My Cousin Sam Parts 1 and 2


by Jay <Jaybro26@yahoo.co.uk>

My Cousin Sam - Parts 1 (revised) and 2

It was just two months before I turned seventeen that my mom died. She'd been ill for a couple of years by then and she hardly knew me by the last week. She'd said a few months earlier that when she went my Uncle Will would be expecting me in Montana. In fact she tried to make me go then, but I wasn't about to leave her on her own: I don't even remember my Dad and we didn't have any relatives around us in Vermont. In fact we didn't have any relatives at all apart from my dad's brother Will and his son Sam.

I'd met them once before - when I was fourteen and Mom reckoned I could handle the journey by myself I'd caught the bus to Montana and spent the summer on Will's farm - best time I ever had by about a million miles. Uncle Will made a big fuss of me - treated me like I was pretty special even though he hadn't seen me since I was a baby. And Sam............

Sam and me looked like brothers - Will and Sam said so and I guess I could see it a bit myself, although Sam's a year older than me and an inch or so taller. And he's got this amazing grin - pretty much all the time - and a real twinkling expression in his eyes, whereas I tend to be on the serious side, and he's got this shaggy blond mop whereas I keep mine shortish. Anyways by the time I'd been there a week it felt like he was my oldest friend - we got on better than any two brothers I knew. He really looked after me - taking me everywhere with him, introducing me to his friends, told me all about his life and seemed to want to know about mine. He was aiming to stop school as soon as he could and work the farm with his Dad - Uncle Will - and he already had a steep list of chores about the place. I helped out too some of the time, but Will gave us a lot of time to just hang out and have fun. When September arrived I was dreading going home - don't get me wrong: I loved my Mom and had some good friends, and wasn't doing bad at school - but somehow the farm felt like my real home. Perhaps it was in my genes, because it was where my Dad had grown up, and his father before him. Anyway on my last night I was lying awake in bed and I actually started crying at the thought of leaving. I was trying to keep the noise down because Sam was a few feet away in the other bed. I was hoping he was asleep, but he got out of bed and climbed into mine and hugged me. I just started sobbing my heart out on his shoulder, holding on as tight as I could. He told me not to worry, that he would miss me too, and that he and his dad wanted me to come back every summer - more often if I could. We slept in the same bed and in the morning over breakfast Will said I was like his other son and that he'd be real happy if I came back soon and that I should think of the farm as my home. They drove me to the bus station, sent love to my Mom, and hugged me goodbye. I was sniffling as far as Chicago, my only consolation being the knowledge ! that I would be back in nine months time.

By then though my mom was really sick and had had to give up her job. I was pretty much running the house - all the shopping and washing and cooking as well as working evenings and trying to do my schoolwork. Even if Mom could have done without me we didn't have the money for me to take a holiday. Two summers went by and by the second we knew that mom was dying. I kind of shut down emotionally and did what I had to do. Sam and I had written each other every few months, but somehow now I couldn't think of much to say, though his letters were really concerned and sympathetic. He even said he'd come and see me and help me out for a few weeks once harvest was in but I turned the offer down. I guess I knew it would make me happy, and somehow that didn't feel right with Mom so ill.

Uncle Will and Sam drove all the way from Montana for the funeral, helped me pack up the rented house and drove me back with them. My school was breaking up for the summer soon and I'd decided to miss the last couple weeks of the semester. The plan was I'd move to the high school in the town ten miles from the farm - there was an old pickup at the farm, as well as the jeep, and Will said I could use that to get to and from school.

I wasn't exactly in shock - it had been coming for a long time - but I was pretty messed up about Mom. Uncle Will and Sam just looked after me and were gentle with me and let me cry, and after about a month I was beginning to smile occasionally. After two months I was starting to pull my weight around the farm and go out with Sam in the evenings. We'd buy some beers and raid his hash box and meet some of his friends by the lake. Sam had loads of friends but somehow always made me feel like the special one - even though I was pretty quiet and shy. They were a real nice crowd - all of us in our late teens - but Sam seemed to be ..... I don't know - perhaps not so much the leader but the Golden Boy. Everyone loved him - he was very funny, and even through my sorrow I could see he was utterly gorgeous - face and body both - and a real tease with everyone, girls and boys alike - almost like flirting, but in a real nice way.

