A note to readers: My nemesis Saggin Jeaned Boy just posted a story exposing how he got his revenge on me one night when my guard--and my pants--were down. Ha ha, it' all very funny how he exposed my humiliation to all the guys who read MMSA Stories, but you should know something very important that he left out--namely the triumph over his ass that he was taking revenge for! Here it is, in its original form from July 2003 when I sent it to him in an email.
Sorry Ronny, all's fair in love and spanking.
Dear Ronny,
I just watched your loser father and brother shuffle out the door and into that junkheap of a car to go play bingo. You're alone in your room listening to Metalica or some such _s_h_i_t_ and can't hear me bounding up the stairs to your room, where through the crack in the door I can see that must be checkin your look in the full length mirror that all little punk wanabees have on the back of the door of their rooms.
Surprise, Dude! I laugh, kicking the door open and replacing your favorite image with the sight of a tall, stocky 90s looking guy with a ceasar haircut and a goatee. He's grinning at you and carrying a 3 foot long wooden Fraternity paddle that belonged to his dad. He rushes towards you while your mouth is still hanging open in shock and he sees the hardon spring up behind your precious eagle belt and tent your silky boxers like a horny sock puppet.
"_f_u_c_k_kerrrrr!!!!!! " you scream, angry and scared and boned like you can't believe, as you whirl around and make a dash for the baseball bat you keep leaning against the wall between your bed and the nightstand.
I grab a big shock of your wild blond hair as it fans out from your motion, and grip it tight, yelling "not so fast, superpunk!
"JEEEZZZUSSSSS OWWWWWWWWWWW LEGGOMY_f_u_c_k_INHAIR YOU FAGGOTT _c_o_c_k_SUCKINGSONOFABITCH!! you're screaming at me as your legs just about fly out from under you. I see my chance as you stagger to keep balance, and I drop the hair for a lunge at your greasy nylon saggin jeans, which I get ahold of by the waist and belt, and triumphantly yank to the floor with a whoop of air from my lungs.
"HANDS OFF MY JEANS HOMO! GONNA GAYBASH YOUR SOAP OPERA DIGEST COVERBOY HEAD WITH MY BAT!" you're yelling at me, but as soon as you've whirled back around to face me, you remember that the tented up front of your silky baggy boxers tells me as much about what you really want as the big sign across your punk boxered butt that I just exposed spelling out "SPANK THIS!"
I laugh. "WHO's the homo, Dude?" I point at your dickhead, poppin out through the loose fly and glistening with a big bead of precum, "You're stiffer than me already! You want to get spanked awful _f_u_c_k_ing bad!" I say, as I make a short stroke of the paddle into the palm of my other hand.
You make one more dash for the bat, but your pretty punky hair betrays you again by making such a nice handle for your head, and your perfect jeans and chains trip you up when they;re in a heap around your trembling ankles.
YOu let out a string of obscenities that would make the little girl in the Exorcist proud as I drag you over to a wooden chair and heave you across the lap of my khaki cargo pants. YOu'll have to remind me in your next email all the names you called me, dude. I don't have space or time for it here.
No reason not to just lay right in paddling your punk ass, dude, while you yell and flail around on my lapp, so I do. SLLLAPPPPP!!!!! SLLAPPPP!!!!! Sllappppp!!! goes my dad's wooden paddle across your defiant butt cheeks that egg me on, telling me to SPANK THIS!!!!!!!
It feels great finally smacking your mean, jealous little ass, Dude, and I don't mind admitting It's givin me a pretty big hard on too, but, jesus, man, you are _f_u_c_k_in grinding your rod down between my thighs as you struggle, and it feels like a _f_u_c_k_in crowbar. You don't need any _f_u_c_k_ing baseball bat, dude!
Thirty or forty smacks with the paddle later, you are starting to beg. Yep. You. Beggin me to stop. It _f_u_c_k_in hurts your _f_u_c_k_ing ass cheeks so stop it man, stop it please, oh jesus I'm sorry. Course I don't believe your lyin ass has had nearly enough, so I just pause long enough to yank your silky boxers down and expose your pinkening ass to the air of your hot, stifling room. "FAGGOT!!! Lay off my bare ass you pervert! THis is total bull_s_h_i_t_! YOu can LICK my asshole, Stroker Fag!"
I laugh and feel all over your smarting pink bottom while you rage against me and struggle a little harder (but not enough to get away) and tell me all kinds of nasty things about me that might be true but it doesn't _f_u_c_k_in matter because I got you over my lap bare assed, and YOU're getting spanked!
I lift the paddle again and bring it down with a meaty smack as it burns your ass! WHee, this is fun, me paddling, you screaming and swearing and rocking all over my lap. I've managed to get your hair divided over the back of your neck and am gripping it together right under your adams apple so I can control you as I need to. I'm gonna miss all this cool blonde hair, but not as much as you will after I hack it off--some day. Todays just for spanking your punk virgin ass.
An hour later you're bawling streams of tears, your ass is blistered purple and and you've shot a hot load of punk spunk that is soaking into the right thigh of my cargo pants. It's making my leg all sticky, but that's okay, I REALLY don't mind.
And hey, look who's here, just in time to see you in your punk coolest moment: bareassed and spanked purple over one of the _f_u_c_k_in' Backstreet Boy's knees : It's your older brother and your father, back from bingo! Guess they could only afford one card tonight!
They look stunned for a while , but when I explain what they're seeing, they get the humor and start to laugh with us, Dude, not at us. Your eager ass kiss of a brother skips right to it and fetches me my bag that I left in the entryway downstairs, and seconds later, we're all posing for polaroids featuring your spanked ass with your mouthy boxer message stretched legibly between your knees. Isn't it ironic?
I leave you to enjoy the remainder of a family evening at home, and to live at least another few days as as the visible shell of a punk who's plump little ass been spanked purple and who liked it so much he creamed all over me.
That night I look at porn on the internet and jack off, and at one point when I find this amazing shot of this truly hot punk dude, I remember the little present you left me. It's almost dry, but it's still a big dark spot on the khaki and I only have to moisten it a little with my tongue before I can smell it again like it was fresh, and it tastes bitter like the lesson a punk with too much 'tude sometimes learns over a square's knee when he get's the hot little rebel's number.
Hope it was as good for you as it was for me, Dude.
Stroker