There is a lot of nonsense written and spoken about the innocence of boyhood. It tends to take two extremes. First, there are the romantics who assume that boys, unless corrupted by their elders, live in a wonderland world of total innocence. Then, there are those who take the opposite view and deem all boys, from a very early age, to be naturally wicked and perverse. The former have clearly never listened in to the playground conversations of schoolboys, from as young as ten or eleven. If they had, they would have been horrified by the disgusting nature of some of the fantasies (usually about girls) with which young boys constantly regale each other. The latter must have conveniently forgotten what it was like to go through the totally bewildering experience of growing from boy into youth into man. There are few boys, indeed, who, while making that terrifying journey, do not strive, often with some success, to make nobility and honour the victors over nastiness and cruelty.
This is the history of a relationship between two boys and how it developed in their first two years of secondary school. They met on their first day at Longhampton Grammar School for Boys. Both were eleven years old. Both had performed well in the eleven plus examination in order to get one of the few coveted places at the school (one of very few left after years of Socialist "reform"). Both were conscious of the chances in life they were being given by being able to attend such a high achieving school. But both were also nervous about the strange new life on which they were embarking. As with generations of schoolboys before them, they had listened to endless lectures from their fathers about how schools had changed over the years. School masters (and there were even school mistresses now) were kind and understanding. Bullying by older boys was a thing of the past. Corporal punishment had long been abolished (although at this point both fathers allowed a note of regret to enter their voices). School, the boys had been assured, would be much more like a holiday camp than the penal institutions of the old days. The boys knew that there was a lot of truth in what they had been told. But they also guessed that they knew a little more about the ways of boys than their fathers had remembered. The authorities might be more aware of bullying, and the need to stamp it out, than they had been in the past. Overt bullying might now be more rare. But the boys had no illusions. Both fully expected to have to cope with physical and verbal bullying in their early years at Longhampton. True, canes were now history. But the boys doubted whether most school masters had now become paragons of patience and virtue. They might not feel the lash of the cane, but they were sure that the lash of the tongue would still be put to good use.
And, on top of all this, although they were not yet so aware of it, there would be the extraordinary changes in their own bodies over the next few years which would, you can be sure, play havoc with the boys' lives. The romanticists will no doubt be distressed to learn this, but Andrew and Oscar had both already become aware of strange new feelings manifesting themselves at the oddest of times. Not, it has to be said, with the frequency they would later encounter, but more and more, their penises would begin to harden and their thoughts turn to subjects which had hitherto meant little to them. Often, those subjects made sense. They knew perfectly well, for instance, that it was entirely natural to become excited at a glimpse of an attractive girl's breasts or buttocks and, when that sometimes happened, they took it in their stride (and had already begun to boast of their feelings to others). But there were other things that triggered the same reaction and about which neither boy dared speak. Why, each had begun to wonder, should play wrestling with other boys sometimes lead to that hardening? And why, of all things, should the aftermath of a spanking at home occasionally bring on the same reaction? But, by that first day at Longhampton, these were only rare stirrings in largely as yet unawakened bodies.
Andrew was one of the first boys to arrive at the school on that chilly Tuesday morning in September. Boys were expected to be in their classrooms by 8.15 in the morning. Andrew, terrified of being late, had got an early train and was waiting outside the school gates at 7.30. In future, the gates would be open by then, as he would discover, to enable boys to do early morning detentions. But, on the first day of term, they would not open until 7.45. He stood, shivering slightly, in his smart new uniform of grey trousers, dark blue blazer, white shirt and red and black striped tie. His dark hair had been cut short, at his father's insistence, on the previous Saturday. It was neat and properly combed. His black shoes were shiny from constant polishing in the days leading up to the end of the holidays. He was of average height with a slim and athletic body. As he stood alone, for a few moments, he gazed up in awe at the imposing Victorian edifice beyond the gates. But he was not alone for long. Another boy, clearly also new, was walking from the bust stop up the road. You could tell he was new because his uniform, also, was pristine. His shirt was tucked in, his tie was properly tied and his shoes were shining in the early sun. He was about the same height as Andrew and was also slim and athletic in appearance. But his hair was blond and his eyes blue. He was Oscar. He joined Andrew at the gates.
The two boys eyed each other nervously. Each was sure that the other was also new, but neither was eager to risk the appalling blunder of daring to speak to someone who might just be a second former. A couple of moments passed in embarrassed silence. It was Andrew who then decided to take the risk.
"Excuse me", the politeness was insurance against finding that his companion was not new, "do you know what time they open the gates, you see I'm new here?".
A look of relief came over Oscar's face. "So am I. I think the letter said that they would be open at 7.45. So only another eight minutes to go. What's your name. Mine is Oscar Randall."
"I'm Andrew Parton. Do you live far from here?"
"No, it's just three stops on the bus. What about you?"
"We live in Shorthampton. So it's ten minutes on the train. Not too bad really. I think I'll try a later train tomorrow. Which Primary did you go to?"
"St Michael's."
"Oh yes, we played you at cricket and soccer. I was at St John's in Shorthampton. Isn't St Michael's quite strict?".
"Yeah, Nosy Thompson (that's what we called the head) could be quite fierce. You know, detentions for being late for homework and shouting at you for having long hair. What was St John's like?"
"Probably about the same, except they went in for reports home more than detentions. That way the teachers didn't have to do extra work and they could leave the punishing to our dads. That was OK for some of the lads, whose dads didn't really care, but it was a bit tough on the rest of us. Were you in the cricket eleven last term?"
"Yeah, I opened the batting most games. I think I remember you. Aren't you a spin bowler?"
"That's right. I remember now, you were a real menace. Didn't you stay in for something like fifteen overs."
"Sure did, but you got me in the end. I was caught at slips. That was a really good match. Of course, we wanted to win, but I think it was right that it ended up a draw."
The friendship had begun. Other boys, mostly new, were now turning up, but Andrew and Oscar no longer had to worry about talking to the newcomers and risking a snub from a second former. They chatted on happily to themselves. They discovered that they had played soccer against each other as well, and soon they were reliving many sporting successes. Then a janitor appeared and the gates opened. Inside, there was a notice board with a sign directing new boys to their respective classrooms. Andrew and Oscar were both in 1A, and so they walked together across the playground, through the heavy oak doors and along the corridor to their classroom.
