Gary Kinsey: Flipping Sides

In Texas, when I was a kid, kids started school when they were six years old. School started the day after Labor Day, and if that was 3 September, and your birthday was 5 September, you waited a year.

That meant that everyone in my fifth grade class was either ten or eleven. Of course, on the day school started, some kids were only days away from their eleventh birthday, while others were only days past their tenth.

On top of that, some boys start showing signs of puberty when they’re only nine years old. With the late bloomers, those signs might still be years away.

Between those two facts, there can be a fair amount of size difference among boys in a class. It’s not nearly as bad as it gets in the next few years, but it’s already appearing.

In my fifth grade homeroom, I was the third tallest boy. There were three homeroom classes that year. I don’t remember exactly how many kids or boys there were total, but I was still one of the taller kids, even if I was only at the high end of average.

Gary Kinsey was the smallest.

Actually, I can’t remember if he or Raul was actually smaller, but Raul was the fastest kid in our class and an all-star baseball player, while Gary was just an average Joe, so Gary was kind of the smallest by default, even if Raul might have been a half-inch shorter.

To make up for that, Gary was cute as a teddy bear. He had very light brown, very curly hair, dark blue eyes, fair skin with lots of freckles, and a button nose.

Everybody liked Gary. There was no reason not to like him. Gary was as nice and friendly as he was cute. That wasn’t enough to protect him from everybody though.

While the guys who combined biggest in class with bully were at the top of the food chain, and would usually leave guys like Gary alone, there were others. They were usually the kids who were preyed upon by the biggest bullies and, in turn, sought smaller prey on whom they could take out their frustrations.

That’s what I found occurring one morning when I came into school from the back way.

There was a drug store a couple of blocks from our campus that sometimes had some good comics, and I went by there when I left the house early enough. I’d been looking forward to reading my new purchase, but came around the corner to find one big kid who had to swallow a fair amount of teasing about being fat, holding Gary by the wrist and had his fist pulled back. Gary had his free hand over the shoulder of the pinned arm, and was jerking around. Judging by his face, he’d already taken at least one frog to the arm. (For those not in the know, a ‘frog’ is generally a knuckle punch into the big mass of muscles in the upper arm, but can also be a knee to the thigh muscles).

"Let go of him," I said, without really thinking about it. Lee was not quite as tall as me, but definitely bigger. And while he was overweight, he didn’t have a lot of trouble moving or anything like that.

He turned to look at me, obviously not happy about being disturbed in his recreation.

"Or what?"

I shrugged, mostly because it was a stupid question.

"You want some trouble?" he asked.

"No, but it seems like you do."

I don’t know what I’d expected. Kids like that usually don’t like to have witnesses when they’re hurting somebody, so maybe I’d thought he’d just quit. What I didn’t expect was for him to drop Gary’s wrist, then turn and take a roundhouse swing at me.

Now, I’m not great fighter, but Mom had dated a guy when I was in third grade, before she married Ralph. This guy actually liked kids, and he taught Golden Gloves boxing. She hadn’t dated him long, but he had taken me to a few training sessions while they were together, and I’d learned a couple of things, like the correct way to stand, and how to throw a punch.

Lee hadn’t been standing all that well to start, and I’d walked up on his left side. He was taking a big, roundhouse swing at me with his right hand across his body, which left him badly off balanced. I just stepped back out of his way, then stepped up and drove a fist into his belly. It wouldn’t have been enough to win a real fight, but it was enough to double him over for a moment, which let Gary and me walk away.

Once a kid was at school, if the weather allowed, he could either go to the playground or into the classroom area. Gary was a bus student, but he’d decided to sneak over to the grocery store to get a candy bar. Since he hadn’t been supposed to be back there, he didn’t want to tell a teacher (and really, you didn’t tell unless you’d been hurt bad, anyway), but we did decide to go on into class in case Lee decided to cause more trouble.



