Several loud knocks on the front door interrupted Brad's concentration on his course work. As he got up to find out who was pounding so hard on the door, Brad wondered why the idiot couldn't ring the doorbell like a normal visitor.
Brad opened the door and saw that the idiot was his upstairs neighbor Jack , the son of the people who owned the small apartment building near campus where Brad had been living for a couple years. Brad didn't know Jack very well, and had decided he didn't want to know him better, as he was not turning out to be that great a neighbor. But he was the Pettygrew's son, so Brad felt he couldn't really complain until things got unbearable.
Brad looked up at Jack's face, which was a little flushed. It was clear that Jack had been enjoying a beer or two. In fact, he was holding a can in his left hand while his right hand was raised and clenched into a fist for knocking.
"Yeah? What can I do for you?" Brad asked, wondering what Jack wanted. Up close, Jack was a little intimidating, even though he was a few years younger than Brad. Jack was well over six feet tall, and clearly worked out or worked at a job that was physically demanding. He had dark, close-cropped hair and clear blue eyes set off by dark eyebrows and dark lashes. Brad remembered thinking that he was a bit of hunk when he first saw him, but he had also remembered Jack's mom talking about her son and telling Brad, almost apologetically, that Jack would be moving into the upstairs apartment, as he was eager to be on his own. She had also mentioned that she and her husband appreciated Brad as a tenant very much and that he should let them know if Jack was any trouble. She said something about Jack taking some classes at the local community college to see if he could find something better to do than move furniture, and that she hoped he would drop some of his friends, who she felt were a bad influence on him. Brad remembered groaning inwardly at the news, though he hadn't indicated his dismay to Mrs. Pettygrew.
"I want to talk to you, you little snitch," Jack said in a belligerent tone, pushing past Brad into the living room. Brad felt a little tremor in his stomach, and he wondered how he was going to deal with this big lug if he was drunk and angry. Jack didn't reek of beer, however, and he wasn't unsteady on his feet. Brad couldn't imagine what Jack wanted with him. Brad closed the door, resigned to an unpleasant scene of some kind.
"I don't know what you mean," Brad said, honestly curious as well as a little anxious. "Why did you call me a snitch?"
"I called you a snitch because you are one, you little smart-ass!" Jack replied. "I just got yelled at by my folks because my friends and I had a little fun last night. So we tossed some beer cans at the dumpster and missed a couple time-big deal!" Jack took a drink from his beer and glared at Brad.
"Listen, I didn't call your folks, Jack," Brad said, calmly, or at least trying to sound calm. "You were kind of noisy, but I figured I'd give you another chance at least. It must have been someone else."
"Oh, right. Someone else!" Jack said. "Who else would care? You're the little perfect-ass renter that I'm not supposed to piss off!" Jack took a couple of swallows from the can of beer as he paced back and forth a bit in the area between the living room and the small dining area, glancing around as if making a cursory inspection. "Jesus, everything is so neat and clean. You'd think my mom lived here instead of you. No wonder she thinks your _s_h_i_t_ don't stink."
Suddenly, he looked straight at Brad, his piercing blue eyes causing Brad's stomach to quiver again. "But I've figured out how to teach you a little lesson," Jack said, smirking and taking another swallow of beer.
As he finished speaking, Jack walked up to Brad, who stepped back slightly. But Jack bent down and forward, shoved his shoulder into Brad's middle and stood up, grasping Brad's legs with right arm and hoisting the startled, smaller lad over his shoulder.
"What . . . hey!" Brad shouted as he suddenly found himself hanging down across Jack's broad back and staring down at carpet. He felt Jack shift him slightly, settling Brad across his shoulder. Brad tried to grab the back of the sofa for purchase, but Jack was already turning around and heading down the hall that lead toward the bathroom and Brad's bedroom.
"Where are you going? What are you doing? Stop!" Brad cried, as Jack skillfully maneuvered down the hall, bending slightly to get through the bedroom door. Jack placed the can of beer on the edge of a dresser that stood near the bed, and then used both hands to lift Brad off his shoulder. Jack sat down on the bed and flipped Brad over so he was lying face down on the bed and across Jack's lap.
"I'm going to spank your butt, you little sneak," Jack laughed, "I know you won't go running to Mom whining that I took you over my knee and paddled you!" Jack captured Brad's flailing legs by pinning them with his right leg, and he grabbed Brad's right hand as Brad brought it around to protect his butt and forced it up toward Brad's shoulder blades. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Jack started slapping Brad's ass fast and hard.