There were twenty boys in 1A. Each desk had a card with a boy's surname printed on it. Andrew and Oscar searched for their desks. They quickly realised that the names were in alphabetical order and soon tracked down theirs. They were both secretly delighted to see that they were next to each other. Now they looked around at their new class mates. This, of course, was easier than being outside the gates because everyone in the room would be sure to be in the same position. Introductions were soon being made and the room was a hum of conversation when Mr Charlton, the form master, entered.
"Quiet boys, to your desks and stand until told to sit."
The room fell silent as they all rushed to their places.
"In future, you will be in your places when I come in and you will immediately stand until told to sit. All right, sit down now."
They sat. He continued.
"My name is Mr Charlton. You will address me, and all masters, as Sir. Female teachers are Ma'am. You will be addressed by your surnames but, in a spirit of modernity, you may, should you wish to, address each other by your first names." And so the introduction to school life continued.
Whether Andrew and Oscar would have become such firm friends if it had not been for their chance arrival before the gates opened, I don't know. I suspect they would because they shared the same outlook on life and had the same interests. Anyway, there is no doubt that their first day meeting did at least serve to hasten the process of making friends. During morning break on that first day, and after lunch and during afternoon break, they continued their earlier conversations and played together. By the middle of the week, they were talking of arranging sleep overs at each other's homes. Parents would, of course, have to be persuaded. Oscar said he would have the first go with his. In the meantime, they arranged to spend Saturday afternoon, after morning school, playing together in the town's park. With any luck, the sleep over would be confirmed by then and they would be able to go together to Oscar's home.
On the Friday morning, Oscar prevailed. His mother agreed that his new friend could spend Saturday night with them. On Friday evening, Andrew talked his own mother into letting him go to Oscar for a night. That evening, he packed a small bag with pyjamas, tooth brush, jeans, trainers, T shirt and jersey and went to bed thinking of the fun he would have after school on the following day. When morning school was over, the boys rushed to the park. There was an adventure playground there for which they were still not too old. They climbed to dizzy heights on the castle shaped climbing frame and swung like Tarzan on ropes. When they grew tired of that, they ran to the cafe, by the bowling green, and hungrily ordered chips and cokes. They took them to a table outside and sat together. After the first few mouthfuls, eaten in silence, Oscar, who had something on his mind that he knew he had reveal to Andrew, falteringly began.
"Look, Andy, there's something you ought to know before we go home. Well, it's all a bit embarrassing really. You see, last night my little sister was being a real pain and, well, I sort of beat her up a bit. Not", he hastened to say, "like you'd beat up a boy. I mean I only twisted her arm a bit and that sort of thing. You know, just the kind of fighting that boys do all the time without getting all worked up. But she's not a boy and she went and sneaked on me to Mum and she told Dad when he got back from work, which was after I had gone to bed. Anyway, when I got up this morning I knew I'd be for it. Sure enough, Dad gave me a real bollocking over breakfast, but then he said he was in too much of a hurry to get to work and I'd have to have my punishment when he got back tonight. There's no way you wouldn't find out if you're there in the house with us, so I just thought I'd better warn you and, well, it'd be really kind of you if you didn't tell anyone at school about it. I mean, can it be our secret?"
"Course it can. Anyway, why are you worried. Everyone gets into trouble sometimes. It's no big deal."
"Well" Oscar continued nervously, "the thing is that Dad's a bit old fashioned and, well, the trouble is he still believes in whacking. I don't know what the other boys would reckon if they knew I still get my bum whacked at home. So you really will keep it secret, won't you?"
Andrew was aware of that funny feeling that sometimes came on when he thought of being spanked himself. He wasn't, he was pleased to note, going hard. But he definitely was unusually excited by the turn the conversation was taking. There was something else. He, just like Oscar (and, if only they had realised it, like many other new boys at Longhampton), had been similarly embarrassed that his father continued to smack him when he was naughty. He did actually guess that he was not alone in this, but he also guessed that revealing it could lead to endless teasing. The difficulty was that, because of the funny feelings he got, he did actually want to be able to talk about spankings to other boys. Now, at last, he had found someone with whom he could do just that.
"OK, it's a solid secret. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that. So long as you keep a secret of mine as well."
"Course I will", said Oscar now mightily relieved, "what is it?"
"My dad still whacks my bum as well."
"Wow, really? That's fantastic. I mean, it's not fantastic for you, obviously, but it's great to know I'm not alone. This is brilliant. It means we can tell each other when our dads go ballistic."
Oscar, you must understand, was also subject to funny feelings when thinking of spankings. And he, also, had been eager to find a soul mate with whom he could discuss the fascinating subject in safety. Now he lost no time.
"Do you ever get it bare?"
"It's the only way my dad knows", said Andrew, "he can get the tightest jeans down in seconds. He's a real expert I'm afraid."
"Mine too. And he's got the hardest hand in town I reckon. Still, that's not the worry today?"
"Why not?" asked Andrew breathlessly. There definitely was the beginning of a hardening now.
"He's always said that as soon as I was at Longhampton Grammar he would start using a slipper instead. So I reckon that's what I'm going to get tonight?"
"Bloody hell, Oscar, that's amazing. God, I bet the slipper really hurts. Will it still be bare?"
"I don't know for sure. But we'll find out soon enough. Do you get it across your dad's knee, or do you have to bend over for it like in schools in the olden days?"
"He's always trying to persuade me to take my own trousers and pants down and bend over a chair for it, but I reckon it would be wimpish not to put up a fight. It's tempting sometimes, cos he always says he won't give me as many if I co-operate. But I don't see why he should have it easy."
"Same with me", said Oscar, "I always try to get a few kicks in at his shin when he's pulling my trousers down. Not that I usually succeed. But it's great when one connects, even if I end up with extra whacks."
