Bill and Duncan

‘Twas the week before Christmas and all through the store,
Customers flowed in and out through the door,
Trying to decipher obscure gift list lore
Before Christmas Eve, when St. Nick cries, ‘No more’.


It was Wednesday, 23 December, about 9:20 in the evening, and I was beat. It was a happy feeling, though, because sales were far above expectations. We’d just now chased the last of the customers out of the store, though we’d been closed for twenty minutes, and most of the employees were already gone. The doors were locked, David was closing out the cash register, and I was doing all the closing duties that didn’t involve cleaning.

I was a bit surprised to find someone in the game room when I reached in to turn off the light.

"We’re closed, guys."

Both of them jumped at my voice. "Sorry," one of them replied.

"Don’t be. We actually closed at nine, but we had a lot of customers."

They started gathering up their stuff, and I stood, waiting for them. Turning off those last couple of lights was all I had left to do, so it was no huge deal. While they were picking up, I took a look at them.

Neither of them was great looking, but neither was bad, either. As I looked, I realized that, while neither of them was a real regular customer, I knew them both. They were actually classmates of Steve. It took me a second, but I was even able to put names to them. The taller boy was Bill. He had a good, sturdy build to him, though not heavy, like a football player, and his shoulders were balanced by a trim waist. He had bleached blond hair, though the roots were beginning to show, and a nice face— pleasant, clear, and healthy, but not really special. Duncan was shorter, with dark brown hair and a fairly slight build. He wasn’t as attractive as his friend, but had a lot of what I think of as geek appeal: a big nose, a little acne, and glasses. I’d bet he was going to be a good-looking man after a (long and) awkward adolescence.

As they picked up, Duncan glanced back over his shoulder. "I guess we’re too late to rent any videos tonight." It was phrased as a statement, but you could tell he was asking a question.

"Register’s already down guys." I knew that Duncan was big into the anime movies in which we specialized and was a regular customer, so added, "If you know what you want, I guess I can let you grab it and pay for it when you return it."

Bill looked over at the other boy, but Duncan shrugged. "Thanks, but we’d have to look around."

They picked up their stuff and waited for me while I flicked off the lights, then we walked downstairs together.

"Mostly," Bill informed me, "we don’t want to go home. We both have a bunch of relatives over, and our parents keep trying to get us to baby sit all the little kids."

"You two are related?"

Duncan laughed. "No, but that’s how it is in both our houses."

I nodded. "I can understand that. My dad was the oldest and I’m his oldest, so I got stuck with a lot of sitting over the years. Say!" I went on, having a thought, "why don’t you guys come over for a while? I’ll let you borrow a couple of my movies if you want, and we could play some Magic."

They looked at each other and shrugged. "You’re not going to have to deal with your kids?" Bill asked, apparently knowing Steve well enough to realize I had a decent-sized family of my own.

"No," I assured them. "I’m alone right now. Everyone’s over at a relative’s house. I’m all by myself. I’m too tired to go look for something to do, but too keyed up to sit around the house by myself.

Duncan looked at Bill, who nodded, then he agreed. "Oh, we were going to stop at Olive Garden. They have that endless soup and breadsticks deal right now."

"No reason we can’t still. I haven’t eaten yet."



The two of them waited outside while I finished closing, then followed me for a quick side trip to the bank before we hit the restaurant. I was actually very glad I’d run into them. I was tired, but Italian was much better than going home to leftovers or a cold sandwich.



While we were waiting for our orders, Bill asked about Steve, which led to me trying to give the brief version. I explained that Steve was with his mom, Mikell didn’t actually live with me, Aaron was at our dad’s (‘Our’? I let them believe that my dad was just a screaming horndog, rather than giving the long version), Tommy and Caleb were at my mom’s, so they could have a supervised visit with their mom, and Cory and Barry were with their mom. As soon as the guys realized that most of the kids had separate mothers, I had to give the detailed version, which pretty much occupied the conversation until even the two teen-agers were full and ready to go. They’d planned on just the all-you-can-eat, but I wanted some lasagna, which they couldn’t afford, so I’d ended up buying them entrees. ‘As a Christmas present’, I insisted, when they protested.

