I had spent a large part of the Christmas holidays in dreaming up ways in which I could ingratiate myself with Bowood Minor. He, it will be remembered was the dashing boy in my year and house upon whom I had developed an enormous crush. My feelings towards him are very difficult to describe. They were not, at least not in the normally understood manner, homo_s_e_x_ual. I have never wanted to have a physical relationship with another male and it certainly did not occur to me then that I might enjoy such a relationship with Bowood Minor. But I have to be honest and confess that _s_e_x_ did play some part in my attitude to him. He used to boast, in the dormitory, of his success with girls and I did occasionally find myself, when indulging in the normal schoolboy's solitary vice, imagining him rolling in the hay with some beauty. I had also been aroused when he had been caned. Although I had not witnessed the beating itself, I had seen his striped bottom in the dormitory afterwards and the sight had caused me to become considerably excited: so much so that I had had to rush to my bed to avoid anyone noticing. There were, I must admit, many nights after that when I found myself picturing the stripes across his bottom as I lay in bed. And the result was always the same.
So, as I say, there was some _s_e_x_ in it. But there was an awful lot more. In my eyes, he could do no wrong at all. Indeed, if Bowood Minor did something that might conventionally be thought to be wrong or immoral, the fact that he had done it was, for me, irrefutable evidence that, whatever it was, was not only acceptable but also highly desirable. I obviously admired him for the reasons which made him so popular with other boys and masters. His prowess at all sports inevitably made him something of a hero to the rest of us. His dislike of bullying and support for weaker victims of it, were clearly highly admirable. But why should I, who had always been a terrible goody-goody about smoking, have suddenly become desperately eager to dash behind the bike sheds for a fag during break? The answer was, of course, that Bowood Minor did it. So I had to do it as well.
The reader may recall that, during that first term, I had hit upon the idea of trying to get myself caned at the same time as my hero in order to forge a bond with him. But the plan had come to nothing because of the school's policy of doing its best to ensure that new boys were not caned in their first term (Bowood Minor had been at the school for two years, in a junior house, before I arrived and was therefore exempt from that policy). By the end of term I had learned of this preferable treatment of new boys and understood why I had failed. But the knowledge gave me some hope. In the Easter term I would be treated exactly as Bowood had been. There should be, I thought, a reasonable chance of carrying off the plan. In fact, things were going to be vastly easier than I had thought possible.
I have a cousin called Lucy. She had started at a girl's boarding school in Belhampton (where my school was) at the same time as me. It may seem odd to a modern generation of readers, but, despite the fact that she and I had almost grown up together, I had not seen her at all during the Christmas term. Belhampton Girls School was very much out of bounds to us. What was more, there were even strict rules, drafted by both schools together, setting out which parts of the town and countryside around it could be visited by the pupils of each school. We boys, for instance, were allowed to go for walks along the south side of the river, but we were strictly prohibited from walking on the north side, where the girls were permitted to take their recreation. The rules were not strictly adhered to, at least by older boys and girls. Many of the more senior boys used to risk a thrashing in order to have secret meetings with girls. But no one in my year had done so. That was largely, no doubt, due to the fact that no one knew any girls at the neighbouring school. Obviously, I knew Lucy. But only the maddest of thirteen year old boys would risk a caning in order to see his own cousin. I must have been pretty dim, I suppose, not to have realised that my connection with the girls' school could be of great use to me. But it just never occurred to me at all.
Because they had to see Lucy's headmistress, my uncle and aunt drove both of us to school on the first day of the Easter term. I was dropped off first. My uncle helped me in with my trunk and tuck box and Lucy, naturally, came along too. She was dressed in mufti. I think she was wearing blue jeans and a T shirt. So no one could have realised that she was at the girls school. After we had dumped my luggage, we went back out to the car. I said goodbye to them, hoping no one would see the inevitable kiss from my aunt, and they drove off. I then went back into School House. As I walked through the front door I was immediately accosted by, of all people, Bowood Minor.