As Gary explained to me that he and Lee rode the same bus, and that Lee teased him a lot on the ride home, I realized why Lee had been hitting. Gary wasn’t one of the smartest kids in class, but he was far and away from dumb. And while Lee wasn’t exactly dumb, the distance wasn’t so great for him as it was Gary. I’m sure that if Lee had started teasing Gary about his size, Gary had given just as good back. Lee had probably got tired of verbal bullying where he caught the worst end of it and decided to work out his frustrations more directly.

Then Gary admitted that he’d gone off campus, which was technically a rule violation.

"You left school before the end of the day," I mock-scolded Gary, waving my finger at him. "You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you?"

Gary looked at me, wide-eyed, for just a second, then realized I was playing. He had a grin on his face, but tried to hide it by pouting his lips.

"I’m sorry."

"Well, sorry’s not good enough, mister," I replied, subconsciously mimicking many of the lectures I’d received over the years. "What happens to naughty boys?"

"They get spanked," he answered quietly.

I’d been sitting at my desk, and Gary was standing next to me. When he gave that answer, I turned sidewise, then pointed at me lap.

Gary’s eyes went wide again, but he smiled and giggled, then lay across my knees.

Gary was wearing jeans, with a t-shirt tucked in, and a belt. I don’t remember the brand of jeans, but I do remember he had nothing in his back pockets. What he did have was a very nice, round bottom. In those days, no one sagged (unless they hadn’t quite grown into the latest hand-me-downs), and the denim hugged snuggly to his rear.

At ten-years-old, it never occurred to me how weird what we were doing must look. We were sitting in the classroom, and while it wasn’t full, we weren’t the only kids in there. Still, I never thought about it while I took a minute to admire that round little backside. I rubbed my hand across the seat of his jeans, then lifted it to give him four or five birthday-type smacks.

"Now, have you learned a lesson?" I asked.

"Yes, sir," Gary answered perfectly. "I promise I won’t do it again."

I let Gary climb to his feet. He was smiling at me, as he sat in the desk next to mine. As he came to rest, his face gained a mock painful look, and he jumped back up, reaching behind him to rub.

I had to laugh.



I don’t remember when that occurred. It had been an overcast, but not especially cold day. The problem is, in Texas that could be anytime from September to April.

What I do remember is that wasn’t the only time we played our little game. I don’t remember it happening too often, but it did happen a few other times, always variations on the same theme.

And then Gary asked me if I’d like to spend the night with him.



I’d started fifth grade with my bedwetting problem uncontrolled, but it had finally stopped by the end of that school year. In between, I was very nervous about accepting invitations. I don’t remember the exact schedule, but do remember that I’d been having some dry nights by Christmas. Of course, even after something like that ends, a boy would still be terrified by the idea of a relapse occurring with witnesses.

I think the thing that really swayed me was less that Gary was becoming a good friend, and more that my best friends – Jay and David – were becoming incredibly close to each other as Jay’s single mom dated David’s single dad, and the two of them were leaving me out in the cold.

Nervous or not, I accepted.



What had spurred the invitation was that there were two giant monster movies coming on Friday night. One was on channel eleven, which had a weird format for their nine o’clock movie: they’d start the movie at 9pm, then take a fifteen minute break at 10pm for the news. Then they’d conclude the movie. The second movie, which as an actual Godzilla feature, was at midnight, after Johnny Carson.

Gary lived with his mom in a small house that seemed roomy since there were only two of them to share the three bedrooms. His mom’s bedroom wasn’t near the living room, so she was willing to let us stay up as late as we wanted. At 9pm, after dinner and some cards, she retired.

The movie was a lot of fun for both of us. I remember laughing with Gary at the bad dubs, and cheering the early conflicts with the monsters. Then, when the news started, we had to deal with fifteen minutes of boredom.

With his mom abed, we skipped baths. Each of us took a trip to the bathroom. When Gary came back wearing pajamas, I changed as well. The thing I thought cutest was, while I was wearing adult style pajamas that were loose in sleeve and leg and buttoned up the front, with a plaid design, Gary wore the more childish design, with a pullover top, elastic around the wrists and ankles, and Scooby Doo on the chest.