Another thing I became aware of was something I'd noticed when I first went to the farm but had never understood. Sam and his dad clearly loved each other but their relationship was strangely formal. I called Will 'Uncle Will' and he called me 'Dan' or 'Son', but Sam always called him 'Sir' and Will usually called Sam 'Boy' and tended to be quite gruff with him. I almost never saw Sam tease his Dad, though he did everyone else, and if Will said to do something Sam just did it, then and there, without argument.

With me on the other hand, Will was real gentle and caring - I never felt awed by him, and while I did what I was asked to do, it was out of politeness not fear. I'd tried hinting at my curiosity to Sam a few times but - definitely out of character - he had never seemed to want to tell me. The most he ever said was that he and his dad understood one another.

Another thing that made me curious - one night I'd gone to bed early after a hard day's work on the farm. As I was nodding off I heard Will raise his voice in the kitchen - in all the time I'd been there I'd never heard Will angry. I couldn't make out most of it, but then I clearly heard Will say "I'll see you in the barn". It went quiet after that and I dropped off, but next day Sam - we were baling straw - was a bit weird - more restrained, and he even seemed to be walking a bit funny, and when we stopped for lunch, as he was sitting down under a tree he yelped and winced when he touched ground. I asked what was wrong but he just laughed. He told me that if I couldn't work it out I must have led a very sheltered life. That sounded enough like a put down to shut me up.

Three months after I arrived, Will and I went and signed me up at the school - term started in two weeks. One week later Will just dropped down dead while baling - weak heart they said, just like my dad.

Somehow, I suppose coming so soon after my mom, this just completely did me in. I cried for days. Sam was clearly devastated but somehow managed to sort the funeral, tend the farm and do his grieving. He even had some strength left over to comfort me. I was useless - I didn't help with anything. Even though it was his dad that had died, I let him look after me - which he did. I was too angry and upset and sorry for myself to notice how selfish I was being. I know I had the right to grieve, but I should have thought it through enough to care about Sam, help him out in return. Somehow though he'd always been the strong one who had looked after me. I just didn't see that he was only eighteen - barely a year older than me, and was having to cope with loosing his only parent and deal with a whole load of really complicated practical stuff as well. He didn't grin as much as he used to - in fact for the first time since I'd known him he looked worried some of the time - but generally he was his usual self, cheeky grin and all.

I guess from what I've said so far I sound pretty innocent and naive. I guess I was - maybe am - all this happened only last year. I'd tried to be interested in girls without much success. I'd been much more successful at pretending to myself I wasn't interested in boys. I wanked a lot but that was the full limit of my _s_e_x_ual experience. The fact that I totally and utterly idolised, loved, adored and lusted after my cousin had somehow been buried under my grief, as well as my fear of what I might be. At some deep level I knew it, but there had been enough emotional distraction to let me keep it out of my consciousness.

School started only a week after Will died - I didn't go. I didn't leave my room much in fact. Day after day I lay there - sometimes I'd get up for meals (cooked by Sam), sometimes I'd say I wasn't hungry. Apart from the funeral I hadn't been off the farm for a month.

Unlike my first holiday at the farm, I had my own room - they'd done out one of the attic rooms specially for me when they knew I'd be moving in with them. Every day Sam would come and talk to me after he came in from working the farm. If I said I wasn't hungry he'd try and persuade me to eat. He never complained that I wasn't helping him, and although he said I was missing an awful lot of school and shouldn't I think about going back, he never pressured me. In spite of my state of mind, I was having difficulty ignoring the fact that whenever Sam came and sat on the end of my bed after work - skin tight jeans, sweaty T-shirt, wicked smile, usually a hug - to try and cheer me up, I'd be hiding a massive boner under the sheets.

After a few weeks of this, I got a major shock. It was a Sunday night - I'd been up for lunch (I'd even done the cooking for a change) but had taken to my bed again for the afternoon, even though I knew Sam was really pushed on the farm. Sam came in around six as usual and came to my room and started talking straight off.