"No! No! Stop!" Brad yelled, humiliated and stunned. How had it happened that he was suddenly in the position of a little boy getting spanked? And Jack was younger, which made it even worse. It was embarrassing to be overpowered so easily. Brad was in good shape; he played tennis and had an exercise routine, so he wasn't a weakling. But he was no match for Jack, who had several inches and quite a few pounds on him. Brad had a lithe build and was only about five foot seven. And all five foot seven of him was at Jack's mercy. Jack's powerful spanks were heating up Brad's bottom, though the faded blue jeans Brad was wearing provided some protection.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Jack continued to swat Brad's butt with strong, relentless spanks. His big hand covered a good portion of the smaller man's bottom, so Jack didn't have to shift his hand around very much to quickly warm up Brad's ass.
"This ought to teach you to go running to my folks," Jack said, resting his hand for a moment on Brad's bottom, briefly rubbing his victim's warm buttocks. Then he resumed the spanking, ignoring Brad's protestations and pleas to stop.
"It wasn't me, dammit!" Brad cried, trying to shift out of the way of the vigorous smacks of Jack's hand. But Brad was held too securely-all he managed to do was hump his butt up and down a bit, which actually raised it to better receive the spanks Jack was delivering with merciless regularity. To his further horror, Brad felt his _c_o_c_k_ stiffening and pressing through his jeans against Jack's thigh. How could his body be betraying him like this? Brad was feeling the sting even through the sturdy denim fabric of his jeans as the spanking continued unabated. " I swear, Jack, it wasn't me. Please, don't . . .please."
Brad turned his head to try and make eye contact with Jack, hoping that it would help convince Jack that he was telling the truth. But Jack just grinned at him, enjoying the sight of Brad's flushed face and his winces and gasps as Jack continued the spanking. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"I think I need to spank bare ass to make sure you learn your lesson, Mr. Bradley the Perfect Renter. Don't you agree?" WHAP! WHAP! Jack landed two powerful spanks and then stopped, his hand resting again on Brad's well-spanked and stinging bottom.
"NO! You can't, please!" Brad was frantic. This would be the ultimate humiliation. Particularly since Brad was now rock hard, and if Jack hadn't yet noticed Brad's boner, even though it was digging into Jack's thigh, there would be no mistaking that Brad was turned on despite his pleas for Jack to stop. "I'm older than you-you can't do this to me. It's not right."
"I can't, huh!" Jack replied, quickly lifting Brad up, pushing him further onto the bed, and flipping him back over so Brad was face up. At the same time, Jack swung around and knelt on the bed, imprisoning Brad between his legs and giving him access to Brad's fly. "So, you going to call my Mom and tell her I took your pants down and spanked your bare little butt?"
"You son of a bitch," Brad said, nearly crying from frustration and embarrassment. Jack had already unfastened the snap to Brad's jeans and had started unzipping Brad's fly.
"Hey, watch that language!" Jack said, laughing. "You shouldn't say stuff like that since you're so _f_u_c_k_ing perfect. But I know how to stop it." Jack's butt had been just inches from Brad's face, and now he sat back so Brad's mouth and nose were pressed against Jack's ass. Brad could hardly breathe and his nostrils were filled with the smell of warm denim, mixed with a headier aroma unique to Jack. Brad tried to protest, but his lips just moved against the seam of Jack's jeans, and he could feel Jack's ball sac pressing against his chin through the denim fabric.
"I knew you were a kiss-ass, Brad, but I didn't know you wanted to kiss mine," Jack said, rocking forward and back a bit on Brad's face. "Glad to know you like it."
This had the effect of further arousing Brad just as Jack unzipped Brad's fly completely, his hands brushing Brad's erect _c_o_c_k_ as he prepared to lower Brad's jeans.
"Whoa," Jack said, as he leaned forward a bit, allowing Brad to breathe more freely and sliding Brad's jeans down over his hips, exposing the pinned lad's raging hard-on, which was poking through the opening in the front of Brad's white cotton briefs and was already glistening with pre-come. " I guess you aren't finding this much of a punishment, are you, Brad boy? You gay or something?"
"Yes, I am. I mean, no, I'm not. Not gay, that is. Yes, it hurts." Brad said, mortified and nearly incoherent. "Please stop, please. And I'm not gay." Brad felt he had to lie; he didn't know what could happen if Jack learned he was gay. As the landlord's son, Jack might make Brad's life really unpleasant.
"Right. You're not gay, but your pecker swells up like a stallion when a guy takes your pants down and sits on your face." As he spoke, Jack shucked Brad's briefs down over his hips, briefly pushing Brad's throbbing _c_o_c_k_ down until it was freed from the briefs and sprang back up, proudly erect and leaking against Brad's stomach. Brad gasped at the momentary discomfort and then the aching release. "Now for some serious spanking," Jack said, a grim promise in his tone.