"Does your dad spank you?" Gary asked, during a lull in the conversation.

I guess it was natural. We saw each other every day at school, so there was always something to talk about, but not often something that hadn’t been chewed over before. And the fact that I ‘spanked’ him on a regular basis had to leave him curious about my experience on the flip side.

I explained to him about my Dad, who hadn’t spanked me too often, and about Ralph, who had. I also threw in my Mom, though she wasn’t spanking me nearly as often by then as she had when she was single.

"Do you get spanked? For real, I mean," I asked when my explanation was done.

"Not really. My grandpa used to sometimes when we lived with him and Grandma."

Gary’s mom was a bit older than mine, which still isn’t all that old. I think she was about thirty, while my own mom was only twenty-seven at that time. Gary’s mom had married a soldier on the way to Vietnam and gotten pregnant before he left. Mom found out she was widowed a few months after Gary was born.

Gary and his mom had lived with her parents for a number of years, and the grands helped with childcare and some expenses, while his mom worked and went to college. Gary wasn’t sure how long it had taken her to complete it, since he didn’t really know when she started, but he did remember going to her graduation when he was seven.

They lived with his grandparents another couple of years while Mom found a good job and built up a savings account. Gary also remembered her buying a new car during that time.

That’s also the time he was experiencing regular spankings.

His grandfather was his regular disciplinarian. Grandma and Mom had never been spankers. They were, and Gary admitted blushingly that his mom still was, the type to smack him a couple of times, or chase him to his room, landing random swats with a wooden spoon before telling him to stay there ‘until I tell you you can come out!’

Grandpa was much more methodical. The ladies in his life may have dealt with him more frequently, simply because Grandpa spent more time at work, but when he acted up with Grandpa around, or worse, when his behavior was bad enough to be brought to Grandpa’s attention, he was escorted back to his bedroom, where his pants, and usually his little white briefs, went to half mast in mourning for his comfortable, white bottom.

As far as I can tell, Gary lived with his grandpa until he was nine; and as far as I could tell from what Gary told me, Grandpa never spanked with anything but his hand. From what Gary told me, he never needed to – certainly not as far as Gary was concerned.

"He spanked hard!" was Gary’s summation.

Since they’d moved to Bransom, Gary’s mom hadn’t become more of a spanker, though it seemed he was more likely to get grabbed by the arm and held for a few swats now, rather than being chased to his room. Basically though, I was the only person to have spanked Gary, except for one incident on a visit to the grands the previous summer. And he was so cute as he blushingly admitted that (Gary was fair skinned and blushed a lot).



The news ended, and Gary rushed through the end of his spanking history in time for us to concentrate on the gargantuas beating the snot out of each other and Tokyo.

After the end of that movie, we had an hour to kill before Godzilla. Neither of us was particularly interested in Johnny and his guests, so we dug out the cards again.

After a few hands, both of us were yawning wide, so we’d climbed to our feet to move around a bit. Gary took another trip to the bathroom, and when he came back, he found me sitting on the couch.

"How’d you do on your spelling test this week, Gary?"

He stopped, and looked confused for a second, like he was wondering how he’d missed a turn, but then his face quickly passed through understanding to nervous anticipation.

"Okay," he answered with a bit of whine in his voice.

I had trouble not laughing as I tried to make my voice both stern and deeper.

"Just okay? Didn’t we talk about that?"

He nodded.

"What did I say would happen if you didn’t make a good grade on your test today?"

"That I’d get a spanking."

Gary and I had been playing this game in school for a while now. It didn’t come up regularly, and we had no set format for it, but he seemed to be reading my mind. I actually didn’t know anyone who got spanked for one bad grade or even for an occasional bit of trouble at school, but it was the stuff of childhood legend, and Gary knew it as well as I did.

"Did you make a hundred?"

"No," he answered, pouting his lip a bit. "Are you going to spank me?"

"Don’t you deserve it?"