"Dan, look Man, this can't go on. I'm worried about the amount of school you're missin'. I've cut you a lot of slack since Daddy died, but you got to get yourself together. Tomorrow you go to school - no argument - or there'll be hell to pay, OK?"

I said something about not being ready, but he just bounced straight back that I better _f_u_c_k_ing get myself ready by tomorrow morning or I'd be sorry about it and walked out.

This was so different from the way he usually talked to me that I was struck dumb. He'd never told me what to do before - never sounded angry with me before. I just felt more sorry for myself than ever, and finally dropped off to sleep. I don't think actually going in to school ever occurred to me, though I guess I expected him to have another go at me tomorrow when I didn't. The next day though I got up at a reasonable time - he'd gone off to work at 6am - and did some chores about the house for a change. By the time he came in I'd even cooked the evening meal.

First thing he asked me was had I gone to school.

"No", I said "I told you I wasn't ready yet, Man."

"Get to the barn" was all he said.

I was so surprised by his tone and manner that I just went without argument. I had no idea what was going on. I just felt in a daze. I was also pretty worried - Sam's opinion of me was the most important thing in my life by a factor of about a thousand. I hadn't meant to get him pissed like this. I wasn't sure I could bear it. I made a decision to do whatever it took to make it up to him. I'd promise to go to school tomorrow. I'd show him how sorry I was for not helping him more. Anything.

I stood in the barn, wondering - why here? -

Five minutes later he came in holding a long whippy switch. Even in my befuddled state - and never having been beaten in my life - the implication wasn't lost on me. I guess my jaw dropped and my eyes popped out.

"As I said, I've cut you a lot of slack," he said. " From now on I am going to do what I can to make you snap out of this state you're in. You've missed a month of school, and since you can't seem to look after yourself, I'm going to do it for you. I care about you too much to let you mess your life up. This is my place now my Daddy's dead, an' I wouldn't let you leave if you wanted to 'cause you're all the family I've got. But as long as you're here you'll do it how I say. I'm goin' to whip you right now because you didn't go to school like I told you to. From now on you cross me in the littlest thing and I'll beat you - small things, my hand; bigger things, the switch, and major _f_u_c_k_ing disasters I'll go find my Daddy's paddle."

I was standing there going bright red and completely nonplussed. To make matters worse, for some inexplicable reason I seemed to be getting hard-on - hopefully hidden by my soccer shirt. This was just so totally outside the context of our relationship and all my previous experience - of life and of Sam.

I was stammering - I tried to say that I thought we were friends and I was too old for physical punishment and what right did he have anyway.

"My Daddy paddled me a week before he died and would most likely have whupped me since if he was still here to do it. And yes, we're friends, in fact you're my best friend, so I'm sorry it has to be me who has to do this. But I guess I'm also the nearest thing you've got to a big brother, so I guess that gives me the right, and its only because I care about you a lot that I'm doin' this. If you don't believe me you'd better say so right now."

I looked at him. I didn't know what to believed but I kept my mouth shut.

He dragged an old armchair with the stuffing spilling out away from a corner and into the middle of the barn. He came back to where I was standing and put his arm around my shoulder - still holding the switch in the other hand - and guided me over to the chair.

"OK"' he said, "Drop your jeans".

I was crying silently by now. My brain was in complete confusion. My dick was rock hard. I was totally terrified - not from the prospect of pain (which I hadn't even thought about yet) - but of this change in our relationship. What could I do to keep our friendship? Should I resist, tell him to stop being a bastard and leave me alone? Should I do what he says? Should I persuade him to punish me some other way? How do I hide my hard-on if I drop my pants?

"Go on" he said, suddenly very gentle, "Drop 'em, Dan. Its better this way".

Somehow just doing what he said seemed the easiest way. I unbuckled my belt, undid my fly and peeled my tight jeans halfway down my thighs.

Saying nothing, he very gently pushed me over the back of the chair so that I was cradling my head in my arms on the seat and my cotton brief-covered butt was way up in the air. The thing that still most worried me was trying to make sure that he didn't see my hard-on.

