David Ward

It was a beautiful day. I think it was about a month after school had started— late September or early October. Middle school wasn’t turning out to be half as bad as I’d thought it would be, though showering with a bunch of other guys, most of whom weren’t as developed as I was, still seemed a bit weird and was very awkward; I’d had to find an excuse to delay showering a couple of times while waiting for… things to calm down. Then there’d been that one time when one of the guys had been paddled the period before gym class. His butt had still been dark red when he stripped down for the showers. Mr. Happy just wouldn’t relax after seeing that, so I just used a little extra deodorant and snuck out of the locker room.

For the most part, life was good, though. Even those locker room problems were good, though embarrassing at the time. It was a wonderful early fall day. The heat of summer was finally fading, but it was still warm and sunny. I’d had no homework that day and was on the way to see what my best friend was doing.

I pushed my bike out of the garage and was just coming down the street when I saw David Ward turn the corner, going the opposite direction. I called out to him. He was only a couple of houses away from me and across the street, but he didn’t seem to hear me. I looked at him for a second; he was walking, watching his feet, hands by his side. He must have been lost in his own thoughts or depressed about something. I thought about going after him, but David and I weren’t really close, so I took the turn, going back the way he’d come.

David was the little brother of my best friend, John. I’d known John for about a year by that time. We’d met by accident, but had quickly become nearly constant companions. John was a year older than me, so we were only just now going to the same school. A guy I knew had come up to me at recess one day. I never thought of him as a friend, but we went to church together and he’d learned of my interest in comics. He told me there was a kid he knew, who lived on his block, whom I had to meet. The kid to whom he introduced me was named Andy. Andy was not a good-looking kid and only a fifth grader, but he was hugely into comics. The two of us started talking comics and he invited me to his house that afternoon. His collection was bigger than mine and wonderfully eclectic . He read most of the stuff I did. It was great to have someone who could have an in-depth conversation on comics. Andy’s best friend, who lived just a few houses down from him, was David Ward, which is how I came to meet John.

I’d only gone a block or so further when I saw John peddling towards me. He came to the entrance to The Trails and started to turn but looked up, saw me coming, and stopped. At his wave, I stood up for more speed and quickly caught up to him. He seemed to be in a hurry and was obviously excited about something.

"What’s happening?" I called out.

I loved looking at John. Looking at pictures now, I can see how cute he was, but back then, I thought he was incredibly handsome. He wore his collar-length, dark brown hair in something that wasn’t quite a bowl cut, but didn’t quite part in the middle either. He had a habit of trying to push the bangs off his forehead with one hand, which never seemed to work more than a few seconds. He had a lean face, with high, strong cheekbones. I loved his full lips and sharp, dimpled chin, but it was his deep, dark blue eyes that I thought were his best feature. He burned as easily as I did, so his skin was almost always pale, but it was also clear, without acne or freckle. I was fairly tall for my age, about 5’2" or 3", but John was still slightly taller than me, though he was leaner than I was.

John winced at my bad imitation of the TV show but quickly answered me. "Mom’s really pissed at David. She sent him over to Uncle Bob’s house."

It seemed a non sequitur to me, or at least not a reason to be excited. I vaguely knew who John meant. Their uncle lived on the same street I did, but at the far end of it, about ten blocks from my house. The guy had two sons, Ricky and Randy, who were about the same age as John and David (Ricky was the same age as John, a year older than me, and Randy was a year younger than David). I vaguely knew the cousins and knew the uncle by sight; but John and David liked their uncle and cousins. Why would their mom send him to their uncle’s if she were mad at him? More importantly, why would John be excited about it? I guess my confusion must have been evident.

"If Mom sends us to Uncle Bob, it’s to get spanked. David’s gonna get the strap."

John and David did not get along very well most of the time. They didn’t hate each other, but they weren’t exactly friends either. Knowing that David would be getting a whipping explained his big brother’s excitement, but not the hurry. As a matter of fact, just like I knew why John was excited, he knew me well enough to know I’d be excited by the news as well. I liked his little brother more than he did, but John was my best friend, and it’s hard to hide an interest from someone like that.

