The Boys Like It!

Continued from The Boys Plus One

Frankie unbuttoned his jeans-again-and this time let them fall into a pile around his ankles. The cool of the clearing on his bare legs alone would have been enough to excite him but the thought of what was happening-and he couldn’t help but to internally narrate-quickened his breath. Liz paid close attention to the deceptive curve of his bottom pushing against the navy blue briefs peeking out from under his shirttail. He was a slight kid but rounded at the bottom like John had been at his age. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly and her cheeks flushed as she pushed him gently forward. “Let’s get your hands on the wall there….” she said as he bent.

Behind them Bob leaned against a tree after moving to a better position to see both Liz’s face and Frankie’s butt. He made the choice to slouch with his hands in his pockets as if they could somehow obscure the pulsing erection crawling down his leg. Everybody in the clearing was winding themselves into a bit of a sexual tizzy except for Chloe who lay in the brambles with her back to the humans resting; with one eye on a tree that, she was pretty sure, held a squirrel.

Liz was careful to use her hands and make as much contact with Frankie’s bottom as possible. She made a production-almost a massage-of running her hands up his hamstrings and across his briefs to lift and drape his shirttail over his back. Then, like Vanna White framing a letter, she slid her hands across his backside before hooking her fingers in the elastic band of his underwear and drawing them ever so slowly down. She had to reach around the front to pop them over his rock-hard cock. His breath quickened audibly during the full ten-count it took to get them all the way off his cheeks. She slid her hand between his legs and upward feeling, touching, weighing and squeezing. With a pat, she reached for a switch.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Oh yes” he hissed arching his back immodestly.

She flicked him across both cheeks with a snap of her wrist. “Ahhh”, he moaned as a thin pink stripe appeared almost instantly. She recognized the moan as being less about pain than about having an unreachable itch finally scratched. She scratched that itch again, then again in quick succession careful to not hit too hard. This wasn’t that kind of switching and as far as she could tell, Frankie wasn’t that sort of bottom. He broke silence around the twelfth cut and mewed through gritted teeth until she broke the end off of the branch. She paused to choose another, copping a quick glance at Bob. He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other and Liz couldn’t quickly surmise whose place he would like to take: Frank’s or hers’. She’d figure that out in a moment.

With another switch chosen and in her left hand she ran her right across the ridges on his bum. They were pink and tight but nothing showing purple. He flinched at her touch and pushed backward like a cat wanting scratched.

“Oh, you like this little respite, do you? This little rub…”

“Yes”, he said breathlessly. “Very much.” She dropped the switch and slid her left hand across his hip and around to his front where his rod continued to stand strong, hard and firm as a flag pole. He jumped when she touched it.

“You are so bad….” She whispered into his ear.

“The worst…” he whispered back.

“Here”, she placed her cock-hand on his chest never moving the right from his bottom, “Stand up.”

He did and she cupped his soft cheeks. “Hold your shirt up so I can spank you…”

“Yes…”

He did as he was told and she began slapping his bare bottom. She alternated soft then hard, right cheek then left, high then low-catching some thigh. “Don’t tense”, she hissed as she smacked on, cupping his rump’s warm softness.  She moved her hand down his chest and brushed, then gripped, his cock firmly bringing forth another low moan. She stroked slowly trying to catch the rhythm of her spanks-which really wasn’t easy and she never quite got it right-but it was good enough for Frank. He pushed backward slightly then began to rock as if to welcome her open palm more quickly while at the same time lengthening her strokes up front.

His right hand moved from his shirt to cover hers on his dick and directed more crispness into her technique. She heard a soft growl start deeply in his chest which quickly morphed into a whimper as he whacked harder, yanking her arm like a pump handle. His butt began to tense until she felt she was spanking a football. She stopped slapping and rubbed his firm cheeks trying to insert a finger into what had become a tight, impenetrable seam. “Do it Frankie”, she seethed. “Go for it!”

Suddenly with a bark, a growl and a thrust up onto his tiptoes she heard him spatter all over the leaves in front of him and on the ground. “ohjesusohjesusohjesus”, he gasped.

“There, there…” she cooed, slowly and tightly finishing him off and wringing him out. He released his hand from his shrinking but still pulsing cock and she did the same. Frankie sagged familiarly into her and she put her arm around his shoulders while his breathing came back. “I’d say that worked for you…” she said.

“I would say so.”

“Good. Alright then”, Liz said with a little pat on his butt. “Get those pants back up.” She turned away and pulled a bandana out of her back pocket to wipe her hand. She thought she had some sanitary wipes back in the car. Frank was flushed and moving as if underwater but he looked contented enough with a sheepish little smile as he fastened his belt. Liz stretched pointedly to pick a larger switch off of the pile-it was the best of the lot and would pack enough of a sting that she didn’t want to use it on Frank. She whipped the air once and pointed it at Bob. “Your turn big boy.”