As they chatted on Oscar almost managed to forget his nerves about facing the dreaded slipper for the first time, so pleased was he with his discovery that he was not alone amongst eleven year old boys in still being walloped for misdemeanours. Once they had finished their chips and coke, Andrew suggested a race to the other side of the park. He said he would give Oscar a five second start and see if he could catch him and do a rugger tackle on him. Oscar raced off. Andrew counted to five in about two seconds and ran after his new friend. He knew he was a faster sprinter and was likely to catch Oscar, but he ran with even greater determination than usual. He hadn't thought it out. There was no great plan. But something was driving him on. He desperately wanted to wrestle with Oscar, to feel his friend's legs entwined round his, to roll together down the sloping field and lie side by side, exhausted after the tussle. There was still about two hundred metres to go when he finally was within reach. He lunged forward and grabbed Oscar's thighs with both hands. He pulled him down and fell on top of him. Both were tired from the run but their adrenalin was up and the wrestling started in earnest. Oscar rolled to one side, onto his back. Andrew rolled after him. Soon, he was pinning Oscar to the ground, sitting on his stomach and holding his shoulders down. But Oscar was not going to give up. With a superhuman effort he pushed his right shoulder free and forced Andrew onto his side. Andrew's right hand was now pinned under Oscar's weight, but his left hand was free. He grabbed hold of Oscar's jacket from behind and tried to pull him back. But the jacket came free in his hands. He pushed it aside and made another lunge with his left hand. This time lower down. He had got hold of Oscar's trousers. But there was no grip. They were tight round the boy's bottom. Then he did what, subconsciously, this was all about. He raised his hand and brought it down with a sharp slap on the firm, sl! im buttocks. And they certainly were firm. There was no flabby fat. He could feel the slightly rounded shape and the warmth of the flesh through the thin trousers. Then he felt a slap on his own bottom as Oscar retaliated. By now they were facing down the hill and the combination of the struggle and gravity started them rolling together towards the hedge at the bottom of the hill. Their legs were wound reach other. On each roll, as one of the young bottoms was uppermost, the other boy would raise his hand smack it firmly. Finally they came to a stop and exhaustion took over. Helplessly giggling, they lay side by side, face down, exhilarated by their struggle. Neither was keen to rise too quickly. Not just because of tiredness, but also because both their penises were now harder and larger than usual.
"Does your bum sting?" Andrew asked as he felt the warmth of his own bottom with his right hand.
"Certainly does, but nowhere as much as it's going to later this evening?"
"What time does your dad get home?"
"Quite early on Fridays, usually about 6.30. But he'll have a drink before he whacks me. So I'll probably get it about 7."
"How many do you reckon you'll get?"
"I don't know. When it was just smacking it was always between three and six, depending on what I'd done. He's always been hard on me for hitting Julie. It would definitely have been six in the smacking days. But it's anyone's guess what it'll be with the slipper."
"Does he do it in your room or somewhere else?"
"It's always in my room. Usually, if I'm going to get it when he comes back to work, I just wait in my room for him to come up. That way I don't have to see Julie gloating about it, especially if I'm getting it for beating her up. At least I don't have to worry about that today cos she's doing a sleep over at one of her friend's houses. But I suppose we're going to have to make a plan for where you will be. I don't suppose you'd really want to be downstairs with Mum. I could see that that could be a bit embarrassing for you."
"Yeah. Maybe I could go out for a bit and just come back when it's all over?"
"That's one idea. But wouldn't you like to be somewhere where you can hear it?"
"Well, I s'pose that would be quite cool. I mean, if you don't mind."
"Course I don't. It won't be like having your irritating little sister listening and grinning from ear to ear every time she hears a whack landing. You're a mate. Anyway, your dad whacks you as well, so it'll be fine for you to listen, I'm sure you'd do the same for me if it was you getting it. OK, here's my plan. Mum wants us home for tea at 5. Tea'll be finished at about 5.30. Then we can watch telly till Dad gets back. Like I said, he'll have a drink first. I'll introduce you to him and then I'll say we're going upstairs to play on the computer. Dad'll probably say something like he needs to see me on my own in half an hour in my room. And I'll say that's OK because we can play on Julie's computer for a while. So, when we hear Dad's footsteps on the stairs, I'll go to my room and you stay in Julie's. It's right next door to mine, so you couldn't be closer. We'll open my window when we first get upstairs and you can open Julie's window too. Then, if you stand by the window, you'll hear everything as if you were in the same room. Is that cool, or what?"
"So cool it's frozen. That's really kind of you. I've never heard a boy getting the slipper before, it should be really interesting."
Both boys were now conscious of the need to change the subject, if only so that they could stand up without revealing their state of excitement. So they got on to another topic familiar to schoolboys of their age: the totally appalling burden of homework which they would have to do before the weekend was out. Eventually, each found that he had calmed down and they stood up and brushed themselves down. Oscar recovered his blazer and they set off for their tea appointment.
Oscars' parents' house was in a typical Victorian terrace. The main rooms downstairs had been knocked into one large sitting room. They had built on another room at the back, which was the dining room and there was also a fairly large conservatory. Upstairs, there were five bedrooms, Oscar's own, his parents', Julie's and two spare rooms. Mrs Randall had opened the door to them. She seemed, to Andrew, to be a pleasant, rather homely woman of (of course) great age: she was in fact only 35. She was wearing an apron, having just been baking a cake. She greeted Andrew warmly, saying how much she had heard about him from Oscar. She said tea would be ready in five minutes, and perhaps the boys would like to go and change out of their uniforms.
"I thought Andrew could sleep in the small spare room, darling", she said to Oscar.
"Oh come on Mum, there's no point in having a friend for a sleep over unless he can have the other bunk in my room."
"But, darling, you'll never get to sleep if you're in the same room. You know you'll just chat all night."
"No we won't Mum, I promise. Anyway, it's only Sunday tomorrow. It's not as if it's a school day. Please Mum, do let Andrew share my room."
Mrs Randall, as she often did with her beloved son, gave in.
"Well, I suppose, as it's Saturday, we might risk it. But if you do stay awake half the night, I won't give in again."
"Oh thanks Mum, you're a real star".
"Right you are, take Andrew up and when you've both got changed come straight down again".
Andrew's room was large and airy. There were bunk beds on the right, a desk, shelves and a wardrobe on the left and two chairs by the window (which was straight ahead as you went in through the door. Oscar noticed that the bottom bunk, which was usually unmade, had in fact been made up during the day. He smiled to himself as he thought that his mother must have realised she would give in to his inevitable demand that his friend sleep in his room.
"OK, Andy, let's get into jeans and T shirts. I'm getting hungry again."
The boys took off their blazers and, as boys of their age were inclined to do, threw them casually on the chairs by the window. Then both removed their ties and shirts. Shoes were next and, finally, trousers joined the untidy heaps of clothes on the chairs. Both were wearing boxer shorts which hung loosely over their slim bottoms. But, as Oscar bent to pull his jeans on, Andrew could see the clear outline of Mr Randall's target for that evening. Of course, he had seen Oscar without any clothes on at all before, in the showers after games on Wednesday, but then he had not been about to face the slipper. Andrew again felt that funny feeling in his stomach as he contemplated those slightly round cheeks. But the sight was only there for a moment. Both boys pulled up their tight jeans. They had no need of belts, but Oscar nevertheless went to the cupboard and got one out.
"I don't usually wear a belt with jeans, but it's fun to make Dad's job harder - if he wants to do it bare."