He nodded.

"Then come here."

Gary walked over to me and started to lie across my legs, but then stopped.

"Are you going to pull my pants down this time?" he asked. Now his voice wasn’t whiny, but rough and nervous.

"What did you make on the test?"

"A sixty," he replied.

I knew he’d actually made a ninety-five, but why ruin a good time with facts?

"I guess you deserve to have your pants down then."

Instead of pulling them down, he just moved his hands out of the way. If he’d been wearing jeans, I might have been defeated, but his pajama bottoms just had an elastic waist and came down easily.

Like me, he wasn’t wearing undies.

I liked looking at Gary’s peter. There was nothing unusual about it, but in fifth grade, I wasn’t exactly having a lot of opportunity to see any, usual or not. Still, he wasn’t interested in me seeing his dick and nearly threw himself over my lap once I had his bottom bared.

I suppose I should have had some more dialogue, but I’d run myself dry. My throat was so thick and dry, I’m not sure I would have been able to say anything anyway. Instead, I ran my hand over his bottom.

Gary wasn’t the first boy whose bottom I’d touched. I’d played show me games with a number of boys, and some of those had ended in touching, and I’d even seen and touched a couple of my friends’ butts after they’d been spanked. But like this? Having a boy across my legs so that I could spank him, even if it was only a play spanking?

Gary didn’t complain as my hand patted and rubbed his cheeks. Given the way he squirmed, I think he might have enjoyed it as much as I did. After a while, I couldn’t wait any longer for the main event.

Without warning, my hand rose and fell. It would probably hardly even be considered a pat, but that’s how our game was played. Twice, then again. I don’t think it was even enough to pinken him, but this time, there was no one else around, and nothing else to do.

I kept going.

Again and again and again until it had been a birthday spanking, but I kept going. Twelve, fifteen, and the swats were getting… if not hard, then at least a bit firmer. Firm enough Gary was starting to squirm around a bit, even if he was taking them quietly.

Well, maybe not quietly.

"I’m sorry, Daddy. I’ll be good."

I had to clear my throat before I could say anything.

"You’d better be. You want the belt next time?"

"No," he whined, but it was ruined by his near laugh.

I did take that as my cue though, and finished up with a couple of smacks that might almost have been hard enough to be ‘ones to grow on’. Then I let him up.

Gary reached behind him to give his rear a rub, but I think it was closer to enjoying the warmth than any real sting. He certainly wasn’t jumping around, and his dry face was smiling at me.

After a minute, he stopped rubbing.

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Could I spank you?"

There has never been anything in my make-up that was interested in the idea of spanking from that perspective. I didn’t like being spanked and didn’t want to be spanked.

I did want to make my friend happy though.

I nodded.

Gary’s pajama bottoms had worked themselves to his ankles at some point, and now he kicked them off. I stood from the couch, and he stepped over to take my place. Instead of raising my top, I unbuttoned the bottom few buttons, then spread the shirt. He reached up, snagged my pants by the waistband, and gave them a tug. They were loose enough that they hit the floor as soon as they were past my hips, but that’s not what caught my attention. Instead, I was looking at Gary as his eyes went wide.

"Your peter’s big!"

At that point in my life, I knew nothing about sex. I didn’t know why boys got erections, and I don’t really even remember thinking about them. I knew that it got that way sometimes, and even knew it felt good, especially when you were playing with a friend, but I hadn’t made the leap to playing with myself. I told Gary the only thing I could.

"It gets that way sometimes when I’m playing with friends."

Then I looked down at his lap.

"Yours is getting bigger, too."

He looked at me, reached for me, but then stopped. He stood up, his own peter standing upright and looking to be about as big as mine.

"Can I touch it?" he asked, more nervous now than he had been when I pulled his pj bottoms down.

I nodded.

His hand felt wonderful. Without awaiting permission, I reached forward, putting my index and middle fingers under his and running my thumb up and down the length of his shaft.

His body went stiff, and he sighed. Then he started trying to duplicate the movement.