The guys were impressed when we got to my house. They started looking around as soon as I turned on the lights. Bill was examining the TV and stereo, while Duncan had been drawn right to the video library. It was Bill that caught the one incongruent note.

"Why’s this in the living room?" he asked, holding up a bath brush.

"Oh," I replied as casually as I could, "I must have left it there after I threatened to spank Mikell the other day."

"You spank Mikell? He’s in high school, isn’t he?"

"Yeah, he’s a freshman; but I didn’t say I spanked him. I said I threatened to spank him. Sometimes a good threat’s all you need."

I noticed Duncan was looking a bit uncomfortable, so I excused myself, and let the two of them look at my anime videos and Magic cards, while I cleaned up and changed clothes. It didn’t take long, but they’d selected a couple of movies they wanted to borrow and were engrossed in the Magic collection.

Bill looked up when I walked back in. "I don’t guess you’d trade any of these," he asked.

"I keep my best stuff separate, so I’d trade anything in there, I guess. Now, if you have anything I’d trade for is another question."

We spent a little time trading cards, but they didn’t really have much I wanted. Most of the cards I was looking for were extremely old (by Magic standards) and rare. While we did our trade, I mentioned losing a couple of really rare cards in the early days of Magic, by anteing.

A quick aside. An ante in Magic is similar to an ante in poker. Except, instead of money, you bet a card. When Magic was first released, the rules stated, ‘Shuffle your deck, allow your opponent to cut it, then take the top card and set it aside. This is your ante. The winner of the game keeps both ante cards.’ Of course, there were a lot of complaints about that, from uneven risk, to losing one’s best card, to having the single card you really needed to win the game sitting in the ante. We made some house rules dealing with ante, it was removed from tournament play, and was eventually removed from the rules all together. Still, the game had been designed for gambling, and it wasn’t incredibly rare to overhear someone making bets on a game (and still isn‘t, I guess).

I managed to find a few things I needed and let them get some cards that they really wanted, but that wouldn’t hurt me much to lose. When we finished trading, I was ready to play, but the two of them were primed by some of my anteing stories, and Bill suggested, "Hey, you could ante some of these," pointing at a few cards that they’d really wanted, but just didn’t have anything I needed enough to trade for them.

It only took me a second’s thought to combine an old method of anteing we’d used when we were sure we had the most awesome deck around with my favorite past time. "I’ll tell you what. If you beat me, I’ll let you have any one card out of there that you want. If I beat you, I’ll spank you with that brush."

Duncan looked extremely uncomfortable all the sudden, but Bill seemed excited and agreed right away. He was trying to persuade Duncan, when I cut in.

"Dunc doesn’t have to play if he doesn’t want to, Bill; but I’ll tell you what. I’ll play you two on one. If you beat me, you each get a card."

Duncan looked much more interested now, but still cautious. "How would you spank us?"

"It don’t matter," Bill interjected.

I agreed with him, but still answered the question.

"Oh, let say, over my knee, pants down, one swat for each year old you are…."

"Do you have to use the brush?"

What the heck—it was just in fun. A little material for a bedtime fantasy. Plus, I was sure there wasn’t much risk. Neither of them was a tournament player, so I wasn’t too worried. And even if I lost, it wouldn’t be too hard for me to replace any card in that box.

"Okay, just my hand."

They both agreed.

I dug into my case and pulled out a deck that was especially designed for group games. It wasn’t ideal for a two-on-one situation, but should do the job. It worked better than I’d expected, though, because Duncan’s deck wasn’t designed for a fast start. Bill hit me a few times, but Duncan only caught me twice. I was down to eight life, while both of them were still at twenty, but then I was ready to unleash a tornado of destruction upon the two of them. I was still at eight life about five minutes later, when I took Duncan down to zero. Bill had already been out of the game and rooting for his buddy when it happened. We were on the floor, and Duncan just groaned, rolling over onto his back and covering his eyes.

"Good game, guys," I assured them, as I stood. I didn’t have a spanking chair in the living room and the two of them were two big to lie on the couch for a spanking, so I led them into the kitchen and pulled a chair from the table. Turning it to face them, I sat down.

"Who’s first?"

"Oh, come on." Duncan protested. "You weren’t serious were you?"

