The kid and I got up the next morning, did our bathroom thing and then went downstairs. Yes, we were nude again just because it feels good, not because our clothing was down in the living room. Dad seemed a bit preoccupied but served us a great breakfast. I had a feeling that I knew what was going on, he was already mentally checking his materials list for the spanking horse.
We had taken care of both of the trees that Dad wanted for firewood so we had this day pretty much to ourselves and were trying to figure out what we wanted to do. Dad abruptly turned to me and tossed me a key ring.
"Do you remember the fishing camp that I used to rent?" he asked. At my nod he continued "Well, I bought it. Why don't you take the kid up to see one of your childhood haunts?"
"Dad," I said, "why didn't you ever tell me that you bought the camp?"
"I thought it would make a nice surprize in my will," he retorted sharply, "actually I wasn't sure that you would ever be interested in taking a week off just to go fishing again." He told me to take the Land Rover because it was quite a walk into the camp and the road hadn't gotten any better over the years. "I like it that way," he said, "keeps it nice and private." The old man actually winked at me when he said that.
"How about you, Dad," I said, "what are you up to today?"
"Humph," he said, "I have things to do, you can't expect me to spend the entire long weekend just fooling around with you kids. You two can play together nicely today."
We got dressed and I made sure to stock up on supplies, be prepared and all that, and went out to the old carriage house that was used as the garage. It could hold five cars but at the moment is just held the two Jags, Dad's and mine, and his treasured fifties vintage Land Rover.
Dad does have a thing for British machinery, especially strange stuff. He has had this Land Rover since I was a kid and believe it or not this would be the first time I drove it. Dad used to have an old Jeep that I could play with but the Rover was his and his alone.
This was one of the classic Land Rovers, ugly as an old goat and just about as nimble and sure footed. Problem is the thing rides about like riding on an old goat too. I used to love it when a kid though I can remember even back then that it bounced so bad over ruts and rocks that we used to have to stop often for a pee break just because it would whack your kidneys so much. It used to be a giggle thing when I was a kid, Dad and I standing side by side at the edge of the road solemnly watering the weeds, making a 'pit stop' as he would say. Needless to say, Mom never rode in it. I wouldn't tell the kid about its urination inducing trick, he'll find out quickly enough.
The fishing camp isn't far as the crow flies, maybe ten miles from the house, but it is eons in the past as far as creature comforts go. It is about three miles off of the nearest public road, which is dirt as well and as Dad said it is very, very private being at the end of a dead end road. When I got to the road end of the trail to the camp I saw a new gate. I guess that Dad decided to keep things really private. Sure enough, there was a key to the padlock on the ring that Dad had tossed me and the kid got out of the Land Rover and opened the lock and swung the gate wide. I drove through and told the kid to close the gate and relock it which he did and then climbed back in.
About half way to the camp there is a turnout and that is the traditional place for a pit stop so I pulled the car over and stopped it.
"Where is the camp?" asked the kid.
"It's still a bit up the road," I answered, "right now I gotta pee big time." I climbed out of the car and walked to the edge of the road where I was joined by the kid and we unzipped and drained for a while. I told him the story about how everyone stopped here to pee before making the rest of the trip and my recollections of doing it from the time I was maybe five years old or so. He thought it was pretty cool. A shake off, a zip up and back in the car we got for the remainder of the trip. This part was the tough part, it climbed over some pretty good ledges and the Rover proved its heritage at off road work.
The camp came into view and I went back in time quite a few years, I guess I was maybe nineteen the last time I saw the place. There is a long history behind the building and land around it and the big pond as well.
The camp building was originally the office building for the grist mill that used to be on the stream running through the property. A large pond was behind a tall dam which provided the power for the mill back in its time and all was still in great shape with the water still flowing over the millrace just like it did about a century ago. The mill burnt down years before and went right to the ground because there is no way to get a fire truck up here leaving just the office building.
The office building was one big room with a loft overhead about half of it. It was converted years ago to a fishing camp because the impoundment of the stream behind the dam, native brook trout abounded in the pond and stream. Made of stone and wood, the camp building was still standing square and neat as always. I stopped the Land Rover in the clearing in front of the building and both of us got out of it and went over to the building and I unlocked the front door and opened it wide.