"Hey, Rushton,", he exclaimed, who was that stunning bird with your folks?"
I was rather taken aback. I had to think for a couple of seconds before I realised that he must have meant Lucy. It had never occurred to me for a second that anyone could find Lucy attractive. I now realise, of course, how wrong I was. Lucy was indeed a remarkably pretty girl and, at that time, she was just beginning to take on the appearance of a budding woman. Her breasts were still small, but becoming noticeable. Her legs were long and slim. Her waist was beginning to become just that. Her bottom was starting to become slightly rounder than that of a boy. Her complexion was fair and clear. And to top it all, she had wonderfully thick blonde hair. But to all of that I was blind. To me, she was just my cousin.
"Oh, that's just my cousin, and they're not my folks, they're hers", I said dismissively, somehow imagining that Bowood would drop the subject once he knew what a low form of life she was. But he didn't.
"She's a real stunner. How old is she?"
"Same age as us, thirteen".
"Does she go to a day school in London?" He knew that I lived in London and obviously assumed, correctly as it happens, that she did as well.
"No, she goes to the Girls school here."
"What, you mean she's just down the road from us?"
"Yes".
"She can't have been there last term though."
"Yes she was. Why shouldn't she have been?"
"You're not saying that you kept her under your hat all last term? You must be an incredibly protective cousin. Still, I suppose you're right. If you let her loose on us lot, who knows what would happen."
I was still finding it hard to get to grips with the idea that any boy might have the slightest bit of interest in Lucy. But, by now, it was gradually dawning on me that others must have seen something in her that I could not. It was then that I had a brainwave.
"Well, I suppose I wouldn't like the idea of some of Junior Dorm getting too fresh with Lucy. But I'm sure I could trust you Bowood. Do you want me to try to introduce you to her? It would mean breaking bounds of course. But if you're game, I don't mind risking a swishing, especially if she brings a bird along for me too."
"Spending half and hour with a girl as pretty as that would be worth half a dozen swishings. I'm on if you are."
I immediately set about making the arrangements. Of course, I could not telephone the girls school. That would have led to an immediate three Ds (demerits, three of which resulted in a caning). But I could write to Lucy. So I went straight to Junior Study and wrote the letter. This, as far as I can recall, is how I put it:
"Dear Lucy,
"I wonder whether you think it might be great fun for us to meet on your side of the river on Saturday afternoon. I have a really good friend called Bowood Minor who is absolutely splendid and who I know you would like and he is on to come with me. He is brilliant at rugby and quite clever as well. I really do know you would like him. He is the complete opposite of a goody-goody and always goes along with an adventure. If you are a bit shy about meeting someone new, you could bring one of your friends along as well.
"Bowood has told me that a good place to meet is by the town sports pavilion. That is not out of bounds to you, so you wouldn't get into trouble. If any of your mistresses or prefects saw you with us, you could just say that we came up to you and you were telling us not to be on the wrong side of the river. That way you wouldn't get punished and only we would.
"Anyway, we will be there at 3 o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Hope to see you then.
"Obviously, you must not let any prefects or mistresses see this letter and it would probably be safer not to reply.
"Love
"Jim"
The letter was posted on the Tuesday morning. For the next four days I could think of nothing but whether Lucy would let me down. If she did, I reckoned it would set back my efforts to become a part of Bowood's gang by ages. But, if she did not, I had every hope that he and I would become the firmest of friends. I was already getting a taste of what that would be like. He, too, was excited by the prospect of our adventure on Saturday. He sought me out several times as the days passed in order to ask me more about Lucy. Did she like sports? What were her hobbies? What sort of music did she like? Did she have a boyfriend at home? And so on. I did my best to answer. Yes, she did like sports. She was keen on riding her pony. I wasn't sure what music she liked. No, as far as I knew, she did not have a boyfriend yet. On Friday, after prep, he became bolder in his questions.
"I say Rushton", he whispered to me as were walking to Junior Study together, "is Lucy ever, well, um, is she ever naughty? You know what I mean, is she prepared to do things for fun even if she might get into trouble for them?"