Saying nothing, he laid on the first stripe. I howled out in pain - the one thing that I hadn't been worried about was that it would hurt like hell. There was a bit of a pause and then the next one landed - I think I must have screamed. I got eighteen more, though I guess he must have gone a bit easier on me after those first two. It was still agony, especially when the stripes crossed earlier ones. I was weeping and sobbing, but I didn't beg him to stop or try to protect myself. Somehow I'd come to believe that he was doing this for me, for my own good. Also, I was afraid that when he stopped I would have to stand up and then he would see my hard-on (which was still raging) and then I would want the earth to swallow me. Death would be better than that humiliation in front of Sam.

The last three strokes were relatively light and quick. He pulled me up from the chair and hugged me tight, getting snot and tears all over the shoulder of his T-shirt. Instinctively I just hugged him back (while - also spontaneously - trying to keep my groin away from his leg). He pulled me in tighter, putting his hand on my butt, pulling me in and rubbing it gently. My whole body went rigid - my dick was now pressed into his thigh - he couldn't miss it. This was the end.

All that happened was that he pressed my face into his shoulder, saying "I love you, Man" over and over again into my ear. I carried on sobbing, gradually relaxing in my body, my brain just going into overwhelm drive. I had no thoughts. I felt love and pain and desire more powerful than ever before.

Eventually - maybe ten minutes, maybe half and hour - I stopped crying and he slowly sat down in the chair he'd whipped me over, guiding me over into his lap. He held me there in his arms, rocking me in his arms. I still had my jeans down and I guessed he must have been able to see the tent in my briefs but I was now beyond humiliation. I was like a little kid, and wasn't really thinking at all. It was just a blur of emotion.

He started talking very softly - "My Daddy whipped me pretty often - maybe every two or three weeks. Usually he used the paddle but if we were out on the farm he'd cut a switch, which wasn't as bad - that's why I thought I'd start you off on that. First time you first came to stay, he said I wasn't to tell you about the whippin's, said you'd had a hard life and didn't need to be scared of anybody here. He said that whippin' me only worked because I knew he loved me. He said he loved you too but that you didn't know him well enough to know that, so he'd maybe have to find some other way of keepin' you in line, or maybe even he'd just put up with you bein' out of line.

"When I saw you wasting your life away in that room, I couldn't handle it. I guess I've made up my mind, right or wrong, that I gotta do something about it. I figured I care about you enough to whip you, and that if you don't understand that I'll just have to prove it. When I was real small I'd always sleep in Daddy's bed when I'd been smacked - he'd hug me to sleep. I can't remember when that stopped, but by then I knew that he was doin' it for my own good. I guess there are better ways of lookin' after someone, but I don't know 'em, and right now I'm too tired to try and work them out. It didn't do me any harm that I know of, so from now on there's only two choices you got - you do what I say or you get whupped. And from now on when you get whupped you'll bed down with me, OK?"

Very gently he sat me up and pulled up my jeans - my hard-on had semi-subsided by now - and, arm over my shoulder, Sam led me back to the house.

In silence, still snuffling occasionally and with no idea what to say and feeling pretty weird, I served up the meal I'd prepared. We ate, with Sam saying friendly cheerful things to me from time to time but mostly in silence, and drank a few beers.

It was like being drugged. The boy I loved, worshiped and desired more than anyone in this world had just beaten me and had told me I had to sleep in his bed. This is not a simple situation for a naïve, supposedly straight boy of seventeen to get his head round!

......................................................................................................................................................

"Don't spend all night in the bath, OK, Man? See you back here in 10 minutes" Sam called to me as I headed for the bathroom with my towel.

I was still trying to mentally digest everything that had happened to me that evening, most specifically the caning - twenty strokes with a willow switch - that I had received from my best friend and cousin, Sam, only a couple of hours ago. I was still very sore indeed and yelped as I climbed into the bath and the hot water touched the welts. Just thinking about the whipping got my dick hard again, which I couldn't work out because it had been just about the most awful and painful experience of my life and certainly the most humiliating. That got me to thinking about the prospect of sharing Sam's bed.

Why had he told me I had to?

Under any other circumstances I would have been pretty happy about it - just because I liked being near him, not because I could imagine (or even thought I wanted) that it would lead to anything _s_e_x_y. I'd never for a moment doubted that Sam was straight as an arrow, and I hadn't exactly admitted to myself that I might be gay, or even bi.