Furnishings were simple, three bunk beds along the wall and a massive wood burning cook stove for both heat and cooking and a big picnic style table in the center of the room for eating and the card games that went on when the weather was too bad to fish. In the loft above, reached by a ladder attached to the edge of the upper floor, was more room for sleeping on cut down cots. On a good weekend there would be up to a dozen men and boys staying at the place.
The place was crude to say the least, no electricity or any kind of power, lighting was by kerosene lamps and water was taken by the bucket from the stream above the dam, it had been tested and was as pure as any water can be. Needless to say, the bathroom facilities were as primitive, out the back door and about fifty yards up a path was a three hole privy. I had both fond memories and unpleasant memories about that little building. I had to see if that privy was still around.
The kid was looking all around the place as I went over and unlocked the back door and stepped outside.
"Where you going?" asked the kid.
"I got to see if the bathroom is still in existence," I said and headed up the trail followed by the kid. Sure enough, it was standing four square and solid. It seemed to have a new roof on it and a padlock on the door and I found yet another key fit that one so I opened it up and swung the door inward.
There was a little mystique about the door on the privy, you never closed it when you used it for the purpose it was designed for, the door was closed for one reason and one reason only. You see, the privy was not only the place to answer calls of nature, it was also the place that the fathers would provide some guidance and lessons to wayward boys. Yup, this was where we boys used to get spanked. If you saw the door closed you knew that pretty soon the sounds of hand or paddle smiting boy hide and the resulting other sounds that smiting caused to happen would soon be wafting across the clearing around the privy. I'll have to admit that my voice had been heard in that clearing fairly often on fishing trips.
I don't know why the fathers would take a naughty son out into the privy for a spanking, everyone knew exactly what was going on from the sounds emitting from it, maybe they felt that there should be some privacy during this father and son time. Somehow it always seemed that every boy that was at the camp would take at least one walk with their father out back, sometimes more than one depending on the length of stay. All I know is that only once I didn't get spanked in the privy, that was a spur of the moment hand tanning out near the brook when I fell in when I was told not to go near the brook but did anyhow. It was March and I was shivering with cold from my immersion but part of me didn't stay cold very long, Dad saw to that! I ended up walking back to the camp wearing just goosebumps and a red ass after that session, Dad carrying my wet clothing behind. That was one time that I didn't have a stiffie after a spanking, I was so cold except for my behind that you had to look twice to guess my gender.
The kid, having been raised in the city, had never seen an outhouse before and couldn't get over the idea of up to three people using it at once. "It sure doesn't provide for much privacy, does it?" he asked.
"About as much as a typical military barracks," I answered, "I guess that boys have always been expected to poop in company." I laughed then. "We boys used to do more than just poop in here," I said, "it is a lot of fun to have three boys side by side jerking off in here. Thank goodness we never got caught at it, I'm sure that one of the men would have taken advantage of our state of dress to express disapproval of the idea."
Neither one of us needed to use the privy but of course had to try it out so we dropped trou and sat on adjoining holes. We reached over and took each other in hand and played with each other for a while, not to actually cum, just for fun. It is fun to be doing that almost out in the open, the door still being wide open.
I told the kid about how we never closed the door and then, just for the fun of it, reached out with my foot and swung the door shut. It was still pretty light inside of the building for there were screened windows all along the eaves and you could clearly see the old paddle still hanging on the back of the door, right where it had always been hanging just waiting to be taken down for some instruction. Some wag throughout the years had brought one of those signs that are hung above fire extinguishers, the big red and white ones that say FIRE on them with an arrow. The sign was thumbtacked above the paddle with the arrow pointed at it and the word 'maker' penciled in on the sign below the word fire. All the men thought that was a cute touch.
The kid spotted the paddle, I mean the sign is still there and pretty hard to miss, so I had to explain how the privy was used when we boys got spanked for being naughty. The kid was quiet for a bit and then said, "I think I've been bad, really, really bad."