Tea was served in the conservatory. There were scones and a freshly baked cake with orange squash for the boys. Julie had already left to go to her friend's house. So there were just the three of them there. Mrs Randall, who told Andrew to call her Lucy, asked them about how their first week at school had gone and, though conversation was a bit stilted to begin with, they were soon all talking happily. Once tea was cleared away, Oscar said that he and Andrew would watch the television in the sitting room until his father got back. As he said that, a cloud momentarily passed over Lucy's face. She knew that her son had to be punished and that it was for his own good, but she never liked it when her husband spanked the boy, and now she was being reminded of what was going to happen later in the evening.
"All right darling, but you have remembered, haven't you, that Dad would like a private chat with you when he gets back?"
"I'm hardly likely to have forgotten that", he said with a bit of a false grin, "don't worry, Andrew can play on Julie's computer while Dad and I are having our chat."
Although the television was on and the boys were sitting on the sofa facing it, neither was paying that much attention. Oscar, not surprisingly had the familiar feeling of butterflies in his tummy which always came on as the moment of punishment neared. Andrew was surprised to find that he had the same feeling. It was, I suppose, vicarious nerves. Finally, at just after 6.30, they heard the front door opening. They glanced at each other. Andrew gave Oscar a smile of sympathy and the sitting room door opened.
Mr Randall "do call me John" was a tall, slim man of about 40. He was handsome, in a rugged sort of way. Andrew noticed that he looked fit and strong. When he took his jacket off, his shirt sleeves were tight over bulging biceps. Andrew guessed that a whacking from him would be no cup of tea. Oscar performed the introductions. John said how pleased he was to meet Andrew. Then Oscar announced that he and his friend would go and play on the computer.
"OK Oscar, but I would like a few moments alone with you in about half an hour. I hope it won't inconvenience you too much Andrew, it's just that Oscar and I have a little domestic problem to sort out. It won't take long, we've already talked things through, we just need to tie up a few loose ends. You know, dot the Is and cross the Ts."
"It's OK Dad, I've already told Andrew that you want to see me alone later. As Julie's out, we're going to play on her computer. When you're ready I'll just nip next door to my room, then Andrew won't have to be disturbed"
John was pleasantly surprised by his son's demeanour. Normally, if the boy was due a punishment, he sulked and moaned about how unfair it all was. Perhaps, thought John, we should encourage Oscar to bring friends home more often.
The boys went upstairs. First, they went into Julie's room and turned the computer. They also opened her window ("might as well do it now Andy, so Dad doesn't hear it squeak"). Then they went into Oscar's room and did the same.
"I suppose we'd better tidy our clothes before Dad comes up. No point in making him even angrier. Anyway, he's going to need one of the chairs to sit on when he's doing it."
Once the clothes had been folded and put away, they returned to Julie's room. For appearances' sake, they made an attempt at playing computer games, but their hearts were not really in it. Oscar was dreading the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Logic told him that he should want it all over and done with as soon as possible. But, human nature being what it is, he was actually hoping that it would be delayed as long as possible. Andrew, though sympathising fully with his friend, did want to hear the footsteps soon. He still had butterflies in his tummy, and his hands were feeling clammy (just as happened when he was waiting for his own father's attentions), but it has to be said that he was looking forward to Oscar's punishment.
After what seemed to Oscar to be only a few seconds and to Andrew to be hours, they heard the heavy footsteps at the bottom of the stairs. Oscar rose and tightened his belt.
"Might as well give the old man a challenge", he said, as he pulled his stomach in to get the belt on the tightest possible notch.
"Good luck" said Andrew, "I'll be thinking of you".
Giving one last rub to his jeans clad bottom, Oscar opened the door and slipped out. He was in his own room before his father came into sight on the landing.
Andrew walked towards the window and listened intently. His heart was beating madly and the butterflies in his tummy were now even more active. He heard John walk past Julie's door. Then he heard Oscar's door open and then shut again. Then the conversation started. He was surprised that John's voice was not greatly raised, but then he remembered that the telling off had already been given. He held his breath as he listened.
"I'm not going to beat about the bush Oscar. You know how I feel about bullying girls. At least I hope I said enough this morning. I am now going to thrash you."
"Please Dad, I promise I'll be good in future. Anyway, it was all Julie's fault. It's not fair that I'm always the one who gets punished. And she sneaked. I never sneak on her."
"Stop whingeing. You're bigger and stronger than her. Her only defence is to be able to tell your mother or me if you bully her. Now, if you're sensible, take your own jeans and pants down and bend over the back of the chair, I will be lenient. This is your first time with the slipper. I'll only give you two. If I have to put you over my knee, it's going to be three."
"I'm not mad Dad. If you want to whack me, you're going to have to do the work yourself."
Andrew then heard a scuffle. A moment later, John let out a cry of pain.
"You little fiend, you're going to pay for that."
Then a bit more of a scuffle.
"Get your hands off your boxers. They're coming down whether you like it or not.".
Andrew imagined the scene. He assumed, quite rightly, that Oscar's jeans were down and he was placed over his father's knee, desperately trying to keep his boxer shorts on. It was a scene familiar to Andrew himself. Then there was a resounding crack. The first stroke must have been given.
"Ouch" came Oscar's voice through the window. "That hurt Dad. Please, I really will be good".
"It was meant to hurt. That one was for kicking me when I was taking your jeans down. Now for the punishment proper."
Another loud crack. Another screech from the victim. Andrew found himself rubbing his own bottom as he imagined Oscar's pain. Then came the third. The screech which followed it was louder than the last. Finally, the fourth landed. It sounded even harder than the others.
"Bloody hell, Dad".
"If you swear again you'll get another. Now get up and stay out of trouble. I'll leave this slipper here in case it's ever needed again."
Andrew heard the door open and shut again. The footsteps went past Julie's room. Then they went down the stairs. He waited a second, and then slipped out of Julie's room and into Oscar's. His friend was standing with his back to the door, jeans and boxers still round his ankles, furiously rubbing a very scarlet bottom.
"Christ, Andy, four with the slipper's about a hundred times worse than six with the hand. Did you hear it OK?"
"Certainly did, it sounded awesome. Looks pretty bad too."
"I hope you noticed that I didn't cry. OK, I did say ouch a few times. But you have to do that so he knows its hurting, otherwise he'd probably do it even harder."
"Yeah, I thought you were well cool."
Oscar took his hands from his bottom. "Here, have a proper look."
Andrew stepped closer and saw the extent of the damage. The whole of Oscar's bottom was a deep scarlet colour.