"You made the bet, Duncan. Would you have taken one of my cards if you’d won?"

He just shrugged. Bill seemed a bit confused by his friend’s behavior, but looked like he just shrugged it off. "I’ll go first."

He undid his jeans and shoved them down his legs, revealing nice, lightly haired legs and a pair of sports trunks. He started to place himself across my lap, but I stopped him.

"Duncan. If you’re not going to pay up, then turn around or go in the living room." I wasn’t going to fight with the kid about it, and he certainly wasn’t the first boy to back out on a bet, but I was a little ticked at him and was not going to spank him buddy in front of him.

With Duncan’s back turned, Bill dropped into place. He took it really well, almost too well for it to be much fun. I was giving full, hard swats, but he just lay there.

Finally, as the count reached the upper teens, he began to show a little reaction, but not much more than Tommy would have shown for the first swats. Still, it was fun to spank a new guy, though it would have been more fun to spank him with his buddy watching.

I let Bill climb to his feet and he made me feel a little better by giving his backside a brisk rub before pulling up his jeans. As he was fastening them, I was wondering what to say, when Bill surprised me.

"C’mon, Duncan. You know you would have taken the card if we won. You made the bet and lost. Now you gotta pay."

I could feel my left eyebrow doing its Mr. Spock impersonation at this little speech and was beginning to wonder about Bill. Duncan turned back to us, blushing a bit and looking both exasperated and put upon, but finally shrugged his shoulders.

"Fine," he said, as he stepped over to me. "But do I have to take down my pants?"

"No, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. Would you rather not do it?"

I waited for him to shake his head that he didn’t. Then I reached up and began to undo them for him.

"Hey! What’re you doing?" he asked as he jumped back from me.

"You said you didn’t want to take them down, so I was gonna do it for you." Bill had a good laugh, causing Duncan to glare at him, even while blushing harder.

"Fine, I’ll do it."

And he did. He was wearing 501s, and, as the buttons came undone, he revealed a fresh, white pair of Calvin Klein briefs. Geek-cute, briefs, and he loved anime; I was going to have to check his comic list, but I think I could love this kid.

When his fly was spread, he shoved the jeans down to his knees, but then stood there for a moment, just staring and obviously not happy. I almost didn’t notice since I was distracted by the rather large bulge in the front of his briefs. When I did notice, I decided I’d reached the point where I was tired of messing with him. It just didn’t seem worth more trouble, and especially not any hard feelings.

"Just pull ‘em up, Duncan. If you really don’t want to do it, I’m not going to make you."

He looked at me for a minute and even reached for his jeans, but then glanced at Bill. Bill was looking at him. I couldn’t read anything into Bill’s expression, but I guess Duncan was more afraid of looking weak in front of his buddy than he was of getting spanked—especially since the spanking hadn’t been all that much. He shrugged, then bent down and put his hands on my left leg and slowly lowered himself into place, reluctance and disgust showing in his every move.

If he wasn’t going to back out, I certainly wasn’t going to make him. His spanking wasn’t any harder than Bill’s had been, though I would have liked to have made it harder. The boy needed to learn a lesson about making a bet if he weren’t prepared to pay the forfeit, but he was going through with it, even if there had been so much drama it had ruined most of the fun for me.

I clapped my hand down firmly, back and forth. The only way I took it easier on Duncan was, since he was wearing briefs, I was careful to avoid his upper legs, and kept every swat on the thin cotton. I have to admit that I did love watching a red glow slowly begin to shine through his briefs as I smacked back and forth between his cheeks.

Duncan took the spanking pretty well. He wiggled and squirmed a bit more than Bill had, but didn’t fight or complain. When I let him up, his eyes might have been a little damp, but he hardly embarrassed himself. He paused long enough to give his cheeks a short, but brisk rub, then fixed his pants. Looking at that bulge again, I really wished I could see him naked and doing a real fire dance, but I was half wondering if I’d ever see him again at all.