I got up from my seat and pulled my pants up and zipped my fly and took the paddle down from the hook on the back of the door. I sat back down and guided the kid up off of his seat and over my knees just like Dad had done to me in the past. His feet were touching the floor and his belly was on my lap and most of his chest on the seat shelf. I looked down on his white rump sticking up over my knees and patted it for a while, lecturing him for his misdeeds. I picked up the paddle from the seat beside me and raised it up and brought it smacking down on his ass.
It wasn't really a hard spanking, more for fun than anything, though I did make it last a long time and did make sure that his entire bum was nice and rosy when I was done. A paddle is a very versatile tool when it comes to spanking a boy, depending on how hard you hit with it you can either just make his hide sting or go even deeper if a lesson needs to be learned badly, you can indeed bruise the dickens out of a boy's ass with a paddle if you want to. I was spanking the kid to make his behind sting. It did make him squirm more than a little bit though and I even got a yelp or two from him when I'd smack a tender spot. The kid was playing his part to the hilt, begging for the spanking to stop and promising to be good in the future while I made up all kinds of awful things that he had done to deserve the spanking. As I have said, I don't like giving spankings that much but can if I want to and figured that I'd soon be in this same position over the kid's knees.
I had him stand up and took a grip on the stiff pole that he had sticking out of his body and stroked it just a bit while I told him that I hoped that he learned something from this experience. Of course then it was my turn to be spanked so what we did was leave the privy after the kid pulled his britches back up and rehung the paddle on its hook.
We entered the privy again, the kid scolding me like a father might all the time and he closed the door and took the paddle down from its hook again. He sat on the middle seat and placed the paddle on the seat beside him and reached up and undid my fly and lowered my pants to my ankles and followed them with my briefs and then pulled me down over his knees. I was once again looking at the wooden plank that formed the seating in the privy, I hadn't done this for years! I knew all the grain of the wood and every knot in that plank, I had plenty of time to study it in the past. The first time that I studied these grain patterns I can remember that my feet didn't touch the floor like they did now.
The kid was playing the father game to the nth, lecturing me on my sins and rubbing and patting my bare bum. He took a few more liberties with my bottom, inspecting the central part of my crack and its button as well before taking up the paddle.
It was great! A turn on spanking at its very best, hot enough to make it known that I had been spanked but not enough to cry about and it left me drooling from my willie like mad and horny as all get out. Finally when my rear end was all stinging nicely he let me get up and then hung the paddle back up and opened the door. Dropping his pants he sat back down and pulled me down beside him and took me firmly in hand and I lost no time in returning the favor. This was just like when I was a kid and it felt wonderful, just two boys having a private moment. We spewed almost together and came all over the floor of that old privy, that had been done so often in the past that I'm surprized that the floor isn't white!
I can actually recall a time that I was sitting here with a flaming fanny while another guy jerked me off. I was doing the same to him although he hadn't been spanked but had actually shown up after I had gotten one to try to make me feel better. I can remember not really wanting to do much in the way of sitting down right then and there but what he did to the front of me took my mind off of any problems I might be having on the back of me for a little while anyhow. Works pretty well, cumming would make a great anesthetic except it doesn't last long enough to be practical in any way.
Before we had left the house I had folded up a bunch of paper towels and stuffed them into my pocket and now I took one out to wipe up the cum spots from our clothing and willies, ever notice just how horribly cold a cum spot feels? It's amazing how something that shoots out so hot can turn cold so rapidly.
The kid and I pulled up our clothing and hiked around the place. I showed him the old water gate that used to control the flow of water to the mill wheel and noticed that the mechanism was all freshly greased and the wheel padlocked in place to prevent movement, yes, I did have a key for that padlock as well. The water gate had never been moved in my memory and most likely never would again but it was just Dad's way to keep a piece of machinery in working order if possible. He subscribes to the 'never can tell' school of doing things. Never can tell if you might want to move this darn thing.