"God, it must be agony."
"It's pretty bad, but its getting better all the time. Do you want to put your hand on it? It's really burning hot."
"Wow, thanks Oscar" and Andrew gently placed his right hand across the throbbing bottom. "God, it's scorching. Hang on, I'll go to the bathroom and get a wet flannel to put on it. That's what I always do after a spanking. It really helps to cool it down."
He rushed off and returned in a couple of seconds with a soaking wet flannel.
"If you bend over the back of the chair, I'll hold the flannel on you till your bum cools down".
Oscar did as Andrew had suggested. The flannel was put in place, Andrew feeling the firmness of the buttocks through it. After a couple of minutes Oscar said he was feeling better. He rose and gently pulled his boxers and then his jeans up.
Andrew then noticed the large brown leather slipper which John had left on the desk. He picked it up and felt the hard cold sole.
"Awesome" he said. Then he had an idea. "Hey, would you like to give me a whack with this? Just one, but really hard, so I can see what it's like".
"Cool", said Oscar, taking the slipper from his friend.
Andrew undid his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs. "If you sit on the chair, Ian get over your knee and you can pull my boxers down like your dad does."
Oscar duly sat down and Andrew gently lay himself across his friend's left knee, placing his own legs between Oscar's.
Oscar looked down at the small round bottom, for the moment clad in thin boxer shorts. Then he placed his left hand under the waistband of the boxers. Andrew lifted his bottom up slightly to allow the boxers to be easily pulled down, and Oscar slipped them clear of the waiting bottom. He allowed his hand to rest on the warm, firm flesh for a couple of moments, then he moved his hand up Andrew's back and patted the bottom with the slipper. Next, he raised the slipper well above his head and looked as Andrew's still white bottom tensed for the blow. Finally he swung the slipper down as hard as he could. There was a loud crack followed by a screech of "ouch" from Andrew, whose bottom had turned pink and was beginning to redden. Oscar gently placed his hand on his friend's buttocks and felt how much warmer they now were. Then he lifted his hand again and allowed Andrew to stand. As he did so, he too felt the heat of his bottom with both hands.
"Blimey, I hope my dad doesn't start using the slipper as well. That was well hard Oscar".
"Sorry, I hope I didn't go over the top."
"No way. I wanted to see what it was like and there wouldn't have been any point if you'd been soft. Was it fun? I've never whacked another boy's bum properly."
"Yeah, it was cool. Thanks for letting me do it."
The boys stayed upstairs for another half an hour until they were called down for supper. Oscar was now recovered from his ordeal and was looking forward to more food. John greeted them as they walked into the dining room.
"Good games boys?" he asked.
"Great, thanks Dad" said his son as he gingerly sat on the hard chair.
"Excellent. I'm glad we sorted that other little matter out without too much fuss. Let's hope we don't have any similar problems in the future."
"I'm sure we won't Dad" and Oscar gave a knowing smile to his friend.
The boys went upstairs to bed at about 9.30. Andrew had the first bath and returned to Oscar's room to find him naked and examining his now bruised bottom in the mirror.
"Wicked" said Andrew, with the emphasis on the last syllable. "Does it still hurt?"
"No, it's OK now, just sort of warm feeling. What about yours?".
"It's fine, but I'm glad the mark's still there."
Oscar turned, and Andrew saw that his friend's penis was at that stage when it was clearly beginning to harden up. He felt his own doing the same as he pulled his pyjamas up. Oscar put a towel round his waist and headed for the bathroom. Andrew lay on the bottom bunk and felt his organ hardening by the moment.
Oscar came back in about ten minutes. He was already in his pyjamas. He climbed up to the top bunk. They started making their plans for the morning. A quarter of an hour later, Lucy came in to wish them good night and turn the lights off. They waited for her to go downstairs again and then resumed their whispered conversation.
Oscar was the first to broach the subject.
"Have you ever wanked yet?"
"No. What about you?"
"Not yet. There was a boy at my primary school who used to boast about doing it. I never believed him till he showed us once, on the coach coming back from an away game. It was cool. I mean, not much came out, but you could actually see it throbbing at the end. I thought I might have a go tonight. I mean, you don't want to put these things off till you're too old to enjoy them, do you?".
"I s'pose not. Well, if you're up for it I might try as well. Did you see that girl in the park, the one with the really tight jeans who was buying a coke in the cafe?"
"Yeah, she was cool. How old do you think she was?"
"About sixteen I reckon."
"Mmm, just the right age. I could definitely give her one."
"Me too" said Andrew, and, to keep his mind on the subject that was really exciting him, he continued, "and I wouldn't mind putting her over my knee and giving her a bloody good spanking on the bare bum."
"God, can you imagine grabbing her round the waist, undoing her jeans, pulling them down, putting her over your knee, pulling her knickers down and smacking her pert bum really hard and then lifting her up, lying her down on the floor and giving her one?"
The climax for both of them came all too quickly. But both had enjoyed their first experience. They lay back contented and at peace with the world.
"God that was great" said Oscar after a while. "How often do you think it's OK to do it?"
"I don't really know. I mean, I know that bigger boys do it quite a lot, you know, more than once a week I think. But I suppose we shouldn't do it too much yet. I don't know, but it might sort of slow down puberty or something. But I do think it's a good idea to do it after getting the whack. It's a really cool way of getting your mind off the pain. Also, it means that we won't mind being punished as much if we know we are going to have a wank afterwards."
"That's a well cool idea", said Oscar, "I vote that we agree that we can both have a wank when one of us gets the whack and, as well as that, we can also do it on sleep overs."
"Cool."
For the next couple of weeks there were no sleep overs and both boys managed to keep out of trouble. They saw each other at school, of course. And they usually played together in the park for half an hour or so after school. They made other friends too and there were often enough first year boys to play a decent game of football before it got too dark. At home in the evenings they did their homework, played computer games and watched television. As you will see, their minds were not wholly devoted to their interest in punishment. Nevertheless, both would often think, in an idle moment, of the plan they had made on that first sleep over.
Finally, both sets of parents agreed that Oscar could spend a Saturday night with the Partons. Both boys were excited at the prospect of the night's activities. What is more, as a reward for his recent good behaviour, Andrew was going to be permitted to entertain his guest in the Barn. I should explain a little about the Partons accommodation. They lived on a farm. Christopher Parton was a farmer. The main farm house was a large Edwardian building with seven bedrooms and four reception rooms. In addition, on the opposite side of the farmyard, there was a small converted barn which was generally only used for visitors. It had one bedroom, a sitting room and a bathroom. Andrew had always wanted to be able to spend a night in the Barn, but, until now, his parents had not allowed him to. He was absolutely delighted when his father told him the good news.