It felt wonderful.

We stood like that for a moment, then took turns kneeling down to examine each other’s equipment. Despite the fact that I was several inches taller than Gary, our lean, hard peters seemed to be almost the same length. It did seem that my balls were a bit bigger than his, and that his were tighter up against his legs, but it wasn’t much difference.

After that, we stood and came close to each other, trying to line the little guys up for a more direct measurement that just seemed to prove out what we’d already thought. I might have been a fraction of an inch longer than Gary, but only a bare fraction, and we seemed to be about the same thickness.

From there, we both nearly had a giggling fit as Gary started a sword fight that both lasted a few minutes and felt amazingly good.

And then some music caught my attention.

"Movie’s about to start," I warned him, as the Tonight Show was coming to an end. "If you want to…"

My throat was still thick, but he understood what I meant. He sat back on the couch, and I stretched out across his lap.

By that time, I wasn’t being spanked over the knees anymore, but I still knew the position well. It felt funny to be across legs that were not only bare, but smaller than my own. Still, with the couch to support us, it wasn’t a problem

Though the movie was about to start, Gary took his time in rubbing my rear, and I think he enjoyed the sensation as much as I did. Still, only a few seconds could have passed before his hand raised up and smacked down.

It stung, but not in a bad way. It wasn’t the harsh, painful sting of discipline, but the comfortable, welcome sting of a baseball smacking your glove or a game of slaps. The slaps landed slowly, and the sting of each faded into a pleasant, tingly warmth before the next landed.

Of course, the fact that my hard little dick was rubbing up against his bare thigh as each smack landed didn’t detract from the feelings. I’m sure I could have lain still, but I was wiggling around and playing to it a bit, more for the sensations in front than in back.

And then he stopped.

I rolled partly back to look at him, and he pointed at the screen. The generic introduction for the Late Night Movies was rolling. I had absolutely no interest in being spanked, but there was some reluctance as I rolled to my feet.

As the movie introduced us to the two astronauts who were the heroes of that particular movie, Gary and I rushed to jump back into our pajamas, before stretching out on the floor.



Both of us had trouble staying awake that late, at least until the final fight scenes started. We were both drooping more than a little as we went back to his bedroom.

I paused for a final pit stop, then went into the bedroom, where Gary already had the covers back.

"You want to sleep with no pajamas?" he asked.

"Won’t your mom see?"

"Nah. She won’t bother us in the morning, ‘cause she knows we stayed up late."

The evidence was obvious that Gary was as excited by the idea as I was, and we both slipped the cloth off, leaving us nude. We crawled into bed and curled up next to each other. The feel of bare flesh to bare flesh was incredible, but both of us were too tired to do anything about it, and we quickly drifted off to sleep.



I woke dry and happy the next morning. I lay there for a minute, torn between hitting the bathroom and enjoying the warmth for a few seconds more. As I lay there, Gary awoke.

I’d been very careful to limit my fluid intake after dinner, so Gary needed to pee much worse than I did. You could tell he was torn, though, and was suggesting I get up as well. Despite what had happened the night before, both of us were rather shy about leaving the covers. That didn’t keep us from watching each other closely as we pulled our pajamas back on.

Amusingly enough, though we’d been shy about getting out of bed, it didn’t seem to matter when we were crossing streams a moment later. Then we washed up and went to see what was for breakfast.



Boys will be boys, and they love that kind of game. But they love other games as well. As best I can remember, that night of exploration and play didn’t have any effect on our relationship. I don’t even think it was mentioned for a while. I don’t think it’s so much something we forgot about as something that happened, but we knew couldn’t happen often (and that we even had to be careful of discussing). Basically, with the challenges of fifth grade and getting picked for the kickball team, with the interest of comics and our other friends, we didn’t forget it, but we didn’t think about it either.

At least, I didn’t think about it for a month or two, until Gary came up to me one Monday morning.

"Hey, Jack. There’s a Wolfman double feature on Friday night. Think I can spend the night at your house this time?"





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