After Duncan had dressed, we went back into the living room. The two of them started putting up their Magic cards, but Bill and I started talking a bit. By the time they were ready to go, we were talking about anime, and he sat down on the couch. He’d driven, so Duncan didn’t seem to have much choice but to wait for him. At first, Bill seemed put out at his friend, and Duncan seemed uncomfortable or shy. After a bit, Duncan responded to something I said, and our conversation switched from Japanese animation to Japanese comics. By the time the two of them left, Duncan was carrying a couple of books he’d borrowed from me, and I felt he’d overcome any lingering embarrassment he’d had.



Duncan had rather ruined the mood for me that evening, but I did manage a few nice fantasies featuring Bill’s laughing approach to things; though I honestly kept coming back more to Duncan and imagining what he’d be like if he’d really been in trouble and had to take a spanking from me.

The next day all my little chicks came home to roost, and we had a great Christmas. Mikell was the only one of ‘my boys’ over whom I had no legal authority, but his family never did anything on Christmas Eve, so he was able to join us. My mom came over that night, and we exchanged gifts from Granny and with Mikell. The next morning, Mary and my brothers came over, along with Cathy, who stayed with Corey and Barry until about 8am, when she left to go to her parents’ house. Christmas is always best with little kids in the house, and Tommy, Corey, and Caleb made sure we had a great one (Barry was only 21 months at that time).

By the next day, I was back at work. All the boys were scattered again, visiting various friends or relatives, so I was expecting to have a quiet evening at home (and as fun as Christmas is, quiet days right after are appreciated). It wasn’t long before I was going to leave when Bill came strolling in. He said he was there to return the videos they’d borrowed, but then hung around to talk. After a while, he got around to asking what I had planned for the night.

"Nothing," I informed him. "Quiet evening at home."

"Oh. Okay. I thought maybe you’d like to play some Magic."

Hmmm. Me and Bill by ourselves. No Duncan to dump water on the mood. If nothing else, I could give him a few pointers and have grist for fresh fantasies that night. "That sounds good to me, but I want to get out of here. Come over?"

"Sure. When do you get off?"

I ignored the obvious pun, proving I’m much more mature than some people claim. "I’m the owner, Bill. I get off whenever I like. Let me make sure everything’s under control and let David know I’m going.

Fifteen minutes later, Bill was pulling into the driveway behind me. Once in the house, as soon as I’d changed out of my work clothes, I got us snacks, and we sprawled out on the floor to play cards. We played a game, then took apart his deck and made a few improvements. We talked about deck building for a while, then took one of mine apart to show him how it worked. When we played again, he did much better, though I still beat him. My big surprise came while we were shuffling for a third game.

"You gonna give me another chance to win one of those cards I wanted?"

"You want another chance? What are you gonna bet?"

"You’re gonna give me a handicap, aren’t you?"

"What? You think, just because I beat you and Duncan together, I should give you extra life or something? Okay," I went on with almost no pause, "how about fifty life. I’ll stay at twenty. We can even play a match, instead of just one game."

"Sounds good to me. You gonna spank me again if I lose?"

"I don’t think I made much of an impression on you last time."

He shrugged. "I guess it stung a little. Don’t tell me—you’re gonna use that brush."

"Which brush?" I asked, knowing what he meant.

"That thing you said you were gonna spank Mikell with."

"Okay. How many swats should I give you?"

"I’ll tell you what, if you win, why don’t you just give me a real spanking?"

"Have you ever had a real spanking?"

"Yeah. Not in a while, though, and Dad just used his hand mostly. It doesn’t really matter anyway."

I had to think about that one for a minute. "Why, exactly, does it not matter?"

"I was in a car wreck about a year, year and a half ago, and my wrist got screwed up real bad. It doesn’t hurt as bad as it used to, but they won’t let me take the pain medication anymore, so…."

Even as he was explaining it, he showed me the scars where they’d had to go in and reconstruct the wrist bones. It certainly looked painful. Still….

"You mean to tell me that, because your wrist hurts, it won’t bother you to get spanked?"

He just shrugged.

"Okay, what about embarrassment?"

"What d’ya mean?" he asked.

"I mean, the other day, you dropped your pants before I spanked you. For real spankings, you don’t keep your boxers on."

Like I said, Bill had bleached his hair blond, but he was normally dark-haired. However, he had green eyes and a very fair complexion. It took him just a second to realize what I’d meant by embarrassment, and his fair complexion suddenly became obvious as he went red. But he didn’t back down.