On the Friday morning Oscar rose early and packed his regulation jeans and T shirt. Then he came down to breakfast. His father was already there and he was alarmed to see that, on the table beside him, was one of the large brown slippers. The other one, he knew, was still in his room (he had even picked it up and given his bottom a playful wallop with it). He looked in horror at his father, desperately trying to recall what mischief might have been detected.
John smiled. "Don't worry Oscar, this isn't for you. I was chatting to Andrew's father on the 'phone last night and the conversation somehow came round to behaviour and discipline. I mentioned to him that I thought your behaviour had improved a lot since I introduced you to the slipper. He seemed very interested, but said that his own slippers are too soft. Well, I told him that I had no use for this one and said I'd get you to bring it to him when you go for your sleep over. I'm not sure how grateful Andrew will be, but I daresay his father will be pleased."
Oscar grimaced at this little speech but, secretly, he was quite pleased that his best friend was now going to be subject to the same disciplinary techniques as he was. He picked up the slipper and put it into his overnight bag.
Andrew only got to school at the last moment and Oscar did not have a chance to tell him about the slipper until break. He took his bag out with him to the playground and signalled for Andrew to join him behind the bicycle sheds.
"Got some bad news for you I'm afraid Andy", he said as he started to unzip the bag.
"You're still coming to the sleep over aren't you?" Andrew asked anxiously.
"You bet, wouldn't miss it for the world. No, it's not that. Seems that your dad and mine have been talking."
"Yeah, my dad told me he'd had an interesting chat with yours. Didn't tell me what it was about though."
"It was about this", with a flourish Oscar produced the single leather slipper from his bag. "They obviously got talking about how they punish us. Dad told your dad about how he used a slipper on me. Your dad thought that was cool but apparently said that his slippers were too soft. So my dad said he could have this one and told me to bring it with me to your house. Sorry about that. It's really gross of my dad, but I don't see what I can do about it. Especially as your dad will be expecting me to give it to him."
"Aren't adults the pits!", said Andrew. "Still, I don't really mind. I mean, I suppose I am getting a bit too old to be smacked. Dad was bound to start using something else sooner rather than later. And, if he's going to, I'd much rather know I'm getting whacked with the same model as your dad uses on you."
The boys went straight to the station after school. They were eager, knowing that they were to be in their very own house for the sleep over, to get to the farm as soon as possible. The walk from Shorthampton Station to the Partons' farm only took a quarter of an hour, and they arrived safely at 4.30. They found Andrew's younger brother, Paul, sitting alone at an enormous oak table in the kitchen. Andrew performed the introductions. Paul, a healthy and fit looking nine year old, seemed to be a bit glum.
"What's the matter kid?" asked Andrew.
"Dad's the matter. He's just gone upstairs to check that I tidied my room this morning. Obviously I didn't. So it looks like it's bum smacking time again."
As he spoke, Christopher Parton, a large ruddy faced man, opened the door. He was clearly about to address Paul, but stopped short on seeing Andrew and Oscar. "Ah, you must be Oscar, welcome to our humble abode. We'll have a chat in a minute. Right Paul", his voice suddenly became dreadfully stern, "come upstairs and explain to me why you say your room is tidy."
Paul slowly rose. Oscar noticed that his build, though obviously he was smaller, was very much like Andrew's. He was slim and athletic looking. He walked, slowly and dejectedly towards the open door. Oscar couldn't help looking particularly closely at the seat of his tight jeans as he left the room. Christopher followed and shut the door.
"Give them ten seconds", said Andrew, "then we can nip out to the bottom of the stairs and listen."
They waited and then quietly opened the door. The coast was clear and they crept into the hall and stood on the bottom stair. They could make out one side of the conversation only, Paul was obviously talking very quietly.
"Please tell me, is this room tidy?" Then a pause, followed by: "you're quite right. It's not only untidy, it's a filthy mess. Did your mother tell you to tidy it this morning before school?" Another pause. "And you disobeyed her, didn't you?" Another pause. "And what's the punishment for disobedience?" Another pause. "Don't play the fool with me, boy, you know perfectly well what the punishment is." Another pause. "You're bloody right. You certainly will tidy it. But not until I have spanked you very hard." Another pause. Then, at last, Paul's voice could be heard as he cried out.
"Please, please Dad, don't do it. I'll be good for ever and ever". His voice was cut off by a resounding slapping sound. Three more followed. Each was greeted with a wailing cry of "Ouch, please stop Dad".
Then they heard the bedroom door opening and Christopher's parting words to his errant son. "Let that be a lesson to you. You can tidy your room before bed. Come down for tea as soon as you've recovered. And don't forget to apologise to your mother."
Andrew and Oscar silently ran back to the kitchen, shut the door and sat, looking as innocent as they could, at the table. A moment later Christopher came back in, shaking his right hand up and down to relieve the stinging.
"Now, Oscar, I'm delighted to meet you. Andrew never stops talking about you so I feel I know you already. Come on. Let's have some tea."
"Thank you Mr Parton, it looks really great" said Oscar with feeling as he looked at the large spread on the table.
"Do call me Christopher. Oh, by the way, before I forget, your father very kindly said he'd give you something for me. Did he remember?"
"Um, yes. Sorry about this Andy" and he walked over to where he had left his bag on the floor, opened it and withdrew the slipper.
"Splendid, splendid" said Christopher. "That looks just the job". He took the slipper and slapped it down on his left hand. "Yes, absolutely perfect. Can you guess what this is for Andrew?"
"Yes Dad" the boy replied resignedly "it's for whacking me."
"Quite right. Still, with any luck, we won't have to try it out. I suggest you keep it in your room. You can look at it every time you're tempted to misbehave." And he handed it to his son.
A few moments after they had all started tucking in, the door opened and Andrew's mother came in. She was a large ruby faced woman. She grinned widely when she saw Andrew and Oscar.
"At last we meet the famous Oscar. I expect Christopher's told you, Andrew never stops talking about you."
"Yes, thank you Mrs Parton ..."
"No, Jenny, please".
"This tea is just fantastic Jenny. Thank you very much for letting me stay."
"Come along my love, sit down and have something to eat" said Christopher. "Paul will be along in a minute or two. He's just letting his bottom cool down a bit first."
"Oh, you've dealt with him have you? I'm sorry it had to come to that, but I'm afraid he did deserve it. Still, I've made his favourite cake, so that should cheer him up."