There is a place under the millrace where the water poured through a crack that we used to use as a shower for of course there wasn't any tub or shower in the house, heck, running water meant going fast with the pail. We used to use a special soap that wouldn't hurt any of the fish and used to shower in the nude although it was right out in the open and could be easily seen from the porch of the building. Well, actually, we used to swim in the nude as well but somehow taking a shower that way seemed somehow embarrassing whereas swimming didn't. About six guys could get washed up at the same time under that spillway and most of the time there were always at least a couple guys sharing the soap.
It was there that I saw first 'grown-up' willie and crotch that I had ever seen in my life. I was about seven at the time and my best friend was at the camp with me, it was our first trip to the camp, and when it came time for us to take a shower one of the older boys was told off to go with us to make sure we didn't get in trouble and got clean. I would guess this older kid was about 18 or 19 or so, an adult to us for sure.
We had all scooted down there wearing our underpants and carrying a towel and once we got to the ledge near the shower area we all took off our underwear. The first look I got at this older boy was his bottom which looked pretty much like the bottom of any of my friends only bigger and seemed to have something dark sticking out of the middle of his crack, when he bent over I saw it was dark hair but then he turned around.
The first thing that I saw was all the hair all over him in the strangest place, why would a guy grow hair there, how could you pee, but then I saw how he could pee! At first I couldn't believe it was a willie, it looked about the size of my arm and was pointing straight out from his body about a foot, I'd swear but as I stared at it I could see that it and everything else in the area looked pretty much like what I had only all hairy and much, much bigger. I could feel my own tiny little willie snap to attention like I had to pee really bad.
The older kid saw me staring at his equipment and said, "Don't worry, kid, you'll grow up pretty quick."
Now I was still pretty innocent and knew of only one reason why a guy's willie would get all stiff and asked the guy "Do you have to pee?" I wanted to see that thing in action!
The older boy laughed and said, "No, not right now. I just tend to get hard when I take a shower though I'm not going to do anything about it here, not out in the open like this." We all got nice and clean under the cool water from the millrace and I couldn't take my gaze off of the older guy's crotch which was about eye level on me at that time and stayed stiff and straight all through the shower. I followed that guy into the shower and even the privy any chance I got and he was pretty good natured about it. I was a bit disappointed to find out that the massive willie of his didn't shoot out pee any better than mine did.
I did find out that even as impressive as this guy was down below he was still a kid at heart for one day I saw his dad take him for a walk out to the privy and it wasn't to go potty! I had been a bit bratty already and Dad had introduced me to the secondary use of the old building. The door shut firmly and soon the sounds of wood smacking bare skin and the howls of the owner of the skin wafted across the clearing for a long, long time. I have no idea what he did but that spanking lasted about a quarter of an hour and he wailed and cried all the time it was going on. The sound of the paddle smacking his butt sounded about the same as when any of us kids get spanked but his crying was deeper in tone as was his talking voice. Later on that day I saw him in the shower with a soft willie for the first time and it was a lot smaller that way than when hard and when I saw his bum-bum by golly it was just as red and nasty looking as mine ever was when I got spanked. Maybe it looked a bit worse for when he bent over to pick up the soap I saw that the very bottom of his bum down near his legs looked like it was all raw and blistered. My bummy had never looked that bad!
"I'm sorry you got spanked," I said in a small voice.
"Not as sorry as I am," replied the older guy with a weak smile, "Dad can still make my butt feel like it's getting burnt off. Have you ever been spanked with the paddle?"
"No," I said, "Daddy spanks me with his hand but he does it on my bare bummy. It hurts lots and makes me cry and cry."
"All guys get it on the bare ass," scoffed the older guy, "wait until you feel a paddle smacking you back there, you won't believe how that hurts!"
I will have to say that I doubted his veracity for I knew for a fact that there was nothing in the whole world that hurt more than my dad's hand when he was spanking me but at the same time I was a bit worried about the idea of getting paddled, if it could make a big guy like this one cry it must hurt pretty badly. It would be a few years but I did find out that he was telling the truth.
I told the kid about this experience and he thought it was pretty funny. "Anyone should realize that wood is much harder than anyone's hand," he said, "it only makes sense that it would have to hurt more."