John and David had both told me that they didn’t really get spanked. Their mom would sometimes whip them with a belt, but it was always over pants and never more than a few swats while she chased them around, as much on their legs as their bottoms. Once they got to their room, she left them alone while she calmed down.

"I know where we can watch, but we gotta hurry."

Now I understood and was suddenly in as big a hurry as John was.



It’s hard to explain how the area of town in which I lived back then was laid out. Two different areas of town met there, along with a large lot of undeveloped, private property, which we called ‘The Trails’ (and which wasn’t developed until the mid-90s, as I recall), and the high school. Of the four major streets right around our house, two of them bend almost 90 degrees before reaching their ends, so the sector in which I lived looked part of a crescent moon. Instead of trying to explain it to you, just believe me when I say that The Trails ran behind most of the road on which I lived, but not behind my house. By jumping into the trails, we could come up behind Uncle Bob’s house, without anyone noticing we were there.

Given that we were taking a short cut, riding our bikes, and were much more motivated than David had been, John and I were behind his uncle’s house and up a tree, with our bikes hidden nearby, and talking quietly before David even got there. John had obviously done this before and had known just which tree to choose. Though it was early fall, it was Texas, and the leaves hadn’t begun to thin yet, so we had plenty of cover.

Before climbing the tree, we snuck up and climbed onto the chain link fence. The shed was almost right up against the fence, so with just a little boost, we were able to see inside, and John was able to point out the strap that would be used. It didn’t look very formidable; about as wide as my own belt, but not even that long, maybe sixteen inches. I guess it could have been a very little kid’s belt, but I couldn’t see any holes on it. Rather than a buckle, it had what looked like a paintbrush handle attached to one end, from which it hung. I mentioned my doubts to John, but he assured me it was much thicker than a belt, very stiff, and stung like the devil. He also pointed out a sawhorse with a wide crossbeam that stood by itself and was where the boy had to position himself.

Once we were up the tree, John began to tell me what would be happening soon now. There was something about the tone of his voice as he explained to me that their mom had already called and talked to her former brother-in-law. When David arrived, Uncle Bob would have him strip down to his briefs while still in the house, then would escort the boy to the shed. From what John said, the shed was Uncle Bob’s retreat. He did a lot of woodworking in there, as well as minor mechanical work, but he also went out there to have a beer and smoke his pipe. Once in the shed, the boy would finally receive a short lecture, mostly to the point of behaving for his mom and not inconveniencing his uncle, before being told to remove his briefs.

We didn’t have much of a view, but we could see enough of the street to see David walk by, and John went quiet. He’d been hesitant to tell me as much of the spanking procedure as he had and blushed when he did it, and that had been enough to convince me he was telling details he’d observed from both sides.

It took another five minutes of quietly waiting before the backdoor to the house opened. Sure enough, David, wearing nothing but his briefs, was escorted out by his uncle, who towered over the boy. I was hard as a rock.

Our perch was a little precarious, but we were both able to see through the back window of the shed, and could see even more easily when the man reached over and flicked on a light. I was very disappointed that I could only see David’s upper body. Of course, we were too far away to hear anything, but it was obvious what was occurring. Uncle Bob’s hands were moving around as he made his points, and David was wincing and looked like he was already crying. John had told me that while Ricky and Randy made fairly regular trips to the shed, he and David were only sent over on special occasions so weren’t really used to the procedure, which made it even worse.

Finally, after a good five minutes of lecture, David shook his head, then took his glasses off. It was funny, because David looked a lot like his brother but wasn’t especially good looking. Even though they had the same coloring, David’s hair was thin and tended to always be mussed. His face was rounder than John’s, which made his features seem a bit undersized. The main differences were that David’s chin was rounder, weaker, and undimpled, and that he had enough freckles for both brothers. While I loved looking at John, David was just okay. At times, mostly when he wasn't going out of his way to be a total pain to me and his brother, I began to think he was pretty cute and not really a bad guy. Then he'd start harassing us again. I guess a lot of it was less his looks or personality and more that he was jealous of all the time John and I spent together, and he was just trying to get some attention. With his glasses off, David looked rather owlish. I knew he had the same beautiful eyes as his brother, but they couldn’t normally be enjoyed because of his large, tortoiseshell frames.