Just then the door opened again and a decidedly gloomy looking Paul shuffled in. He went to his seat and then, before sitting down, muttered to his mother, looking at his feet all the while: "I'm sorry about not tidying my room Mum. I promise I'll do it before I go to bed."
"That's OK Paul" his mother cheerfully answered, "I gather Dad's given you a sore bum, so we'll forget about it now. Look, your favourite cake."
Paul looked at the large chocolate cake and, in an instant, his face lit up in a wide smile. "Wicked Mum, that's really cool. Thanks a ton". And he sat down, with a slight wince as his bottom hit the chair seat, and grabbed the mandatory slice of bread and butter which had to precede cake.
After tea Andrew said he would take Oscar to show him the Barn. "You can come too if you want Paul" he added.
Oscar was pleased to hear the invitation being directed to Paul as well. He wouldn't normally have wanted a nine year old to join them, but he was rather keen to get a first hand account of the recent spanking.
As they walked across the farmyard, Andrew spoke to his brother. "Bad luck kid. It sounded like he was on top form."
"Sure was. That was one of the hardest he's ever given me. My bum's still sore even now."
Andrew had the key to the Barn. He unlocked the door and they walked into a very large and inviting sitting room. At the far end was a door which led to the bedroom. Off that, there was the bathroom, with bath and shower. Once Andrew had shown his friend around he turned again to his brother.
"OK Paul, let's have a look".
Paul did not seem in the slightest embarrassed. He undid his jeans, pulled them down, turned round, pulled down his boxers and showed the older boys his bright red bottom.
"See, quite a sight isn't it?" He said as his audience admired his father's handiwork.
As Paul was pulling up his jeans he noticed, again, the large brown slipper which his brother was clutching. He had meant to ask about it before. Now he did.
"What's the use of one slipper Andrew? Anyway, it's much too big for you."
"Oscar's dad's given it to Dad for whacking me with. You remember how I told you about Oscar getting the slipper when I did that sleep over? Well, his dad was telling Dad all about how wicked the slipper is, and Dad thought he'd like to use one on me, only he didn't have a hard enough one. So Oscar's dad said he could have this."
"Cool" said Paul, "well, not cool for you I suppose, but I bet it's a thousand times worse than an ordinary whacking. I'd like to see your bum after six of the best with that. It'll be awesome I should think."
"Well, I expect you'll get your chance one day."
"Hey, why have you got it, and not Dad? Are you trying to hide it from him?"
"Course not, he'd only think of something even worse, like a cane. No, he says I have to keep it in my room so it's always there when he needs to use it. As we're sleeping here tonight, I thought I'd bring it with us. Cos this'll be my room for the night. Not that I'm going to give Dad a chance to use it today."
In fact, Andrew had brought it because he thought it might be fun to play a game with Oscar later, using the slipper as a prop. But he didn't think his brother was old enough to be told about that.
Having seen the accommodation and Paul's bottom, the boys then went out for a tour of the farm. When they got back, Paul said he thought he'd better go and tidy his room and the older boys settled down to watch television in the Barn.
"This is really cool" said Oscar. "I've never stayed in a house without adults before. We should be able to have some real fun later".
"You bet. How would you like a game of Dad and Naughty Son after supper? You could be the dad first, and I'll be the son and then I'll be the dad and you the son. After all, we've got the slipper, might as well have some fun with it. You know, only one or two whacks, but we could make it realistic with fighting to keep jeans on and all that."
"Wicked", again the emphasis on the last syllable. "But I vote for three not one or two. I mean, we're not nearly as strong as our dads, so it won't be as painful as a real punishment, but it'd be much more fun to give three. Don't you think?"
"Fine by me. Come on, let's go and see what's for supper."
Supper was another very large meal. There was an enormous roast chicken, with bacon and sausages and four different vegetables. There were enough roast potatoes to sink a battleship. Then there was a huge trifle and an apple pie as well, with lashings of cream. Oscar could see the attractions of a farmer's life. When the meal had finally been consumed, Paul was sent to bed and the older boys said they would watch some television in the Barn before turning in.
"All right boys", said Jenny, but lights out by 10. Remember, we can see the sitting room window from here. If it's not dark by 10, I'll be straight over to get you into bed. Otherwise, see you in the morning."
It was 9 when they got back to the Barn. There was an Australian programme about lifesavers on a surfing beach and they settled down to watch it. Both made several rather coarse remarks about what they would like to do with the scantily clad girls who were running in and out of the sea. It finished at 5 to 10. They turned the television off, switched the lights out and went into the bedroom (neither was keen for Jenny to pay a visit).
"It's OK here", said Andrew, "they can't see the bedroom lights from the house. They'll think we've gone to sleep. Right, I'll put the slipper on the table. Then we'll have to think of something that I can have done wrong and you can start telling me off. What do you think it should be?"
"Well, it can't be something too bad, otherwise I'd have to give more than three. I know, what about Mr Charlton writing to me and saying that you didn't do some homework? That should be about right for three, especially if you've been given a detention."
"Cool. OK, let's pretend that the bathroom is the hall outside my room. I can be in here and you can come in from the bathroom with the letter in your hand."
So Oscar, taking a piece of paper from the table, went into the bathroom while Andrew sat at the table pretending to do some homework. A minute later, Oscar returned.
"Andrew, I have a letter here from Mr Charlton. Can you guess what it says?"
"No Dad, what is it?"
"I'll tell you in a minute. First, you tell me whether you do your homework every night."
Andrew gave a very realistic impression of a guilty schoolboy as he muttered: "mostly Dad. I mean, it's sometimes too hard."
"Would you kindly tell me", Oscar continued, making use of some recent homework the boys had been given, "whether copying out five pages of Latin text from a book was 'too hard'?"
Andrew looked down at his feet and said "no Dad, but there just wasn't time."
"Would I be right in recalling that this piece of homework, for which there 'wasn't time' was meant to be done on the night that you told me you could watch a James Bond film because you had finished your homework?"
"I suppose it might have been".
"Not might have been, it was that night, wasn't it?"
"Yes Dad".
"Give me one good reason why I should not put you across my knee and thrash the living daylights out of you."
"But Dad, that's not fair. I've already done a detention for it."
"You have not done a detention for lying to me. You did it for not doing your homework. No, there is no alternative. Take your jeans down."
"Take them down yourself. I'm not going to help you be so unfair."
"Right, you're for it young man. I was going to give you only two. Now you're going to get three."