But tonight, with the humiliations of being bawled out, having to drop my pants and bend over, and taking a caning from him, I was totally embarrassed to be anywhere near him, let alone in his bed. And surely he must have seen my boner through my briefs, or felt it when he hugged me afterwards? That was the worst thing of all, and how was I going to hide it when I was getting into bed? What if we rolled into each other in the night and it was still raging?

I decided to have a quick wank there and then in the bath to try and calm it down. Somehow the memory of my punishment kept coming into my head, and I'd barely touched my dick before I was cumming in bucket loads. I cleaned up, got out of the bath and towelled down, and put on some cotton shorts I'd brought from my room, on the basis that they were perhaps slightly less revealing than briefs, though in fact they were quite tight and still didn't leave much to the imagination. I was still growing, and had filled out from the work on the farm. I hadn't bought any new clothes for a while so most of my stuff fit like a second skin. Still, best option I had.

I hung about in the bathroom for a bit, dragging out cleaning my teeth and drying my hair. Eventually I plucked up my courage and went to Sam's room.

Sam was sprawled across the bed on his front, wearing white cotton shorts like mine and reading a magazine. I couldn't help noticing the beautiful curve of his butt in the tight shorts. He looked up at me with an evil grin as I walked in and then looked at the clock by his bed.

"You're just not getting the hang of this are you, Dan, my Lad? I said ten minutes and youve been twenty five."

I had a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, but then was partly reassured by his grin.

"But that wasn't like an order was it?" I said. "I didn't really take in what you said, and anyway what does it matter how long I spend in the bath?"

"Doesn't matter at all, except that I told you to be back here in ten. You're getting a crash course in doin' what your told, Kiddo, and that means you treat everythin' I tell you to do as an order, and everythin' I tell you to do which you don't do earns you a sore butt!"

"But please, Man" I said, almost sobbing. "You can't punish me for taking a long bath. Thats just not fair. 'Specially after .........what you did earlier."

Now I was feeling really afraid and starting to get angry about the unreasonableness of what he was saying. The earlier punishment had been in deadly seriousness, and I'd honestly believed that he thought he was doing it for my own good. Now he seemed to be teasing me by threatening to whip me for something utterly unimportant, and grinning about it. Also my butt was still very sore, even after the bath. The thought of being beaten on top of my welts and bruises was more than I could bear - I knew I couldn't take one more cut with that switch.

"You're not going to get wacked for taking a slow bath, you're going to get wacked for not doin' what you're told. Big difference."

He sat up on the edge of the bed, not grinning but with a definite twinkle in his eye.

"Now bend yerself down over my knee. I'll take account of the fact that you've already been whupped today in how hard I swat you. Do it now and you'll just get fifteen - one for each minute you were late. If I have to force you over I'll give you double with your shorts down."

It was this last threat that persuaded me. No way was I loosing my shorts - that was one humiliation too many, especially as my only-just-milked dick was getting ominously perky again, though hopefully not yet visibly so. He slapped his left thigh and I quickly but carefully lay down over it, making absolutely sure that my prospective boner was in the gap between his thighs. He shifted me about into position, lowering his left leg so that my upper body was lower, my head on the floor cushioned by my arms, and my backside stuck way up. My balls were pressed against the inside of his right thigh and my dick was now rigid, held awkwardly sideways by the shorts. He rested his hand gently on my bum - I was afraid I might cum there and then I was so turned on. I was already snivelling with shame, fear and frustration: why was he humiliating me like this if he claimed to be my best friend? Even though I had my shorts on I felt exposed. To have to submit to sticking my bum in the air, bent over his lap like a little kid, and Sam behaving like my father or master left me feeling that completely unbearable, agonising degree of embarrassment that only teenagers can. It felt like I'd never be able to face Sam, or the world again. Then I remembered that when he'd punished me earlier he'd said he was acting as my big brother. I'd never had a real brother, but I held on to the idea - somehow it seemed to make it more possible to see him as my friend and as an authority figure at the same time.

"Dan?" he said. "You OK down there Dan?"

"What do you think?" I snarled between my sobs. "No I am not _f_u_c_k_ing OK".

His hand lifted and came down on my butt with full force. I howled in pain.