“What? Me….No….” He actually threw up his hands and waved the thought away.

“No?” she asked.

“I don’t do that….I mean-I give. He takes.”

“You’re a top, is what you mean.”

“What’s that?”

“Tops give. Bottoms take.”

“That’s right then. Yes. I’m a top.”

“Hmmm…Is that right Frank? Is Bob a top?”

“He is around me, for sure…I’ve never…done anything to him.”

“Never?”

Frank shook his head. “Nope.”

“Well”, said Liz, stroking her chin. “That doesn’t seem fair does it?”

“Not to me”, said Frank a little too brightly.

“Well, Jeez…”Bob sputtered.

Liz fixed him with an eye. “I think you should get over here and bend over for me, boy. You might think you’re a top, but I’m the real deal. You should get a taste of the real thing when you can.” She rose into the role and affected the no-nonsense school teacher pose tapping the switch into the palm of her left hand. Then, when Frank continued to hesitate, she said softly “You really don’t want to miss out on this do you?”

“No”, said Frank to his roommate, “You don’t.”

Making his mind up in a rush Bob took two steps toward the wall when Chloe suddenly jumped up from her nap and barked at the hillside from which Liz and she had come.

“Uh oh”, Liz said. “Company.” They could hear female voices over the hill talking; too far away to be understood but coming closer. Bob was frozen in mid-step not knowing whether he was relieved or disappointed. “You know”, Liz looked at him wickedly. “We could just continue…really give them a show when they show up. Like I almost got.”

“Oh, no…that’s OK…” Again there was that nervous hand waving again. He was too big and too good-looking to be tossing his hands around like this. She looked at him closely, flushed and uncertain; ready to try something that he’d never done and, judging by the bulge in his pants, looking forward to it.

“You boys live on campus or off?” They didn’t answer quickly. “You’re students right?”

“Off campus”, Frank told her. “Just uptown.” He gave her the address.

“That’s near the falafel place isn’t it?”

“Middle of the block and across the street.”

She crowded Bob, assessing his size and searching his eyes for any kind of STOP signal. The vein in his neck pulsed quickly and his breath was coming in swallow swallows. She handed him the switch. “Take this home with you. I’m going to drop off Chloe there and be over. You be ready.”

“OK”, he said softly.

Her hand snapped like a cobra and grabbed his earlobe giving it a tug. “What?”

“Oww,” he grimaced surprised. “Yes Mam.”

“Good.” She smiled releasing him and turning quickly. “I’ll see you boys soon. Come on Chloe. Heel Pup.”

The puppy loped over and fell into line behind her as they headed down the trail.

To be continued….

The Boys Plus One

Continued from The Boys and Angie’s Workout….

The trail along this, the Western side of the hill, is a series of switchbacks cutting back and forth-a twisting serpent crawling toward the sunlight leaking over the trees at the summit. This morning, the man hadn’t summited. He had taken what he called his “vertical constitutional” and turned back about two thirds to the top. He didn’t have time to go all the way up today, nor the energy.

About halfway down he noticed the two kids heading up. Relative term; to him kids could be anyone under 30 but he judged these, from two switches away, to be a boy and a girl. Two more turns and he was able to correct himself “Hello boys”, he greeted as he stepped aside and uphill on the slender trail so they could pass.

“Morning”, said the slighter of the two who was in the lead. “Hey”, nodded the second, the taller and burlier. They were head down-seemingly determined to reach the top-and not interested in talking. “It’s all yours up there boys”, he called over his shoulder. There’s nobody up there but squirrels..”

“What did he mean by that?” Frank whispered back to Bob.

“Relax. Just a duffer talking. Just saying there is nobody up there.”

Relax…sure, thought Frank. Easy for him to say. He sipped nervously at the water bottle he carried but he wasn’t really thirsty-or rather it wasn’t the climb that was drying his mouth. It was what was going to happen at the top of the hill that had the butterflies rising in his chest.

The boys had spent as much time trying to make their spanking game appear-or feel, if only to themselves-spontaneous. Unplanned for sure. Something that happened organically. Just horseplay talking a turn. There were a couple more forced wrestling matches that ended the same way the first one had-with Frank on the bottom getting his ass slapped. Then they moved into card games, which Frank always managed to lose. The penalty-the lost bet-always played out in some variation of the same theme: smacks on the butt, swats with a wooden spoon with Frank leaning against the wall in the kitchen or a yardstick that stung like hell through nylon sweat pants as Frank lay over the back of the couch.

Then, just last week, he came back to the apartment to find Bob leafing through “Appalachian Folklore” book he had used for the paper. “So”, Bob asked, “What do you think about that witch’s caning?”