Andrew was sitting on one of the beds. Oscar was standing over him. He suddenly leant forward and pushed his friend back onto the bed, at the same time, realising that, in view of their similar strengths he would need the advantage of position, he hurled himself down across Andrew's chest to keep him down. Then he grabbed the metal button on Andrew's jeans and, scrabbling furiously, managed to get it undone. Next, he tugged hard at the zip and felt it come down. All the time, Andrew was kicking like mad, but their respective positions were such that he could not connect. Oscar then pushed Andrew's chest down with his left hand and slid off the bed himself. With his right hand he yanked at the jeans and gradually managed to pull them down. The next bit was going to be difficult. Somehow, he had to get back onto the bed, in a sitting position and get Andrew across his knee. There was nothing for it. He had to pull Andrew to his feet. He lifted his left hand from the other boy's chest and grabbed both arms with his hands. Then he gave a tremendous yank and got Andrew to his feet. While his victim was still reeling from the sudden movement. He quickly sat down. Andrew was now perfectly positioned, standing just between Oscar's knees. Oscar raised his hands and pushed Andrew's back, hard, so that he collapsed forwards across Oscar's left knee. Oscar then squeezed Andrew's legs between his own. The slipper was just within reach of his right hand. But first he had to get the boxer shorts down. Andrew's hands had flown, as boys' hands do in these circumstances, to his bottom. He was pushing down on his boxer shorts to try to keep them up. But he was fighting a losing battle. Oscar grabbed both hands and pulled them up Andrew's back. He held the wrists tightly with his left hand and, pushed his free right hand between boxer shorts and buttocks. He felt the warmth of Andrew's flesh for a moment as he let his hand rest on the bottom. Then, with one last tug, he got the shorts free of hi! s target. Finally, he leant over and grabbed the slipper.
The scene was now set. Oscar was out of breath. He panted for a moment as he looked down at the perfect, slightly rounded, white bottom. Andrew had given up struggling, but Oscar was still squeezing like mad with his legs, to keep him in position. He smiled as he felt Andrew's hard penis pushing against his inner thigh. His own had also stiffened in the struggle and was pushing hard against the front of his jeans.
It was time for Oscar to say more dad like things.
"By the time I have finished with you, my boy, you won't be sitting down for a week."
"Please, Dad, don't whack me. I promise I'll be a good boy."
"Take that", as he said it he swung the slipper down from a great height and smashed it into the middle of Andrew's bottom.
"Ouch, please Dad, no more"
"And that", another hard blow to the firm young flesh.
"Eek, stop Dad, please".
Andrew's bottom was already red. Oscar paused while he admired it. Then he smashed down again and prompted another howl from the naughty boy. He then threw the slipper onto the bed beside him and allowed his hand to rest on the burning hot flesh.
"Let that be the last time you lie to me about homework, because, if you do it again, I can promise you I will give you six of the best."
"I'll never do it again Dad, I promise."
"Good, now get up". He released Andrew's hands and parted his own legs to let him free. Andrew stayed in position for a moment, merely grabbing his bottom with both hands and rubbing the soreness away. Then he got up, giving Oscar a view of his small, but very erect penis.
Andrew decided, in an instant, that he would take Oscar by surprise. Instead of pulling his jeans and boxers up and embarking on the ritual of the telling off for some imaginary offence, he waited for Oscar to stand and turn to pick up the slipper and return it to the table. Then, suddenly, with Oscar's back to him, he put both his arms round his friend's waist, pulled him into his own body and grappled with the jeans button and zip.
"OK my boy, I'm not going to bother with a telling off. You know perfectly well that what you've done can only lead to a whacking and now you're going to get it."
Oscar was completely taken aback. He felt his jeans coming down before he'd had a chance even to try a kick. Andrew twisted them both round, still gripping Oscar tightly round the waist, and sat on the bed, pulling Oscar after him. Oscar was now sitting on his knees. He suddenly parted them, at the same time pushing the top of Oscar's body to his left. It had the desired effect. Oscar's legs were now between his and his waist was twisted round across Andrew's left knee. Only a little fine adjustment was needed before the classic position was achieved. Oscar was desperately trying to keep a hold on his boxers, but Andrew had no difficulty in pulling the hands free and yanking the shorts down. Now, looking down at the spotless white flesh, he forgot the pain in his own bottom and contemplated what he was going to do to Oscar's. First, he gently stroked it with his right hand. Then, he picked up the slipper, which was still lying on the bed beside him, and patted Oscar's bottom with it. But he didn't want to rush any more. Now, he thought, is the time for the telling off.
"Boys who swear at their mothers deserve only one thing, don't they son?"
"I'm really sorry, Dad, please don't whack me. I promise I'll never do it again."
"I certainly imagine you'll think twice before speaking to your mother like that once I've finished with you. She told me you used three swear words. Is that right?"
"Yes Dad. Please don't. Honestly, I'm really really sorry."
"Not as sorry as you're about to be. I think one whack for each word would be appropriate, don't you?"
"Oh, please Dad, I know I've got to be whacked, but can't it just be two this time?"
"No, it cannot" and he delivered the first stinging blow with as much force as he could manage.
"Yikes, Dad, that hurt."
"Excellent. Let's hope this one does as well". Wham, the second landed fair and square on the large pink mark left by the first."
"Ouch, it's agony Dad".
"I am delighted to hear that . I hope you're ready for the last because it's coming now". And he swung down again. This time even harder. Oscar let out a genuine screech as he felt the stinging pain in his bottom. Andrew gazed in admiration at the scarlet flesh. Then he, as Oscar had done earlier, rested his hand on the very warm bottom. His penis was still erect and he could feel that Oscar's was in the same condition. He released his friend, who grabbed his bottom and rubbed hard before getting to his feet.
"God Andrew, that was a really stinging whacking."
"So was yours. Was it fun doing it?"
"It was the coolest thing ever. What about you?"
"Yeah, wicked. I don't know about you, but I feel like having that wank now. I just kept thinking, every time I whacked your bum, that I was doing it to one of the surfing chicks and it's really got me going."
"Me too. Why don't we sit beside each other on your bed? Then we can watch each other doing it, you know, maybe pick up some tips from each other."
"Cool".
They sat side by side and rubbed their small, erect penises. Once again the climax came early. This time, however, both managed to produce a few drops of creamy liquid.
They lay back, exhausted from their antics, but greatly looking forward to their next adventure. Little did they realise it at the time, but both would be able to practise their new post-whacking sport within a matter of days. And Andrew's father would be able to try out the new slipper!