After another second’s pause, an obvious plea from David, and an angry gesture from Uncle Bob, the boy disappeared from our view for a moment. When he stood back up, his face was so scrunched up, he had to already be crying, but he lifted his arm and handed a piece of white cloth to his uncle. Bob took the briefs from the boy and turned. I couldn’t see his hands, but John told me that Bob was taking the strap from its hanger and replacing it with the briefs. I’d kind of, nearly, seen David naked before, but hadn’t seen anything but his hip and really wished there was some way I could see more now. Even though I didn't think he was really hot, he was still a boy that I liked (a little, anyway). More importantly, he was a boy about to get spanked.

When Bob turned back, he was holding something big and blue—a packing quilt, John informed me—that he handed to David. Then he gestured at the other side of the shed. When he lifted his arm to point, you could see the strap come up, though I wouldn’t have been able to tell what it was if I’d not already seen it. It was definitely stiff, though, since it only bent in a slight curve as it pointed. David winced but turned at his uncle’s direction and moved away from the window.

"We won’t be able to see anything else," John told me. "Do you want to sneak up and listen?"

He didn’t have to ask twice. Glancing around to make sure we were unobserved, we dropped out of the tree and crept up to the fence. I wanted to climb back up, but John stopped me, knowing what would happen to him, at least, if his uncle glanced up and saw us. I loved and worshipped John so much that, even wanting desperately to see what was going on, I let his caution rule (besides, I like seeing spankings, not getting them). Instead, we leaned against the top of the fence and put our heads as close to the window as we could without exposing ourselves.

CRACK!

Even knowing what was coming, the sound made me jump. With his high- pitched, still boyish voice, David’s shriek was piercing. It didn’t seem to bother his uncle, though. There was a long wait before the next crack fell. David cried out again, and I thought I could hear harsh sobs breaking the cry.

John had turned his head and looked at me, and I wondered if my eyes were as glazed as his. I still didn’t understand all the feelings I was having or that my reaction to spanking (well, someone else’s spanking, at least) was pure lust. I did understand it when John’s eyes dropped to the front of my pants for a second just before his hand did.



John’s action didn’t surprise me. After all, John was the boy who’d taught me all about jerking off. It’s funny that I hadn’t figured that out on my own, since I’d had sexual experience as a pre-adolescent with several different boys. I think a lot of it was because, when you’re nine and ten years old, it really feels good and it’s fun, but it’s not as intense as it becomes after you hit puberty. It wasn’t as much fun to do it by myself, so I stopped, once the last of those friends had moved away, and I was suddenly too nervous to look for someone knew with whom to play.

It’s funny thinking back about John trying to introduce me to the idea. I think he was as shy as I was. Their mom was a shift supervisor at a nursing home and worked about ten hour days, Monday through Friday. Their mom was not a real pleasant person, but with her gone from first thing in the morning until nearly 5pm, their house was a great place to hang out.

Despite it only being the two boys all day long, I’d only ever seen John in his underwear once. It had been back at Christmas vacation. I’d shown up pretty early one morning, and David had let me in as he was leaving. John was awake but not really up or dressed yet. When I let him know I was there, he didn’t act really embarrassed, but he did get up and dress, even before making a trip to the bathroom. Still, I got a good look at his obvious bulge and an even better look at a very nice, dimpled rear end, which, as a spanko, and not knowing that the stuff I’d done as a little kid was possible now that my dick was big, interested me a lot more. (I’d seen David in his underwear once, under similar circumstances. Where John was lithe and interesting, David was just skinny. He also wore a pajama top over his briefs, which was the first time I’d ever seen that.)

Because my dad lived on the far side of town, and because of my step-dad’s working nights at that time and being home all day, John very seldom came to my house except when his mom was home. John also wasn’t an early riser and had never seen me in my briefs.