"That was an extra one for bein' disrespectful while I'm chastisin' you. You can say what the _f_u_c_k_ you like to me the rest of the time, but during spankings you mind your mouth. You got that?"

I said nothing - just carried on snuffling - so he smacked me again, though not so hard. I yelped and said "Yes".

"OK, now listen up Dan. This is going to be a kinda token spanking, 'cause you're already sore from being switched earlier and because its your first day of this sort of thing. Usually, I'm going to wallop you way harder than this. You got that?"

I snuffled a 'Yeah'

He rubbed my bottom a bit more and then slapped it fairly gently, leaving his hand where it landed. "First one" he said. It only stung at all because my butt was already so sore. For once I managed to stay quiet. He counted out the next nine, each one getting slightly harder, but still not so hard that I did more than gasp a bit at each one. There were several seconds between each wack, during which he would leave his hand on my butt. What with my balls still pressed up against his thigh, rubbing against it every time I jerked forward with each slap, my boner was in a state of frenzy, throbbing and jumping inside the confinement of my shorts. I was totally terrified what would happen when the spanking ended and I had to stand up, and the way things were going I might even cum while I was across his lap.

"OK" he said on reaching ten. "Last five are goin' to be a warning. These had better come down I reckon" - this said as he grabbed the waste band of my shorts and started to pull.

"NO NOOOO" I screamed "PLEASE SAM PLEASE DON'T DO THAT. PLEASE" I was struggling violently now, trying to wriggle off his lap and hold my shorts up at the same time. He was a fair bit stronger than me - I'm pretty fit but Sam was bigger and a year older than me and had spent his life working the farm. Without too much effort he got my arms held behind my back with his left hand, and pinned my legs down with one of his. With his right hand he manoeuvred my shorts down, while I sobbed and howled and begged him over and over again to stop. My shorts got hooked on my erection and he pushed his hand between my legs and gently disentangled it from the elastic, brushing it with his hand in both directions.

Well now he had to know. I lay across his lap with my shorts half way down my thighs and just let go in a flood of tears, sobbing violently and gulping for air, no longer struggling, totally beaten and humiliated.

"Hey Man" he said, now very gentle. "No need to be embarrassed, OK? I can't remember when I last got a spanking without gettin' a boner. That was pretty embarrassin' for me in front of my dad, but I know what its like so its cool with me. Seems like givin' spankings has the same effect on me as takin' 'em, allowin' for my present state, OK?" He giggled a bit.

I couldn't believe what he'd just said. I thought I must have heard him wrong or something. I lay there in stunned silence, though still sniffling and crying.

"OK" he said "Lets get these last five over with then we can get to bed."

With that he rained down five very hard swots on my burning bare butt, fast as he could. I could feel the cool wind of each one before the fire struck. I screamed each time he hit me, and then lay there sobbing hopelessly as he gently rubbed my bottom. This soon got my dick hard again, though it had gone down a bit during the worst of the shame and pain, so when he helped me to my feet there was no hiding it, though I pulled up my shorts as fast as I could. I just hung my head and put my hands in front of me, my shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

However, I did get a glimpse of what looked like a major elongated bulge in his shorts.

"Get into bed, Kiddo, and lets make up. Now's where I try to make you realise I'm on your side, Dan my Bro."

I climbed in, keeping well over to one side, and he got the light switch and got in the other. Without a word he just pulled me over to him and enveloped me in a tight hug. I could feel his boner pressed against my thigh so I stopped worrying about him being able to feel mine. I felt light-headed - my worst fears and shame had been for no reason. In fact I felt wonderful, in spite of the major pain in my backside and total confusion in my head. After a bit I hugged him back and we just lay there for what felt like a long time, my cheek resting on his, feeling his warm breath on my ear. At first I thought we might just fall asleep like this - he didn't seem to want to let me go, and I certainly wanted to stay where I was. But then I had this feeling that my dick was just getting harder and harder and was experiencing little jolts of energy when it would twitch and jump. Then, even though we were lying quite still, I got the sense that Sam's boner was jumping too. This went on for a couple of minutes, and then suddenly and at exactly the same moment we were just all over each other, humping and kissing and rubbing our dicks together through our shorts. It was a complete frenzy. Then we tugged each other's shorts down but were in too much of a hurry to take them all the way off so we were grabbing and holding and rubbing each other's dicks with our legs all tangled up in cotton trunks. We came at the same moment, all over each other in great globs and fell back on the bed laughing and kissing and hugging. We lay in each others arms for a bit in silence, but I was soon feeling horny as hell again.