I understood immediately what he was getting at. I also considered that girls who were, in the school slang of the time, 'goody-goodies', were simply not worth bothering with. Fortunately, I was able to reassure him.
"Oh yes, she's a real tomboy. We practically grew up together and she's always been game for a lark. A couple of years ago her family were on holiday in Cornwall and I was staying with them. One day I suggested to her that we might slip out of the house we were staying in at midnight and go for a skinny dip in the sea. Of course, we knew her folks would be furious with us if we were caught. But she was just as keen to do it as me. She's that sort of girl."
"I thought she was, just from seeing her the other day". Bowood was grinning at the thought of her naughtiness. "Did you get away with it, I mean the midnight swim?"
"Almost. We got down to the sea and had our swim. It was actually a bit frightening to start with. The surf was really up and it was quite dark. But once we were in we had a great time. We got all the way back to the house without being seen. But, worse luck, just as we got into the garden we almost bumped into my uncle, Lucy's dad. He'd come out for a smoke before bed. He was not amused, I can tell you."
"Wow, what happened?"
"It wasn't too bad. He gave me the slipper and he used the back of a hairbrush on her. She took it really well. We only got four each, but he's a pretty hard whacker and, well, you do expect girls to cry. Anyway, she didn't. She got it first and it looked really painful, but she didn't make a sound."
"What, you mean you actually saw her getting whacked?"
"Course. Like I said, we practically grew up together. I'd never seen her get the hairbrush treatment before, but I'd seen her getting spanked with her dad's hand quite a few times."
"Crikey, what was she wearing when she got the hairbrush?"
"Well, she was in her nightie, so it was easy for my uncle just to pull it up and give her the whacks on the bare bum."
I could see that this story was having quite an effect on Bowood. So I gave a more detailed description.
"Actually, her nightie was one of those really short ones. It was a good four inches above the knees. He just sat down on a chair and pointed to his knees. She didn't argue or anything. She just went up to him and lay across his lap. He pulled the nightie almost up to her shoulders. So most of her back and all of her bum and legs were completely bare. Her bum was white at the start and bright red at the end."
"You must be the luckiest boy alive Rushton. I'd just love to see Lucy getting a bare bum whacking. I've never seen a girl getting it. Was it fantastic to watch?"
"Well, you must remember, she's like a sister to me so it wasn't really any more interesting than watching another boy getting punished. But I can see that someone who fancied her might have got turned on by it."
By now, we were in the Junior Study sitting side by side on one of the sofas. I glanced down at Bowood's crotch and saw that my account of Lucy's whacking had definitely had its intended effect. His trousers were giving a very good impression of a tent and his efforts to hide his excitement by resting his hands on his flies were not at all successful. That night, in the dorm, Bowood's bed started creaking almost as soon as the lights went out!
By the time Saturday arrived I had discovered that boys in their second term at Belhampton were clearly no longer exempt from normal treatment by prefects. Somehow, I had already acquired two Ds. One had been for talking after lights out (to Bowood who had also been given a D). The other had been for having my hands in my pockets in Study Corridor. I somehow doubted whether I would succeed in keeping out of trouble for the best part of a month (when the Ds would be cancelled if I had not acquired another in the meantime and cancelled all three by bending over in the gym). I was a little apprehensive, but I was also quite pleased with myself for having got one more D than Bowood.
We set out for the river at about half past two. The walk only took ten minutes, but we were determined not to be late. The risky part of the journey was the crossing of the pedestrian bridge. When we got to it, we looked in all directions and then made a dash for it. Fortunately, we were not seen and, once safely across the river, we were able to continue the walk behind a line of trees. We got to the pavilion with about twenty minutes to spare. Those were the longest twenty minutes of my life. It was not that I was afraid of being caught. I was much more afraid of Bowood's reaction if Lucy did not appear. As the clock on the top of the pavilion struck three I looked around, desperate for my cousin to come into sight. But she was nowhere to be seen. By five past Bowood was getting restless.