The fact is Frank had not been able to get the idea of the witch’s caning out of his mind since he had read it. He studiously avoided including anything of it in the paper he had turned in-and got a B on-but the idea of a caning in the raw openness of a clearing in the woods excited him. Of course all he had to do was mention it to Bob once and the plans were made.

As promised, at the top of the hill was a ruined stone wall-a remnant of a garden wall from a hundred years before. Whatever else was here had been retaken by the thick woods around them.

Frankie’s fingers shook slightly as he cut what he thought were acceptable switches. Bob was on the other side of the clearing cutting others-they would choose the best ones. Even though they had reasonably decided that thorned branches might be appropriate for a witch’s bare bottom they might be a little much for his-these were going to hurt. At least sting…He was counting on Bob not to hurt him. Well, at least too much.

They met at the wall. “Are you ready to do this?”

In answer Frankie turned his back to face the low rock wall. He took a few steps closer to it so he could bend right over-hands on its’ top. Bob, the thickening in his crotch expanding into a full shaft erection moving down his leg (How quickly that happened!) stepped to his left and measured his swing.  Frank, about to free his own stiffening hard-on to the morning air took a deep breath to settle his fluttering heart while he unfastened his belt and unsnapped his jeans. He was standing thusly, unzipped and ready to lower, when in a rush of crackling leaves and snapping twigs, a large dog burst through the brambles to their right.

It was an Irish Setter-a big puppy actually-loping and jumping around the clearing happily ignoring them sniffing and pawing at everything striking his fancy. The boys were frozen in place watching him as a tall blonde woman in followed the dog out of the brambles. “Dammit, Chloe”, she said with a laugh, “Would you slow down a little bit…” She froze when she saw the boys not three paces away. “Oh-good morning,” she said. “Sorry about Chloe-I thought we were alone up here.”

Frank froze. If he removed his hands from his pants, the belt would pull them straight to the ground leaving him standing there in his underwear. If he zipped up and snapped himself closed…the implications would be obvious. Bob, for his part, let his arm fall to his side and opened his hand so the switch could fall unobtrusively, he thought, to the ground. “No…” he stammered moving away. “No problem…Chloe, you say? Nice puppy.” The dog, no longer on-site, was happily bounding through the brush on the other side of the clearing.

Two long strides put Liz in the middle of the tableau. She registered the smaller guy, back turned, pants coming up or going down. Whether he had moved off or not, she saw where the other guy had been standing when she got there. And there was a pile of sticks and switches on the ground which she regarded carefully, stroking her chin theatrically. She felt as if she had walked onto the stage in the middle of a play she had written.

“He must have been very bad”, she said looking up from the ground breaking the nervous silence.

Frank shifted nervously and opted to button his jeans so he wouldn’t have to hold them. Bob who was looking hopefully away for the distraction of the puppy half turned back to face the woman. Neither boy seemed to remember how to talk. “Well?” Liz asked. “Very bad?”

Frank had zipped his jeans and was now turned looking at her. She was taller than he was-about as tall as Bob-wearing snug jeans, hiking boots, fancy $120 wicking shirt turned up and buttoned at the forearms topped by a nylon ballcap out of which her blonde ponytail hung in the back. He recovered his voice first.

“Somewhat bad”, he almost whispered.

“Somewhat? A switching is pretty severe for ‘somewhat bad’, don’t you think?” There was a hint of a smile on her lips and Frankie saw a glint in her eyes that he recognized as a reflection of his own feelings. “Not my rules”, he said.

“So”, she addressed Bob. “This is your doing…”

“Not entirely”, he said fumbling-as if he really owed anyone an explanation.

“Have you ever used a switch before? Either of you?”

“No”, Bob answered.

“I can tell by the pile of twigs you’ve put together here.” She bent to pick through them and Frank could positively not stop himself from stealing a look at her bottom. Seemingly obliviously, she shifted her backside slightly toward him while picking a few good switches from the pile.

“These ones are fine”, she said testing them through the air once after the other. “Some are passable. You there, big guy, what’s your name?”

“Bob”, he said. “Bob Wil…..” and bit his tongue before giving his last name.

“That’s OK”, she said. “I don’t need your last name or your social security number…You”, she tapped Frank on the bottom with the switch she was holding. “Who are you?”

“Frank. Frankie.”

“Hmmm…OK. Here’s what I’m thinking. You guys-you in particular” pointing the branch at Bob “don’t know much about the how’s of switching, right?”

“Never done it”, said Bob.

“Exactly”, she said.  “I have. And I’m good at it…So what I’m thinking is that I should take over here. I’ll take the switches to Frankie here-as a kind of tutorial. You can see how it’s done so you’re not fumbling around in the woods with twigs that won’t do the job.”