"When I was little Dad's hand sure hurt enough," I said, "I guess that I simply could not imagine that anything could make my bottom sting more than his hand."
The kid was quizzing me about how it felt to take a shower underneath the millrace, right out there in the open and in view of anyone at the camp building.
"You need to remember that we used to swim in the nude all the time," I said, "so taking a shower to get clean wasn't all that much different just there was soap involved. Everyone did get cleaned up here at some time during the trip but I can remember how cold the water always seemed compared to the temperature when you just went swimming. About the only thing I didn't do that I would do in the shower at home is whack off. Somehow I just knew that was unacceptable behavior and most likely would have ended up with a spanking on my nice, clean bottom."
The kid thought that was a really interesting idea and wanted to try it out. I tried to talk him out of it but he wanted in the worst way to take a shower under the water from the pond. Finally I agreed even though I knew how cold it would be.
We went back to the building and I lit a small fire in the old stove knowing that we would need it afterwards. I found the towels and the bar of soap and we stripped to our underpants just like in the old days and walked across the top of the dam along the catwalk and down to the cement under the millrace. We doffed our underwear, leaving them on a rock near the side and stood there naked fully armed with soap and boners. I handed the kid the soap.
He ducked under the water and yelled as it hit his body but stood underneath the cold stream until he was totally wet before stepping back to soap up. I ducked under gritting my teeth in anticipation of the shock from the cold water and was not disappointed in the least, it was still as cold as ever. As I took the soap from the kid I suddenly remembered another reason that I never jerked off when taking a shower here, the cold water had worked its usual magic and about all I was showing was a nice batch of hair between my legs. In sheer self defense my boy parts had retreated as far as they could. The kid was in a similar state.
After soaping up we ducked under the water to rinse off and then simply fled back to the building without even bothering to get dressed or even dried off. We stood shivering around the stove toweling off.
"Well," I said with a laugh, pointing at the kid's crotch, "you sure look like my little brother now!"
"You're not so big yourself, buddy," said the kid with chattering teeth, "why didn't you tell me the water was so darn cold! I think that everything has hidden for good!"
"I've got a way to get you warm," I said, "and I bet that everything comes back into view in short order." I got a chair and put it in front of the stove and took the kid across my knees and warmed the area that looked like it needed it the most. His cold body across my equally cold knees felt really strange. As I spanked him I could feel him coming to life again, in one area anyway.
Getting spanked on a cold behind smarts pretty good, even if it is just with your hand and even my hand was stinging before I got his bottom spanked nice and rosy. When I let him up sure enough he was a boy again and proving it rather well. Looking down at my lap I could see that I was well on the way to male hood again as well. I got up from the chair and let the kid sit down so he could warm me up.
He gave me a pretty warm spanking as well, even pushing my leg forward to insure that I was totally spanked. He did spoil the punishment idea of a spanking quite a bit by wetting his finger and inserting it into the available opening while continuing to spank me with the other hand. I almost came right then and there.
For some reason it just felt right to jerk each other off after we warmed each other up instead of going all the way and warming up our willies as well and we took a long, long time before we let each other cum. Afterwards we just sat around for a while until the stove went cold and then got dressed for the ride home. We locked up the place, making sure everything was back in its place and the cum spots mopped up from the floor and headed out to the old Land Rover.
"I used to dread having to ride home in this thing after a spanking," I said to the kid, "it was almost like getting another spanking!"
"The only problem is," said the kid, "is everyone knows that you don't get a spanking with your pants on." That did it, we both stripped our clothing off below the waist for the trip back to the rest stop. Of course we had to insure that our bums were primed for the trip by leaning over the seat in the Land Rover and getting spanked for a while so it was with hot behinds we climbed onto the leather seats for the ride.
Your clothing slides around on a leather seat pretty well, bare skin does not so our bums were indeed pretty sore by the time we hit the turnout for the rest area. It burned like we had gotten another spanking though the sharp sting wasn't there. Of course we had to take a leak while there and before we got dressed but had to take care of a stiffness problem before we could do that function, a problem we took care of for each other. It was two pretty sore bottomed and finally drained boys that made the rest of the trip back to the house.