"It doesn't look like she's going to show up. Come on, let's go back."
"Give it another five minutes Bowood. She may have got held up."
He grudgingly agreed. Those five minutes seemed to pass in a flash. There was still no sign of her. I knew we couldn't stay any longer. We both, rather sadly, stood up (we had been on a bench) and turned back in the direction of the bridge. We had only got a couple of yards before I heard the most wonderful sound from behind us.
"Hey Jim", it was Lucy's voice, "sorry we're late, but we had to dodge a couple of prefects."
I turned. Sure enough, there was Lucy running towards us and slightly out of breath. Just behind her was another girl. I didn't immediately take her in, however. I was far too keen on the meeting between Bowood and Lucy going well. I knew that pupils at the girls' school were allowed to wear home clothes at the weekends and I was pleased to note that Lucy was again wearing a very tight pair of jeans and a rather clinging blouse. I looked at her with new eyes. It suddenly dawned on me that she really was a very attractive girl. She reached us in a second or two and I immediately introduced her to my hero.
"Hi Lucy, this is Bowood Minor."
Bowood stepped forward, proffering his hand.
"But you can call me Chris".
It must seem strange to modern readers, but I swear that that was the first time I heard Bowood's first name being used. I remember wondering if I would ever reach the dizzy heights of being allowed to call him Chris.
I had still not taken any notice of the other girl. But Lucy stopped me from appearing too rude by introducing us.
"Jim, meet Caroline. Caroline, this is Jim and his friend Chris".
We all shook hands and I then looked at Caroline properly. I certainly liked what I saw. She, too, was wearing tight blue jeans. Her legs were long and slim, rising to the most wonderfully proportioned and firm looking round bottom. Her shirt was tight enough to show the two budding breasts. They were still small, but they were definitely beginning to take shape. Her face was slightly freckled, but there were no spots and no make up. Her hair was dark brown and fashionably short. When she smiled, there were the most delightful dimples in her cheeks.
Conversation between the four of us was somewhat stilted to start with. Someone commented on the weather. We all agreed that it was pleasant for the time of year. Then there was a long pause, followed by Caroline and me both starting to speak at the same time. I stopped. She stopped. I said that she should continue. She said I should. Then we all laughed and Bowood broke the ice by suggesting that we should go exploring further up the river.
We set off along the path by the river bank. It was not wide enough to allow us all to be abreast of each other. I stood back and let Bowood and Lucy go ahead. Caroline was beside me. We talked a bit about our homes and families. She had one brother and two sisters. The brother was younger than her and would be coming to Belhampton in another three years. The sisters were older and were both at the girls' school. She lived in Gloucestershire, on a farm. I said that must be marvellous and she responded by saying she really wished she lived in London, like me.
In the occasional pauses in our conversation I looked ahead to see how Bowood and Lucy were getting on. They seemed, to my eyes, a perfect couple. Bowood was a couple of inches taller than Lucy. They were both slim and fit looking. Bowood had taken his jacket off. His trousers, as all schoolboys' trousers were in those days, were very close fitting. The outline of his slim, firm buttocks was clearly visible. I wondered whether Lucy was into boys' bums. I hoped she was, because I didn't think that Bowood's could be faulted.
We rounded a bend in the river and there, ahead of us, was a large area of common land. We walked onto it and found a sheltered spot where we sat on the grass for a rest. The conversation became general.
Lucy spoke first.
"I hope there aren't any prefects about this afternoon. We'd get into awful trouble if we were caught sitting here with two boys. What do you reckon we'd get Caroline?"
"Two weeks close gaiting at the least I'd say. What about you boys?"
Bowood sounded nonchalant in the extreme as he answered "oh, probably six with the cane, but it would be worth it."
"Gosh, do you get the cane?" Caroline was impressed. "I get spanked at home, but I bet the cane is much worse."
Now it was my turn to become excited at the thought of a girl being walloped. Caroline was lying on her side and I could see the shape of her bottom very clearly. It was, I thought, eminently spankable.