Chloe bounded back into the clearing and over to Liz, panting, her red coat full of burs that Angie would have to spend the rest of the afternoon brushing out. “Good girl-good Chloe….Go lay down now…take a rest…let us know if anyone’s coming….” As if understanding the command, the dog moved to the edge of the clearing and crashed. “So”, she said turning back to Frankie.

“OK” said Frankie.

“OK then”, Liz said. “Turn around and take down your pants young man.”

His cock stiffened at the words.

To be continued….

The Boys

“Hey, listen to this…” Frank looked up over his book at his roommate who was likewise studying sprawled out on the couch. Frank read:

“….the newly made witch had to be passed into the coven afore…”

“Afore?”

“I’m just reading as it’s written….’Afore she could take her place in the dark society. That would typically happen the first full moon after her makin’. She was brought into a clearing by the elder witches, stripped nekkid and bent over a log. Then all the witches in the coven would whip her fanny with the cuttings of rose bushes…”

“Yeowch!” said Bob from the couch.

“…until the skin was raw then the devil hisself would appear with his own switch until his marks mingled with the others. Then the witch was considered part of the tribe.”

“What are you reading?”

“It’s for a paper on 19^th century American folklore. I’m doing Appalachia…”

Bob put his book down open on his chest. His six-foot plus frame didn’t quite fit on the couch-one foot was hanging over the arm and the other was propped on the battered coffee table. “So see? You’re not the only one who enjoys getting his butt beat now and then.”

“I don’t know if ‘enjoy’ is the right word…in this context”, he said lifting the book.

“I’d do it without the rose branches…”

“Big of you…”

The boys had stayed at school through the summer to pick up some extra credits that were there for the taking. The campus was dead in the summer but since they lived off-campus housing was not an issue but having no one around was. There were no parties, no women to speak of, the bars were full of locals, nothing to do but go to class, study and otherwise amuse themselves.

Later they would wonder if this enforced solitude was what ultimately had pushed them down the road they went down.

The first time anything “untoward” had happened began innocuously enough. They were sitting on the couch one drizzly Thursday evening smoking a bowl and watching Jeopardy. Maybe Frank was holding onto the pipe for too long, maybe he wasn’t. But Bob thought he was. He reached across and tried to grab at it but Frank-more in fun than anything-held it as far out of reach as he could, forcing Bob to climb over him toward it. Frank was no physical match for him as they laughed, cussed and wrestled themselves onto the floor. Frank held the pipe in his fist and tried to crawl away only to be crushed to the floor on his stomach as Bob tackled him then sat astride him facing backwards.

“Give it up!” he barked.

“No way-“Frank tried squirming away.

Then, with no malice aforethought, thinking nothing actually beyond wrestling on the floor, Bob hauled off and smacked his roommate right on his ass. “Hey!” Frank had yelped.

“The pipe!” Bob demanded.

“No!” was the answer.

SWAT! Another smack landed right where the first had-exactly in the middle of Frank’s denim-clad right cheek. “OW!”

“The pipe!”

“No!”

SWAT! This time on the left cheek. “OW-Jesus Bob. That hurt.” Curiously though, Frank had stopped struggling to get free and the pipe-long gone out-gripped in his right fist had become an afterthought. He lay there almost holding his breath as his friend smacked his ass twice more. Then again-and again-alternating cheeks. The swats hurt-Bob was a tough guy-but he really wasn’t really feeling any pain exactly. He was feeling something-the weight pinning him down, the heat being generated on his backside, a stirring up front grinding the floor…but it wasn’t pain.

He felt Bob shift on top of him and the spanking stopped. “Do you want anymore?”

Oh great-a trick question. The true answer would admit that he was kind of liking this somehow and invite more. Which would be fine-which would be better than stopping-but the whole idea of liking it? Too much to process right now. Instead he reached back and handed over the pipe. “You win…”

“Hah!” Bob barked and slapped his butt one more time-softer, almost a pat-and got off. He stayed on the floor and sat against the couch. Frank pushed himself up and likewise flopped against the couch. As if someone had turned the TV back on they discovered Final Jeopardy and stared at the tube while Bob relit the bowl.

Neither called attention to-nor ignored-Bob’s hard on which was slowing receding back up his leg.

“That was odd…” Bob gasped holding his breath to keep the smoke in. He handed the pipe over.

“Exceedingly so….” Frank agreed.

Suddenly the room felt a little tighter and air was tough to come by.

“Let’s get out of here and grab a beer…” Bob said getting up quickly.

“Good idea”, agreed Frank and they were out the door without turning off the TV.

That was two months and about a dozen spankings ago.

To Be Continued