(Usual Disclaimers Apply)
"So, what turns you on?", my big friend Bryan asked.
"Wh-at?" I spluttered, looking up from the latest 'Popular Mechanics'. I had 'borrowed' it from the newsagents where I worked and had it to get it back before it was missed.
"What gets your motor running?" He replied, pulling the magazine from my hands.
"Careful!" I complained. "That's got to be returned to work in one piece".
Bryan grinned. He was a handsome young man of 23. I had recently turned 19 but looked far younger.
"Karl, we both like girls but you know as well as I do that the most fun we get from them is touching their titties. Mine won't even let me play stinky finger".
His crude words made me blush. The most I ever got from my girl was a chaste kiss at the end of the night. This was 1953 when 'good' girls saved their virginity for marriage.
I looked around Bryan's room which was much the same as my own. Hardly surprising seeing that we shared lodgings. Mrs Bowcott our landlady was visiting her sister that rainy afternoon and we had the house to ourselves.
"So? Have you ever had _s_e_x_ual pleasure without a girl? And I don't mean wanking."
A thought came into my mind and caused me to blush beet-red.
"You have, haven't you?" my friend said delightedly. "Tell Uncle Bryan all about it".
"Promise you won't say a word to a living soul?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die".
I collected my thoughts.
"It was during my first year at high school. I was walking past the headmaster's study when I heard a boy getting a good thrashing. Each time the cane whacked his backside, the stretched fabric of his uniform shorts made it sound like a gun-shot".
Bryan's eyes lit up as he he listened to my tale.
"I counted six strokes. When the boy emerged from the study he walked right past me and I could see his face was contorted with pain. He was furiously rubbing his backside through his shorts. Anyway, overhearing the beating and seeing him like that afterwards caused my dick to swell".
"How old were you, 12-13? At that age your dick has a mind of its own".
"13", I replied.
Bryan looked thoughtful.
"Did you ever get the cane at high school?"
"No", I admitted. "I was probably the only boy to go right through school without getting his bum striped".
"What about at home?"
"Nah. Mum was a widow".
"Amazing!" Bryan said. "You are seriously overdue a good one. I can see I'll have to take you in hand".
"Don't know about that", I replied. "What about you?"
He cleared his throat. "My old man leathered a couple of layers of skin off my bare backside at least once a month. I was caned at school a few times but they were just flea-bites compared with the serious pain my Dad inflicted on my rear end with his belt. Believe me, at no time did I get hard". He cleared his throat. "However, we had a neighbour who was a few years younger than myself. I'd have enjoyed tanning his little botty. Just thinking about it gave me a stiffy".
I was about to reply to my friend's confession when we heard the front door slam shut. Mrs Bowcott was back. She had ears that seemed to hear everything that was said in her house. I bent down to pick up the 'Popular Mechanics', intent on leaving the room.
"Nice arse", Bryan whispered approvingly. "It needs a good seeing-to".
We heard our landlady climbing the stairs and I escaped. After tea, Bryan took himself off for a couple of hours.
Later that night, while Mrs Bowcott dozed in front of the coal fire, Bryan returned. He beckoned to me and whispered: "I want to show you something".
I followed him up the stairs and into his room.
"This is just between you and me. Right?" He said.
"Right".
"You know that beating you overheard? When you were at school? Well, this is what that boy's backside would have looked like an hour or so afterwards".
Bryan dropped his trousers and eased his jockeys down exposing his rump. Six raised red welts had been slashed across his taut flesh. My friend's masculine bottom was badly swollen and there was extensive bruising.
"Seen enough?"
"Y-yes", I stuttered.
Bryan quickly got dressed again.
"How did you get those .. marks"?
My friend grinned.
"This is a big city and there are men who share our interest".
"Does it hurt", I asked, stupidly.
"Like the devil", Bryan replied. "However this helps take the sting out of it".
He rummaged in his trouser pocket and produced a wad of banknotes.
"25 quid, just for taking a beating".
That was more than I earned in a month!
"Anyway, I told the man all about you. My young friend who has reached the ripe old age of 19 without being spanked".
I blushed.
"He's very keen to meet you".
"Truly?"
"Of course".
"Well, I'm not keen on meeting him".
Bryan looked perplexed.
"Why ever not?"
"Don't get me wrong, I could really do with the money. It's just the idea of having to bare my bum for a complete stranger and .. and letting him hurt me like that man hurt you". Angered, I shouted: "You must be sick in the head!"
My cruel words had wounded my big friend. I could see the pain reflected in his handsome face and immediately felt sorry for what I had said.
"I didn't mean it, Bryan. I'm really sorry. It just sort of slipped out".
"That's ok, Karl". His expression softened. "It's just I thought we were both on the same wavelength".
I was anxious to make amends. "Well .. maybe .. if there is someone you trust to do it, I guess I better take a hiding".
So, the next evening Bryan and I caught a bus which, some twenty minutes later, deposited us in a pleasant leafy suburb.