Bowood continued with the topic. "I don't mind admitting that the cane is pretty painful, especially when you get it from my bro. He's captain of our house and he's one of the hardest swishers in the school. But at least it's over and done with quickly. I'd really hate to be close gaited for two weeks."
"I agree", this was Lucy, "I'd much rather have six with a hairbrush than a close gaiting. But I'm not sure I could take the cane."
Bowood was sure that it would be quite wrong to cane girls. But he could see that it was a bit unfair not to give them the choice of a whacking of some sort, rather than making them stay in school buildings for two weeks.
Things moved pretty fast from then on. It seemed no time at all before Bowood was asking for a demonstration of how Lucy was spanked at home. He sat on a nearby bench and asked her to pretend he was her father. She giggled, got up and lay herself across his knee. I could see he was longing to rest his hand on her bottom. But he was clearly unsure as to what the reaction would be.
"Go on, give me a smack", she said.
His eyes lit up as he raised his hand and brought it down sharply, but not too hard, on her pert bottom. He allowed his hand to rest there for a few moments before she gently eased herself off his knee.
"OK Chris," she said, "I don't see why you should have all the fun. Bend over like you do for a caning and I'll give you a smack."
He was delighted to oblige. He took up the familiar schoolboy's position and, not for the first time, I thought how perfect his bottom was for corporal punishment. Lucy took a swing at it. The smack actually looked rather harder than the one he had given her. She clearly did like boys' bums, I thought, as she also allowed her hand to rest on the proffered buttocks.
I did not want to be left out of this game. Fortunately, Caroline also thought it looked fun. She willingly placed herself over my knee and I gave her a really wonderful slap on the bottom. I could feel the warmth through the jeans. I could also feel a rising between my legs. The smack she gave me as I touched my toes was quite a stinger, but I just loved the way she caressed my bottom afterwards.
That was as far as it went that afternoon. The girls had to get back to tea and we were due back for a house meeting at four thirty. We said our goodbyes (with pecks on the cheek) and arranged to meet again, at the same place, on the following afternoon.
Bowood and I were both elated as we headed back to the bridge. That was our undoing. We didn't take a good enough look around before crossing it. Had we done so, we would have seen Bowood Major on the other side. He was clearly not as distracted as us. He called our names before we had got to the other side.
He asked us what we had been doing. His younger brother answered first.
"We just dashed over for a dare. Sorry bro."
Bowood Major was suspicious. He cross examined us, trying to get us to confess to something more serious. He suggested that we might have met some girls. But we stuck to our story. The schoolboy's code of honour does not require a boy to own up unless failure to do so could get someone else into trouble. Eventually, he had to give up. He could only punish us for being out of bounds. We knew what that punishment would be before sentence was passed. It was well known throughout the school. Sure enough, we got back to School House with two more Ds each.
So, now I was going to have my first prefect's caning. I had four Ds. Bowood had three. Though neither of us was looking forward to what would happen that evening, we were both sufficiently pleased with the afternoon's activities not to allow our fate to bear down too much on us. I was conscious that I had more cause to be worried than Bowood Minor did. Four Ds meant four strokes of the cane. He would only get three. But I was so pleased with my new relationship with him that I was quite philosophical about the impending punishment.
We were called down to the gym later that evening. A prefect called Tranter came to get us. We walked with him down the long corridor. He, I knew, would witness the canings. He did not look upset about that. When we got to the gym he told us to wait outside and he went in alone. A moment later, the door opened and he spoke to us.
"As you seem to be co-conspirators, Bowood Major has decided that you can both come in at the same time. In you come."
He held the door open for us. I went through first. By now, I was considerably concerned about what I would shortly be enduring. My palms were sweating. My heart was racing. My stomach was churning. But, despite it all, I still took some pleasure in the knowledge that I was actually going to watch Bowood Minor being swished. I hoped I would get it first, so that I was not having to worry while watching Bowood bending over. My wish was granted.
