In a secluded corner of the park, hidden by trees, I saw a man spanking his son. The man was sitting on a bench, with his boy across his lap, and he was giving the spanking with a large, calloused hand. As it slapped down on to the boy's rear, that hand seemed to actually cover it.
"You can watch," the man told me, "If you're next."
I was too stunned to say or do anything, so I just stood there.
The man's legs were spread apart. The boy had his crotch resting on one leg, and his chest on the other. His arms were wrapped tight around his dad's left leg. The boy's jeans were around his ankles, and his white briefs were around his knees. He looked to be around 12, about four years younger than me. The spanking seemed to go on for a long time. The boy rode his dad's lap, taking his punishment very well. He squirmed, a bit, and moaned after every few slaps, but he didn't cry. His cheeks slowly turned pink, then crimson.
Spank! Spank! Spank! Again and again, the man's right hand shot down, cutting the air, stinging the boy's bare backside. I watched, with butterflies in my stomach. My legs felt shaky.
At last, the bare-bottom spanking was over. The man told his son that he was proud of him, for taking it so well. "Good lad," he said, a few times. The boy smiled, and stood up. Both of them looked at me.
I walked over to stand by the man. The boy tugged up his jeans and stood rubbing his sore bottom. The man nodded, and I slid down my jeans and underwear all at once, down to my knees. Slowly, I laid myself down across the man's lap. His legs were very warm, as though they had been absorbing body heat from the boy. It felt very familiar and comforting to find myself in this position. It had been a while. And I was ready for the spanking, too. I could feel the man's own body heat pouring into me, as I got comfortable on his lap. The man was giving off a very soothing, safe vibe. I knew that this spanking - like the boy's - would be not just punishment, but protection as well. The man was taking care of us.
Then the man began spanking my bare bottom with that large hand. Spank! Spank! Spank! A fire began to build in my rear, as I lay there, in his embrace, with my arms dangling down and my feet off the ground. I, too, squirmed a bit, and moaned, as my cheeks were no doubt turning red. The boy watched. The man spanked me, the blows getting harder and harder. Spank! Spank! They were about ten seconds apart, giving me time to prepare for them. Soon, I could feel the spanks coming at me, and I welcomed them, raising my rear a bit. My bottom was stinging, but it actually felt good to be there, across his lap, with his left hand on my back and his right spanking me. It went on for quite a while, and there must have been at least twenty sharp spanks.
"Good lad," he told me. "Just a few more."
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
And then it was over. I stood up, with his help, and began rubbing my sore bottom.
"Good lad," he said to me, again.