"Yeah, okay. I mean, it‘s not like you don’t have kids, is it? My dad usd to spank me like that sometimes, and Steve’s my age and you’ve spanked him before, right?"

"Well, not recently. I’ve seen him naked a lot, but I haven’t had to spank him in a while. I’m sure I could still handle it, if I had to. You’re sure?"

"Yeah."

Okay, I’d been fair. I’d given him warning. I certainly wasn’t going to keep trying to talk him out of it.

I’m sure you don’t want to hear the blow by blow of the games we played, but two games later, we were climbing to our feet, and Bill was suddenly looking a little chagrined and nervous.

"The bath brush is in my bathroom, hanging in the shower." I didn’t figure he really wanted or needed to know that there was another one in my office and two more upstairs in the boys’ bathrooms.

He left the living room, mumbling to himself, but he seemed to be fairly good-natured about it. When he came back to the living room, he only looked around for me for a second, then crossed into the kitchen, where I’d taken him and Duncan over my lap before.

"Is this where you spank all your kids?" he asked. Interesting phrasing: was he considering himself one of my kids now?

"No, I don’t think I actually spank anyone in here. Anyone else, I mean. If someone was in trouble, I’d probably take him to my office. On the other hand, we didn’t live here when it was just me and Steve, so there’s not usually this kind of privacy." I paused for a second. "You ready?"

He shrugged his shoulders, but handed me the brush, then undid his jeans. He was wearing more traditional boxers today, but I didn’t have much chance to admire then, since he shoved them and his jeans down to his knees in a wad.

Bill had been wearing just a t-shirt under his coat, and it wasn’t especially long; so when his clothes went down, I had a clear view of his hair color when it wasn’t bleached. It was a very dark brown that was almost black. His equipment wasn’t especially big, but wasn’t tiny enough to be cute, either. I guess he looked about average, but the shaft might have been a little thin. On the other hand, the one outstanding feature he had was a rather pronounced head, so maybe the shaft just looked tiny in comparison. I guess it didn’t really matter either way. He wasn’t totally limp, but was far from excited enough to be showing his true size.

He’d not stood there long enough for me to get a good study, anyway. As soon as his jeans were down, he started to put himself across my lap. I got a good glimpse of his bat, but only saw enough to tell that his balls weren’t what you’d call danglers, before he was bent too far forward. I raised my arms and let him put himself into position, then I took his hips and guided him just a bit. His backside was as nice as I’d expected from his first trip over my lap; firm, but round, and only slightly dimpled. It was also smooth, with only a few dark hairs creeping out of the crack. I could only see his upper thighs, but they weren’t very hairy either. His crotch hair had been fairly thick, and he hadn’t lifted his t-shirt, but I tried to remember if I’d seen any hints of a happy trail, and was suddenly wondering if he was naturally smooth, or if he’d shaved somewhat recently. He did cultivate something of a surfer boy look, so maybe he’d shaved for the summer. I rubbed the brush across each cheek, teasing him with it just a bit. He might have flinched when the brush first touched, but it hadn’t been much.

"So, I should just keep going until you start to cry, Bill?"

"I’m not going to cry," he assured me, confident and perhaps a bit exasperated.

"Okay, so I can just keep going until it looks like you’re about to start bruising or something?"

"Yeah. I guess it’d be good if you didn’t do that."

He didn’t even sound too worried about my leaving him black and blue, so I decided not to worry about it myself. The first two smacks were fast and hard; one right on the center of either cheek. He did flinch then, but not a lot. The next swats weren’t as hard and were much slower, but carefully placed. Whether he was going to cry or not, I had plenty of time and wanted to take my time with this.

I was taking two or three seconds between each swat, carefully working around those first two with the goal of evening out the red. That kind of care is hard with a bath brush, even with an adult, because of the size of the spanking area, and there was plenty of overlap. I wasn’t using a metronome, though, and made sure there was plenty of variance in the beat. I’d give several slow ones, then give a number of rapid-fire shots that weren’t as carefully placed. I’d move back and forth, then give several to one cheek. I was deliberately trying to make my only guide keeping the redness somewhat even everywhere.