Bowood Major was standing in the middle of the gym, still wearing his rugby kit and looking horribly muscular and fit. He had a long thin cane in his right hand which he was swishing through the air as he spoke to us.
"Right Rushton. You have four Ds. Do you know what that means?"
"Yes Bowood Major. Four strokes of the cane."
"Quite right. And you, little bro, I needn't ask you what your three Ds mean, need I?
"No, three of your best".
"OK, Rushton, as you're getting more, you can be first. See those chalk marks on the floor". He pointed to two white marks about six feet in front of him. "Place your feet on them and bend over. You can clutch your ankles, but you must not bend your knees."
I followed the instructions, my legs feeling decidedly shaky. Looking between them I saw Tranter approaching me. He gently pulled my jacket tails clear of my bottom. Then he patted my bottom, to make sure there was no padding. I could see he was smiling as he felt the warmth of my flesh through the thin school trousers. Having satisfied himself that I was ready for the beating, he stepped back and Bowood Major came into view. He walked slowly towards me and tapped my bottom with the cane, presumably to take aim. Then he took three strides back and raised the cane above his shoulder. At that point I shut my eyes.
I heard the steps forward and the swish of cane through the air. I heard the immense crack as it landed. A split second later I felt the most intense pain I had ever suffered in my young life. But I stayed firmly in place, opened my eyes and watched Bowood Major retreating again. This time I watched the first part of the run up. My bottom was already incredibly sore. I dreaded what it would feel like in a second. And I was right to do so. The cane came crashing down, just above where the first stroke had landed. It seemed to me that the paid was four times, not just twice, as bad as it had been after the first stroke.
I gripped my ankles all the tighter. I kept my eyes shut. Then I blinked a few times, just to stop them watering. I kept them open throughout for the third. I could see that Bowood Major was actually smiling as he delivered the stroke. "Still", I thought, "I expect I'd do the same in his place." I was amazed at how much more pain I was in after the third. I had thought that it couldn't get worse than it was already. But it felt as though a red hot poke was being pressed against my flesh. And there was another to come. I tried biting my lower lip. I sank my finger nails into my ankles. But my bottom was still in agony.
I couldn't watch the last stroke. I just had to concentrate on staying in place and not screaming out. Somehow I managed. As I waited for the order to stand I wondered how I had ever thought that being caned by my old prep school headmaster had been painful. This was in a wholly different league. When, at last, Tranter, whose job this was, told ne to stand, any desire I had to disguise my pain left me. I gratefully grabbed my throbbing bottom with both hands and jumped high into the air. I was still rubbing like mad as Bowood Minor stepped forward and I went to where he had been standing. He stepped firmly onto the chalk marks and slowly bent down. Until Tranter pulled the jacket up, I could only see the lower half of his bottom. Then I saw it all. My heart missed a beat as I once again marvelled at the perfection of it. My own pain was still intense, but now I had something else to occupy my mind.
For this caning I would watch everything. I just couldn't believe the amount of force Bowood Major put into the first stroke. I could actually see the cane digging into the flesh of my friend's bottom. It seemed extraordinary to me that any thirteen year old boy could remain in position when such force was applied to his rear. But I had done it and now Bowood Minor was doing it. As the second stroke landed he did seem to jerk forward an inch, but his feet stayed firmly on the white marks. The cane had now left two thin lines across the seat of his trousers. They were less than half an inch apart, right across the centre of his bottom. Bowood Major strode back for the run up for the last stroke. He stood for a thirty seconds or so, letting the pain really sink in I supposed. Then he lurched forward, cane high in the air, and brought it down with as much force as he had for the first two. Again, his younger brother stayed absolutely still. I knew the agony he must have been in and the temptation he must have had to jump up straight away. But he knew the rules. His brother, Tranter and (I have to confess) I gazed admiringly at the outline of the freshly caned buttocks. Then, at last, Tranter gave the command to stand. Bowood Minor did not do the leap I had done, but he did grab his bottom in just the same way. I looked into his eyes. They, as mine had done at the same point, were watering slightly. But he still managed a smile at his brother.