"It's Number 11", Bryan said.
We walked up to the brick and tile house. My friend opened the street door and we entered a hallway.
"The study is through there". He gestured at a door. "I'll go first. You wait here".
Bryan disappeared through the study door, closing it firmly behind him. I heard the murmur of voices and then the sharp thwack! of a cane thrashing my friend's buttocks. I counted six strokes. It was like the caning I had overheard at school except this time fear of what was about to happen to my own backside stopped any erection.
Eventually, the study door opened and Bryan emerged.
"Your turn. I'll be back for you in an hour".
With that he strode out the street door. In a daze I walked into the study, shutting the door behind me. Much to my surprise, the 'study' turned out to be a doctor's surgery. In the fashion of the day, the consulting room had two doors, one from the waiting room and another door which let the patient out into the street. I realised that Bryan and then myself had entered through the second door.
My eyes went to the man who was standing in front of the desk. I had expected him to be an elderly schoolmasterish type. Instead, he was a tall, good-looking, masculine man in his late twenties. He held out his hand.
"You must be Karl. I'm Doctor Matt Ryan. Very pleased to meet you".
His handshake was firm. He showed me to a chair. We had a conversation while summing each other up. Matt, as he insisted I call him, talked about rugby, a passion I shared, and what chance the local team might have in the national competition. He was so ordinary and decent that in spite of everything, I soon felt myself relaxing in his company.
"So, Karl, Bryan tells me we all have a common interest?"
I cleared my throat. "Well, I've always been curious about .. um .. spanking. Since school, I guess".
"But you have yet to experience one for yourself? Is that right?"
I blushed and nodded my head.
"Well, I think a sixer with the cane might be a bit much for your first time. My backside is still throbbing a very great deal from the six Karl gave me before you came in".
Matt chuckled at the expression on my face.
"My bottom has received regular doses of corporal punishment for most of my life", he explained. "Primarily I like to give but will bend over for someone like Bryan who knows what he is doing".
"Uh, huh".
"Now get on the bench". His voice was firm. "Trousers and underpants off".
Like an automaton I did as I was told. I think I comforted myself with the thought that Matt was a doctor. I know I did not feel unduly embarrassed about stripping off in front of him. Once I was in position, his warm hands scooped up my shirt-tails, pushing the fabric clear of my buttocks. He placed a rolled-up razor strop where I could see it.
"This is what I have in store for you". Matt's voice was professional and crisp. "There will be no set number of licks. The hiding will continue until you say 'sorry'. Is that understood?"
"Yes".
He picked up the razor strop and let it unfurl in front of me. Then he moved to my side and brought the leather down with a crack! onto my unprotected buttocks. A river of pain snaked around my virgin flesh. He warmed to his work and soon my bottom was on fire. I yelped after each hard lick but he kept right on savaging my hot little arse.
"Sorry yet?"
"N-no".
"The hiding will get harder".
He was as good as his word. My buttocks seemed to swell up like two balloons under the relentless lash. Life was no longer complicated. Only one thing mattered: what that man was doing to my backside. It was preposterous! I did not need to submit to this. I was about to give in when the hurt plateaued and I felt my shrivelled up male organ go hard. The hiding continued but now pain the had become sensual pleasure. Delicious carnal sensations engulfed my nether regions, right to the tip of my rigid penis. It was the best orgasm I had ever experienced except I had not yet ejaqulated. Whether Matt detected a change in my demeanour I do not know. The leather continued to rise and fall, each hard lick producing even more intense pleasure.
I know not how long I was in that blissful state. Then my balls began to churn. I eased myself up off the bench and felt my torpedo fire load after load of hot spunk.
"Sorry", I said, feeling somewhat ashamed of myself for making such a mess on the bench.
The strop clattered to the floor.
Gingerly, I eased myself off the bench. Matt indicated that he was in urgent need of relief himself and told me of a way I could help him. Exhausted, I lent against the bench and let him have his way with me. I must say he knew how to work his way up, no doubt as a result of his medical training. However, this archive is NOT a suitable forum for graphic descriptions of male couplings.
Afterwards, I sipped sweetened tea to help ward off the shock which was starting to set in. My poor bottom was still on fire, not only the portals but also the tunnel within. Its tight entrance had been sorely stretched by Dr Matt who was blessed with a long, thick member and the thrusting power of a jet engine.
Later, I sat in the bus with Bryan, feeling every bump on the road. My big friend wanted to know all about it. Exhausted, I told him the lot.
"You let him fook you as well as take a hiding?" Bryan whistled. "That's worth at least forty quid!"
That, I knew. Inside my overcoat pocket, my right hand clutched a wad of crisp, new banknotes.
When we got home Mrs Bowcott was sound asleep in her bed. We went to my room where Bryan examined my battered posterior and gently spanked and fondled my still-throbbing cheeks. One thing led to another. My big friend proved he truly was 'big', with a staying power to equal Dr Matt.
All I knew after that crazy, wonderful night, was my life would never be the same again.