
They shook on it. Then they started to fish.
Cousin Steve and I were fishing too of course; but I have to say, we were much more interested in what was going on in the other part of the boat. At first Uncle Jack caught two trout in a row, before Dad even got a bite, and he started to crow about how hard he was gonna swat ass. He was gonna teach Dad a mighty good lesson, he said. But then things started to change. My Dad started reeling them in hand over fist. Maybe the fish were attracted to the fancy lure of my uncle's, but then went for the real bait food on Dad's hook. Whatever the reason--by the time the sun was high Dad had ten fish to Uncle Jack's two. It was nearly noon now, and the rest of the party wanted to go in. There was plenty of work yet to come cleaning the fish, and preparations to make for our big feast. Steve and I were told to make ourselves useful during these chores; if we were going to catch fish, we were gonna have to learn how to clean them, Dad said.
Uncle Jack was kind of flushed in the face as we secured the boats, staring at the ground.
"Well I'm _f_u_c_k_ed," he said. He shook Dad's hand. "Congratulations, Rick. You won fair and square."
"Well, I think you attracted all the fish to the boat with that lure," said Dad.
"All the same."
Not much more was said about it, and spirits began to rise as tables, knives and buckets were arranged for the grislier aspect of fishing. Clay brought fresh water and some aprons to keep the fish guts off. Soon they were happily at work recounting the morning's catch and throwing filets of fresh fish in the buckets. Me and Steve went into the shed to look for some rags, and quickly decided we'd had enough of fish cleaning. "They'll never miss us," I said. "Let's take off and check out that cave!"
"Fine by me," said Steve, and we were outta there. "Screw this crap."
The cave turned out not to be much, but the hike was great and we had fun hanging out and talking about what we going to do next year. Steve was about to graduate and thought he might check out enlisting in the army. I was almost through my first year at our local JC.
We headed back after an hour or so, finding preparations for frying and barbecuing fish in progress. Uncle Ted gave us a funny look as he was tending the coals, but nobody said anything. We helped get the table set; putting out all the stuff our Moms had sent along while Randy and Terry were getting some canned stuff ready on the stove.
We sure had a lot of fish! It was great, and we ate a ton. Everyone agreed the day was a success. My cousin and I cleaned up the kitchen afterwards, trying to make a few points with Dad.
Most of the guys were ready for an afternoon siesta after that. Later on we went swimming, and the lake was cold, but great. Dinner that evening was just sandwiches; nobody was very hungry after the big mid day feed. Dad and his buddies had a couple of beers, though. All through the evening not a word was said about the bet, until it was getting close to sack time, and all men were sitting around the big living room in their long johns or their BVD's, shooting the _s_h_i_t_. After a while it started to get awkward--nobody would say what everybody was thinking.
"Well, I guess we got some business to attend to," Dad said finally, getting to his feet. He went over and got the paddle.
"Yep," Jack said, standing up too, "Might as well get this out of the way."
I felt strangely excited. Was this really gonna happen?
Dad brought a chair and put it in the middle of the room. Uncle Jack took off his shirt, folded it, then pulled down his long johns. Boy, was he built! I guess the Marines kept him in shape. He stood in his briefs there now, red in the face at the prospect of taking them down with everyone watching.
Dad planted himself on the stool, knees apart, as Uncle Jack swallowed his pride and pulled down his shorts. Dad patted his thigh.
"Over you go, bad boy!"
Uncle Jack sure was a sight with his big tool hanging out, about to get spanked. Dad helped him over his knee and got him in position, with his creamy white butt and hairy crack in the air; Jack put his legs a bit apart and clenched his fists. Everyone seated on the sofas and stuffed chairs had a perfect view.
"Well, ol' Jack here's a fine fellow," Dad chuckled, "but he sure does tend to get _c_o_c_k_y!" Terry and Clay started to laugh.
"Now he's lost a bet," said Dad, "and earned himself a paddling!"
Dad raised his arm over his head and brought the oval paddle down hard in the center of Uncle Jack's bare butt with a loud WHAACK!