"Well up to standard bro", he said, and gave me a wink.
"OK, off you go you scallywags", said Bowood Major, "I'm sure you're longing to inspect the damage."
We headed for the door. Once out of the gym we ran, both clutching our bottoms, in the direction of the changing rooms. Once inside, we both hurriedly undid our trousers and pulled them down. Our underpants followed in an instant. I craned my neck round to look at my stripes. They were an incredibly vivid red colour. I stroked them with my hand and felt that they were raised. Then I looked at Bowood Minor's bottom. I had seen it before after a caning, but then I had been one of several boys getting a viewing. I felt a thrill as I took in that there were only the two of us in the room. His stripes were as vivid as mine, thought there were only three to my four. Once again, I could not help being incredibly impressed by his brother's ability with the cane. We both stood in awe, gazing at each others bottoms. Then I spoke.
"Blimey Bowood, your bro really knows how to swish a boy, doesn't he?"
"He sure does. By the way, you can call me Chris if you want. Can I call you Jim".
I had made it! From then on we were Chris and Jim and I never looked back.
"I've never seen my bro caning another boy before. Of course, I've seen him practising on a cushion at home in the hols. But it's quite different watching the real thing. It was awesome. You took it really well. You might like to know, by the way, that he told me over the hols that your bum looked one of the best for swishing of all the new boys. He certainly put everything he had into it."
As we walked back to Junior Study to show off our stripes to the other boys, we talked about our plans for the next day. Our punishments, I regret to say, had not in the least put us off from breaking the rules again, although we resolved to be more careful on our return journey.
"I thought, after this afternoon, that I would wank myself silly tonight" said Chris. "But I reckon it might be worth saving it till tomorrow. I mean, we got so far today, we might get even further tomorrow. It would be a bit of a pity to have used up all the ammunition tonight."
"You're not really going to try to screw Lucy are you?"
"Don't worry, I'm not going to defile your beautiful cousin, much as I'd like to. I just thought that, if we get a little bit further tomorrow, it might be good to have a wank straight afterwards. You know, behind those trees at the other end of the common."
This was just amazing. I could not believe my good fortune. I did not imagine that any other boy had actually been invited to have a private masturbating session with Chris. I was in seventh heaven.
"Good idea, Chris. I'll do my best to resist temptation tonight."
I succeeded, but it was very difficult. Before going to bed I got another viewing of Chris's bottom, and he of mine. As I got between the sheets I was already as stiff as ever. But, somehow, I kept my hands off it and, eventually, it subsided.
We met the girls on the Sunday afternoon. We told them what had happened the previous evening. They were both impressed by our stoicism. But they were even more impressed when we offered to show them the stripes. Neither, of course, had ever seen anything as bad. True, I had once, at the beginning of the holidays, shown Lucy some very faded stripes acquired at my prep school. But they were nothing compared to what she was now seeing. Caroline had seen nothing worse than her younger brother's bottom after a parental spanking. She gasped in horror when she saw my bottom. Then, to my delight, I felt her soft hand gently stroking it.
Chris, I could tell, was in the same state of excitement as I was as Lucy started stroking his bottom. We both had to pull our trousers up quickly so that the girls didn't see. When the time for their departure came (we had said we would wait for a while so they were not seen walking back with us) the kisses were on the lips and arms were entwined around bodies. Caroline allowed her hands to fall to my bottom and she held the flesh firmly. I did the same to her, wondering whether the time would ever come when she would drop her knickers for me. Lucy and Chris were doing the same. Then the girls went. When they were both out of sight, we dashed to the privacy of the trees.
I think I was very mixed up as I undid my trousers again. Part of me was excited about Caroline and what I might be able to do with her. But I could not, also, get my mind off Chris, his caning and what he was doing now. We watched each other unashamedly as we both began to pump. I think, like me, he did not want any other _s_e_x_ual activity between us. But I am sure that, like me also, he was getting pleasure from watching his best friend in action.