At first, his only reaction was when I placed a couple of swats on his upper thighs. Even that didn’t get much. I just kept going, though. I didn’t try to count how many smacks he got, but I must have spanked for four minutes or so, considering the slow rate I was doing. Only at the end did I pick up steadily, slowly increasing, until the swats were almost all wrist action, but falling every second or even faster.

By the halfway point, he was starting to react to every smack. I never had to hold his hands out of the way and I never heard a sound from him, but his feet began to jerk, then the spasms spread up and across his body. By the time I placed a few rapid-fire smacks on his sit spots, he was definitely squirming. I also had the idea that he was poking me in my leg.

"Okay, Bill. That’s it, Buddy. Guess you were right. You didn’t cry. Hop up now."

"Okay. Give me a second."

There might have been a hint of moisture in that voice, but the request for time rather confirmed my suspicions.

"Nope. You’re too heavy. You’re killing my legs. Up!"

I didn’t wait for his answer, but dropped the brush on the table behind me, and shifted my weight. As soon as he said ‘In a minute’, I was in motion and pushing myself out of the chair, which had the effect of flipping him over.

He might not have cried, but I’d tenderized him pretty well. When his butt hit the floor, his first instinct was to arch his back, removing the sore spot from contact, and reach behind to rub. That left his hard-on very well exposed.

As soon as he realized his position, he tried to cover himself, but I stopped him.

"Is that why you didn’t want to get up?"

His face was nearly as red as his backside, but he admitted it.

"Don’t be embarrassed, Bill. That just happens to some guys when they get spanked. C’mere." I added, reaching my hand down to him and helping him stand.

He wasn’t especially well hung—about average length—I could now see that his balls were decent sized, but almost right up against his crotch. His shaft had filled out a bit now that he was happy, but the crown was still prominent and impressive. I wasn’t sure whether I’d want that thing in my mouth or not. It looked like a jaw ache waiting to happen.

He started to fix his clothes, but I caught his attention, "If you need to take care of that thing, go ahead."

"You mean jack off?" he asked in a small voice, stopping with his pants only halfway up his thigh.

"I really hate that term," I responded, "but yeah, that’s what I mean."

He looked around for a second, almost in a panic, before I added, "I was thinking about the bathroom, Bill. You could put this up, too," I said, picking up the brush and handing it to him.

Bill was only gone a few minutes. When he came back, he was dressed, his face was flushed, but he had the definite air of someone who was sated. He also seemed pretty embarrassed. He started to get his stuff together, but I stopped him. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was so normal, it caught him off guard.

"You don’t mind?" was his response, having nothing to do with what I’d just asked.

"What? You masturbating? It’s no big deal, Bill. I live with three teenagers. It’s not like I try to watch, but you think it doesn’t go on around here?" I gave him a moment to shrug, then went on. "Anyway, they did a recent study. It shows that 95% of teenage boys admit to masturbating and that the other five percent lie about it."

I guess he’d not heard that one before because it shocked a particularly boyish sounding giggle out of him. After that, he relaxed and we talked another forty minutes or so before he finally did really need to leave.



The next day was Friday. I wasn’t too excited one way or the other. It was nice to have the Christmas rush through, but being busy can be fun in it’s own way. I’d not seen much of the kids lately. Steve had stopped by the store that morning to let me know he was home. Mikell was going to be there for the weekend, but Tommy and Caleb weren’t coming back from Granny’s until tomorrow morning, and I wasn’t going to get Corey and Barry until Sunday evening. I love the kids but appreciate time to myself as well, so it was all good.

It was about mid-afternoon when the door chimed and I looked up to see Duncan come in. He said hello when I greeted him, but looked a bit uncomfortable as well, so I moved away. He was acting almost like a shoplifter—just randomly drifting around and checking on me almost constantly, so I finally went over to him.

After a bit of small talk, I finally broached the subject. "Did you want to talk to me about something, Duncan?"

Instead of answering, he started looking around like he was preparing to commit treason, so I offered to take him to my office so we could talk in private. Once there, he seemed to relax a lot.

"I just wanted to thank you for dinner the other night," he said, though he’d thanked me at the time. He took a deep breath before he could go on. "And to apologize for being such a wuss."

"You weren’t a wuss, Duncan," I assured him.