Jack's upper body bucked upwards. Dad planted his left hand in the middle of Jack's strong back and shoved down.
WHAACK!! WHAAACK!!
"AGHH!! _f_u_c_k_!!!" Jack yelled, his head snapping back.
"Good one, Rick!" said Randy.
"Come on, take your punishment," Dad admonished merrily, "You've got it coming!"
WHAACK! WHAACK!! WHAAACK!!
"OWW! GOD_d_a_m_n_!!" my uncle howled. His eyes were filled with tears.
Dad didn't let up, but kept spanking hard, covering every inch of Jack's buns with paddle swats. He swatted the right cheek, then the left, but paid special attention to the middle, really enjoying himself as he laid on the licks.
"Don't spare the rod!" laughed Terry. "Put a little heat to the seat!"
POP!
"OWW!"
SMAACK!
"OWWW!!"
Dad raised his spanking arm extra high, and we heard the swish of the paddle as he brought it down, expertly snapping his wrist as it met the base of the seat, just above the legs. SMAAACKK!
"YEEOOOWW!"
WHAAACKK!
"_s_h_i_t_!!"
BAMM! BAMM! BAMM!!"
"AAAGGHH!!"
This was amazing! Steve had the biggest grin on his face, and I was enjoying it too, seeing this hairy-chested, buck naked marine punished by my Dad. He was starting to bounce up and down, yelping under the force of the hard, stinging swats.
After the fifteenth lick, Uncle Jack got a breather. Dad put the paddle down. "You doin ok" he asked, whispering in his ear.
"I'm ok," said Jack. "_d_a_m_n_, you paddle hard, Rick!"
"That's pretty much the idea, sport. It'll be over with in a minute."
Jack raised up to reposition himself over Dad's knee, and we saw his long dick, thick and stiff, slide down wedged against the outside of Dad's thigh as he got back into place. Dad picked up the paddle.
BAM! BAM!! BAMM!!
Uncle Jack was starting to grunt now, and by the twentieth swat he was yelling. Only ten more to go. He steeled himself to take the licks, and the guys started to count down to the end.
"Twenty-six!" SMACK!!
"Twenty-seven!" POP!!
"Twenty-eight!"
"Twenty-nine!"
"Watch out, here comes big red number thirty!" warned Dad.
WHAAACKK!!
"AAAGGHHH!! yelled Jack, jumping up and grabbing his ass as he hopped up and down. His fanny was scarlet and covered with dark paddle marks. He quickly gained control of himself, pulling up his undershorts. He shook Dad's hand. "Good job, Rick," he said, panting. "Thanks for the lesson." Then he turned, taking his clothes, and walked stiffly to his room as all the guys gave him a round of applause.
That about wrapped up the evening's festivities. Nobody seemed in a rush to get up though, and I noticed I wasn't the only one with a major hard-on in the long johns! Pretty soon Dad replaced the paddle, and everyone went to bed.
I got up about twenty minutes after I'd turned in, unable to get to sleep, and went to get a drink. On the way to the bathroom I passed Uncle Jack's room; Dad was in there talking to him, and the door was open just a crack. What, you think I didn't stop and listen?
"...sorry about that," Dad was saying, "I know I gave it to you pretty hard."
"Don't worry," said Jack, "it could have been you just as easy on the receiving end. Remember, I asked for it."
"Yeah. How would you have done it if it was me gettin' it?"
"Oh, I'da had you like we do it in the Marines: legs spread, butt out, grabbing your ankles.
"Sounds pretty effective," Dad chuckled. "Keeps those recruits in line?"
"You bet," said Jack.
"Look, if I got a little carried away, I--"
"Hey! I had every lick coming. I've been a real asshole the last couple of days--troubles at home--just hope I haven't messed up our being friends."
"Not a chance, pal," said Dad. There was some silence at this point.
"Now," Dad said, "about those boys..."
_s_h_i_t_! I hightailed it out of there fast, as quietly as I could. I climbed back into the bunk over Steve and got to sleep.
[Part two of Uncle Jack to follow...]