Somehow, Brad had lost the will to resist; he was too embarrassed and ashamed. He didn't even try to fight as Jack got up on his knees, pulled Brad out from underneath him, and then turned Brad back over his lap as Jack situated himself again in a sitting position at the edge of the bed. Brad's jeans and briefs were wadded up around his knees, and Jack pushed Brad's tee-shirt up to his armpits. Brad's swollen _c_o_c_k_ was pressed against Jack's warm crotch, encountering what seemed to be an answering bulge. Amid the confusing welter of thoughts and sensations Brad was suffering came the realization came that Jack might be getting a charge out of this.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Jack's hand came down powerfully and suddenly on Brad's naked buttocks, quickly turning the mildly flushed skin a deeper red.
"Jesus!" Brad yelled, now aware of what a real bare-ass spanking could feel like, the stinging heat on his pummeled bottom growing with each smack. "_f_u_c_k_! I didn't rat on you, Jack, I swear," Brad said, gasping the words out between spanks. "Please, man. Listen to me! _f_u_c_k_! _f_u_c_k_! _f_u_c_k_!"
Unfortunately, the pain flooding his buttocks seemed to have no effect on his _c_o_c_k_, which remained iron-hard and exquisitely sensitive to the slight rubbing back and forth against Jack's crotch caused by the forceful spanks Jack was landing on Brad's battered ass cheeks. SMACK! SMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! Brad jerked and moaned with each mighty slap of Jack's hand, his eyes screwed shut and his hands grasping and clenching the wadded-up bedspread.
"Boy, you are one tough nut to crack," Jack said, stopping for a blessed moment. "Let's see if this will help you tell the truth," he said, reaching up and grabbing the can of beer he had placed on the dresser earlier. Brad had no idea what Jack was doing until suddenly he smelled beer and felt the liquid touch his sizzling ass.
"Yow!" Brad cried, not able to tell if it hurt or helped, his buttocks were so hot and tender. But then he felt the cool liquid run down into his crack and over his anus, causing him to gasp with pleasure and thrust against Jack's crotch. What a mess this was making of his bed--and the carpet would reek of beer.
SMACK! Jack's hand came down quickly on Brad's wet ass cheeks, igniting a blazing fire in one stroke. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"Okay! Okay! I did it! I'm sorry! I'll never do it again!" Brad yelled, as the stinging, merciless spanks continued. Brad wondered if he would ever be able to sit again, and he was afraid at the same time that he was going to come all over Jack, and he couldn't bear to humiliate himself to that degree. "Stop! Please!"
"That's better, you little fag," Jack said, landing one final spank on Brad's cherry red and glistening bottom. "Now you'll think twice before whining to my folks, won't you?"
"Yes, yes," gasped Brad, so grateful that the spanking was over that tears came to his eyes. His primary concern was not shooting his wad, however, for he couldn't remember a time when he'd had such a throbbing erection that he hadn't allowed release. He pushed himself up off of the bed and Jack's lap, his boner sticking out, a thread of pre-come stretching from the tip to a huge wet spot on Jack's crotch. Brad blushed furiously as he stood, pulling his briefs and his jeans up as quickly as he could. He gasped as the material rubbed against his stinging ass. He zipped his jeans up just far enough so they wouldn't fall off, but he couldn't bring himself to fasten them completely as they would rub painfully against his poor battered bottom.
"Jesus!" Jack said, standing up as well, and looking down at the moist area on his jeans. "I'll bring a towel the next time." He actually grinned down at Brad and clapped him on the shoulder. "Maybe I won't have to do this again if you stay cool about stuff, huh?"
Brad couldn't think of anything to say. His stomach had given a lurch when Jack had mentioned bringing a towel the next time, but he couldn't tell if it was dismay or anticipation, which further embarrassed him. He followed Jack out of the bedroom, which smelled strongly of beer and male exertion and a bit of Jack's aftershave.
"See you around, Brad," Jack said, still grinning at Brad's obvious discomfiture. He opened the door and then turned back for a minute, and said, "You can have my beer can. You could turn it in for the deposit." Then he laughed, stepped outside and closed the door behind him. In a minute Brad heard his tread on the outside stairs leading to the upstairs apartment. Brad locked the door and leaned against it, feeling weak; his bottom aching and tender. He dropped his jeans and pulled his briefs down and tenderly touched his buttocks, wincing at the painfully sensitive skin. But his penis stiffened again at his touch and as he remembered the spanking he had just received he got harder and harder. Soon he was back on his bed and, in a few strokes, erupted in a climax that shook him from head to toe.
But what was going to happen when whoever had complained about Jack to his parents did it again?