"Yeah, I was. I woulda backed out if Bill hadn’t been there."

"Maybe, but the important thing is, you didn’t. If you don’t mind, though, let me give you a little advice."

I waited while he nodded his acquiescence, then continued. "Betting can be a lot of fun. A little risk can make a game a lot more exhilarating. However, never bet anything you can’t afford to lose or aren’t willing to pay off. Some people are really touchy about things like that, and a person can get hurt if they don’t pay off."

He nodded, probably already knowing that, and looked away for a minute. When he looked back at me, I went on.

"The thing is, it’s not important that you didn’t want to be spanked. If you didn’t want to do that, you should have just said so. Before you make the bet, it’s no big deal, just like getting spanked wasn’t a big deal to Bill, but it seemed to be to you."

He shrugged, but didn’t have anything to say, so I kept going.

"I don’t know you very well, but I do know teenage boys and I know people around here in general, so let me take a guess about something. You’re already eighteen, right?

"Yeah."

"When’s your birthday? October?"

"September second."

"Then you’re one of the oldest kids in your class. And I’m going to bet that you got your last whipping when you were already fifteen; right?"

He shook his head, but also blushed, which told me the next answer.

"When you were older?"

He admitted it with a nod.

"And, if your dad is average, you probably got it with a belt, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it was on your bare butt."

He was blushing deep red, but nodded again.

"Bill said he got his last spanking when he was eleven; so of course it wasn’t a big deal to him. If you got your last whipping when you were sixteen.…" I let it trail off for a second, and he stepped in.

"Seventeen."

"Seventeen?" I echoed, a bit surprised and a lot delighted.

"Last summer, Dad caught me and Colin— that’s my little brother—sneaking a couple of his beers and he wore us both out."

I made a mental note to fish for info about his little brother later. Just the idea of a seventeen year old getting strapped with his little brother had my little buddy paying attention.

"Anyway, the point is that it’s been a few months since your last spanking, but it’s been six or seven years for Bill. Just because something doesn’t bug him doesn’t mean it can’t bother you. Do what you want to do, Duncan. Okay?

He nodded, but seemed to totally change the subject. "Bill said you two played again last night, and you beat him."

Figuratively and literally, I might add. It didn’t seem to be a question, so I just nodded and waited. After a moment’s silence, he went on.

"You got anything going tonight?"

"Nope. Most of the kids are still away, and Mikell and Steve are taking their girlfriends skating. Just me again."

"You gonna give me a second chance?"

"You wanna play again? Sure, I get off at five. You can come over. I’ll even fix some dinner. Is Bill coming?"

"No. I mean, yeah, Bill wants to come and that sounds great, but I mean are you going to give me another chance to win one of those cards, like you did Bill?"

"How much did Bill tell you about our bet?"

"He said you spanked his bare butt with that brush."

"Did he say how many?"

He shook his head. "Not exactly. A bunch."

The boy was already looking nervous, which made up my mind. "Why don’t you two just come over tonight and play. You don’t have anything to prove…."

"Yes, I do," he interrupted, before I could add ‘to me’. Maybe he didn’t have anything to prove to me, but either he was worried about what Bill thought of him, or he was feeling like a coward himself. Either way, if he really wanted it, I guess he was old enough to decide for himself.

"The guys leave for the skating rink about 6:15. Why don’t y’all come over around 6:30. That’ll give me time to clean up and make some of my famous cheese dip."

Duncan agreed and took off.



To be honest, I was betting myself as to whether the boy would just ‘forget’ about our plans altogether or just the wager. As 6:30 neared and passed, I decided his nerves had got the best of him.

They pulled up at 6:40.

"Sorry," Duncan told me when I opened the door, "Bill forgot which turn it was. I should have got your address this afternoon."

I put out bowls of dip and chips, and we spread out on the floor. We played a couple of multi-player games, then I helped Duncan with his deck, like I had Bill the night before. After that, I watched the two of them play each other, while making a few comments and suggestions. When Duncan won that game, he surprised me again.

"You ready for our match now?"

"You sure you want to bet, Duncan?"

He didn’t look at Bill or think about it. "I’m sure."

"And what are we betting?"