"Lie there" he instructed me, pushing me onto my back. He ducked down under the covers and the next thing I knew I could feel his mouth around my dick - my first ever blow job. I went wild - it felt dreamy, especially when he started kissing and sucking my balls. Then he knelt up and gently pushed my legs in the air, holding my knees in front of my face with his left arm, and exposing my butt.

"Time I gave you another licking" he whispered and I shrieked "NO. PLEASE. I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE" and tried to wriggle out of the position he was holding me in.

"Relax, Kiddo." He giggled. "I think you're going to like this one better." And with that he lowered his face to my bottom and very softly drew his tongue along one of the weals he'd given me earlier with the switch. I couldn't believe it - what he was doing or that it could feel so good. After his tongue had covered every inch of sore surface I realised he was lapping my butt hole, then pushing it in. My body was convulsing with ecstasy. "Stay there" he ordered, so I held my thighs in position with my hands while he went to the bathroom. He came back with a bottle of some sort of lotion, put some on his hand, applied it to my hole and gently started to finger _f_u_c_k_ me. He was pressed tight up against me while we was doing this and I could feel his boned pressed into my leg. Suddenly I knew what I wanted.

"Please Man. Will you.........you know? Will you? I want it so much."

He leant down and kissed me long and hard, still finger _f_u_c_k_ing me with one hand.

"First time?" he said.

"Yeah"

"It might hurt some. You still wanna try?"

"Yeah. If you want to."

"More'n I ever wanted anything. OK. Get on your hands and knees."

I did as he said, pushing my ass up in the air. I felt exposed and vulnerable like when I'd had to submit my backside for punishment earlier, feeling Sam's total power over me, feeling that he was the master. Only now it felt right. I felt so good. I felt totally safe in his hands, even though what was about to happen was scary new territory.

He knelt on the bed behind me, and I felt his dick nuzzling in my crack and then at my butt hole. Then he pushed the head in and I gasped with the shock of it.

"Now Man" he said "I know how this feels for you. Best thing is to take it all at once and then get used to it when I'm in you. Bite down on the pillow."

He pushed forward with one fast thrust right up to the hilt and into me, and I felt his balls slap into me. I screamed and bit the pillow hard and then we both became very still. Slowly the pain faded and the sense of his boner hard inside me set me shivering with a feeling so good I'd never dreamed it was possible.

"You OK?" he whispered.

I moaned with pleasure - incapable of words, and I guess he took that as a 'yes'!

Slowly he started to pull in and out, stroking my prostate with the head of his dick with each fantastic push forward. He started going faster and reached round me to hold my throbbing hard-on, and then wank me in time to his thrusts. I couldn't hold on for long - my moans of pleasure started to get louder and faster and then I bucked and cried out as I started to shoot in his hand. I could feel the muscles of my butthole clamp down on his rod. He gave a shout of pure raw teenage lust, and I could feel his hot spunk pumping into my gut. The moment seemed to go on and on. Then he flopped down on top of me and I collapsed flat down onto the mattress, and we lay still, his comforting weight on top of me and his softening dick still up my ass.

After a long while he pulled out and rolled off me, then pulled me in to him and gave me a passionate deep long kiss. We fell asleep in each other's arms quite soon and without another word.

Two hours later I woke up to find him staring straight into my eyes and grinning, and our rock hard dicks pressing into each other. "Again?" he giggled. I kissed him and started to get back onto my hands and knees, but he stopped me. "I want to make love to you this time", he said, rolling onto me and kissing me. He pushed my legs up and entered me again, very gently this time, and _f_u_c_k_ed me long and slow, never breaking the kiss, massaging my dick with the light fuzz on his belly.

Later, when we'd finished, I was actually shedding tears of sheer joy which he kissed away, but I could see that he was crying too.

"Love you" he whispered, and I fell asleep and dreamt I was in heaven.


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