Todd clears away his toys and Daddy notices Dave's eyes fixed on the bending boys bottom.
Uncle Dave wondered if spanking Todd would be like spanking his own eleven year old son. When would the pert little bottom start to pinken, when would tears begin to fall, how loudly would the boy's ows and ouches become as the spanks continued. He spanked Sam, his own son with the stick he had bought for the purpose years before. Over the years he had persuaded his wife that when the boy was seven he could expect a whacking when he needed it. Dave usually administered the whackings on Saturdays when his wife was at the stores. Dave secretly enjoyed these whacking sessions but was always careful not to overdo things but he made quite a ceremony out of them. After the boy had been told his offenses his son had to undress down to his underwear and he was to assune the position on the chair opposite the sofa on which Dave would sit watching his son, legs apart on the front of the cushion, head down on the back of the cushion, bottom sticking upwards. The boy's bottom was at the perfect position for what would follow. Dave would then stand behind him and very slowly lift the edge of his briefs before slowly pulling them down, relishing the sight of his lower back, watching the blue veins coursing under the tight young skin and savour the two small pale and unblemished orbes. Through his legs Sam could see his father looking at him from the sofa where he would sit looking at his young sons bare bottom, flexing the thin stick he called his 'cane'. When he was younger Sam would stay in position in fear but now, after four years practise, he had come to accept the inevitable and although the whackings from his father hurt like hell at least they were usually over quickly.
Dave would sit watching his son's smooth round bottom, teling the boy that this was his 'thinking time'. After a while three cracking whacks would be given and the young boy would screech with pain after each stroke. By the third stroke the boy's bottom appeared to quiver and Dave would then return to the sofa and watch the three red lines crossing his son's bottom until he had decided to cover the marks by pulling the boys underwear up over the now sensitive bottom.
Dave had only been taking Todd to the pool for a few months, Saturday afternoons. Both the boys usually changed together and he changed in a seperate cubicle. Tomorrow they would use a 'family' compartment and he would get a chance to see the little backside so enticingly flexing as the boy bent to collect his toys.
As it happened Todd was a perfect little wine waiter. Not a drop of wine was spliied. At 9.00 pm Daddy told his son to go to his room and change for bed. As Todd returned to the tv room his father made the usual inspection trip to the boy's bedroom. All the boys clothes were neatly folded as required. He picked up his son's small white briefs for inspection and finding them quite clean, returned to his guest. On his way down the stairs he decided that before his son went swimming the next day a spelling test would be in order.
Todd came and kissed his Daddy goodnight when told to. If he had been aware of his father's plans for the next day Todd would not have gone to bed such a happy little boy, proud to have helped his Daddy 'entertain' their guest.