"If I win, I get to choose any one of your cards. If I lose, I gotta pull down my pants and shorts and you’re gonna whip my bare butt with that brush ‘til you think I’ve had enough. Can we make it just one game though?"

I don’t know if he just wanted to get it over with or what, but I was willing. I even made him a little side-bet.

"Instead of as many swats as I think you can take, what if, if I win, I give you one swat for every life point I beat you by?"

Since I was starting at twenty and he was starting at fifty, that must have seemed like a great deal to him. You should have seen his face when the first card I dropped was one that would allow me to gain life every time either one of us played a certain type of card. He played well; better than Bill, in fact, but not well enough. When my last attack reduced him to zero life, I had forty-two. At that point, I went into the kitchen and turned a chair, while he went to get the brush. Bill climbed onto the couch, but made sure he had a good view.

When Duncan came back, he handed me the brush, then started to undress. He was wearing a flannel shirt, and unbuttoned it, revealing a tank-style undershirt that was obviously tucked into his briefs. He removed the flannel shirt, then his belt, before beginning to unfasten his jeans. He was wearing 501s again, and I loved watching as he undid each button, slowly letting the fly spread apart to reveal the rest of his undies.

Once the jeans were open, he slid them down, just below his knees, stood and slid his briefs down almost as far, then stood, pulled his undershirt up a bit, giving me a brief, but good look at him, before he put himself over my lap again for the second time that week.

He definitely hadn’t shaved. His legs weren’t thick with hair, but he had a good pubic patch, and more than a trace of a happy trail. Looking up, I even noticed a few hairs sneaking over the top of his undershirt. That wasn’t my main area of focus, though. All I can say is, no wonder I’d noticed the bulge the last time I’d spanked him: the kid was hung. He was almost totally soft, and I’m willing to bet he was still nearly six-and-one-half inches. I just hoped he was a shower, not a grower. The boys were a good size, but not in proportion to his favorite toy, though they did have a nice dangle.

Once he was over my lap, I could see that his cheeks, which were nice, but not as round and not quite as firm as Bill’s, were very lightly haired, though that in the crack was a bit thicker and longer. It was still a really nice adolescent bottom, and the hair didn’t detract from that too much.

He wasn’t as stoical as Bill, but he didn’t embarrass himself either. Since I only had forty-two swats to work with, I was slower and a bit firmer than I had been with his friend. He was kicking and jerking almost from the start, but that just made it more fun for me. As his cheeks went from pink, to rosy, to a true red, his reactions became stronger and faster, but I still didn’t have to hold his hands until I landed a couple of swats on his upper legs, somewhere near the end. I heard a few sobs, but he never did cry. After heating his sit spots, I placed the last two swats right over his anus, and he yelped with both of those; but, if they weren’t dry, they were barely damp. I dropped the brush, rubbed his seat for a second, then helped him up.

Duncan didn’t mind standing, and hadn’t developed the same problem Bill had the night before, though maybe he wasn‘t quite as limp as he had been. He did do a much better fire dance and I had to smile, watching him try to jump around with his jeans nearly at his ankles. That restriction wasn’t enough to stop his boyhood from bouncing all over the place, though. I looked up to notice that Bill was at the edge of the kitchen and was smiling as broadly as I was. I had to laugh.

"What?" Duncan said, suddenly stopping in mid-rub.

"I was just thinking that, if we ever did this again, I’m going to have to bet that you get naked if you lose. I want to see you do a spank dance without those jeans around your legs."

He looked stunned for a minute, then realized what he’d been doing, and joined Bill and me in our laugh, even as he hastily yanked his briefs into place.



I never did have the chance to make that bet with Duncan. He’d wanted to prove something, and he’d done it and had enough. Bill, on the other hand, became a regular visitor with me. He even got good enough to win a few games. That next year, Duncan went off to college. Bill’s family didn’t have a lot of money, and he stayed in Bransom and worked while attending. It took him six years, but he did graduate. During that time, I spanked him on a pretty regular basis. It finally ended when he found a girlfriend who was willing to do it for him. After he graduated college, he moved and I’ve not seen him in over three years. Though Duncan lives in New England now, he comes home every Christmas and always makes a point of stopping by and playing a game with me. We don’t bet on them, though.



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