One day, over Spring Break, which had been rather rainy that year, John, David, and I were sitting around trying to think of something to do. John suggested strip poker, which was a favorite game of mine, so I jumped on the idea. We found a deck of cards and retired to David’s bedroom. I won handily, stripping first John, then David. When he lost that last game, John stood up, bent over, and shoved his briefs down past his knees, then pulled them back up before he stood. Even though he’d been practically naked, I didn’t see a thing except his hip. While I wasn’t as interested in David, I was disappointed but not surprised that he did the same thing. I wanted to argue and protest, but didn’t want to seem too interested. I tried to get him to play again but never could.

I was an early bloomer. During sixth grade, I had what seemed like a constant erection. I can really only remember one guy commenting on it, and I was too young to be very embarrassed by it, not really even understanding it. Even though he didn’t comment on it, John must have noticed it. One day, not long after summer had started, he asked me if I could cum. I didn’t even know what the phrase meant. He gave a very general explanation (it’s when white stuff comes out of your dick), but turned red and wouldn’t say anything else.

Finally, one afternoon about a month into summer, John and I were lying on the living room floor. We’d been out messing around all morning but had come in to get something to drink and cool off during the heat of the day. David had spent the night at a friend’s house and their mom was supposed to pick him up on her way home, so we had the house to ourselves for at least four hours. After a period of quiet, John asked me in a nervous, shaky voice, "Do you have any hair on your dick?"

Yeah, I had some and admitted it. The quiet returned for a minute. I think John must have been gathering his courage.

"How big is yours?"

"I dunno. How big is yours?" I responded.

"Four and a quarter inches," he replied in a confident tone. Then, more hesitantly, he added, "Do you want to measure yours?"

It was my turn to be hesitant. I wanted to see him naked but was very shy about being naked. "How?"

"With a ruler." He paused again. Even though we were alone, his voice lowered again. "You can measure mine, if you want."

I did. It took a while to work out the details but was still only a few minutes until we were standing in his bedroom, a school ruler lying on his bed, and both of us slowly stripping down to our briefs. I slept in my underwear and wasn’t really uncomfortable, even around other guys, but this situation just seemed weird. Still, while John seemed as nervous as I did, he didn’t stop, so neither did I. Not until we were both standing in nothing but that white cotton.

We both stood there, looking at each other. I’d heard that the boys in middle school had to take showers, so I guess he wasn’t quite as shy as I was. Whatever the reason, he finally took a deep breath, slid his fingers into his briefs, then pushed them down his lean, still hairless legs, turning red as his jockeys slid down. I did the same thing and was stepping out of mine even as he was straightening up.

John was just as hard as I was. His dick looked long and thin, and seemed about the same as mine, though his looked a little darker than mine and his sac definitely hung lower than mine did. Still, it was beautiful, even though I didn’t like all the hair he had—a little thicker and curlier than what I had and spreading wider. After a few seconds, I jerked nervously, embarrassed to have been staring, until I noticed he was staring at me just as much.

I looked up at John, and he was licking his lips but then looked up and smiled at me. Then he reached for the ruler. Both of us were rock hard, so it was easy enough for him to hold the ruler up to me, glance at it, and smile up at me. "Four inches—not as big as me, but pretty good for a twelve-year old."

I smiled at his praise, but smiled even bigger when he stood up and handed the ruler to me. As I laid the ruler into place, I couldn’t believe how hot he felt, velvety soft, even while he was hard. Even hard and not knowing how to jerk off, I’d felt myself daily, but he felt so much different. I loved it, even while holding the ruler up to him.

John was as long as he’d said, which was only a quarter-inch longer than I was. Then I got my real surprise when he wanted us to compare to each other. He stepped up to me and laid his on top of mine. I’d only thought I loved the way he felt in my hand, but it was nothing compared to this. Then he wrapped his hand around both of us and started to move it.

He kept going until I thought I was going to explode, then he stopped. I guess he’d been as close as I’d been. He talked to me for a while, explaining what he’d been doing (though I had to correct him that it was not jacking off—we agreed on jerking, instead). After a few minutes, when we both felt a little recovered but hadn’t started to go soft, we lay on his bed, side by side. John reached over and started to stroke me again, but this time I had to reach over and do the same to him. I think he’d been practicing because he was able to hold out longer than I was. I was shocked and worried when all the white stuff exploded all over my chest and belly, but only after I’d recovered enough to think again. John paused for a minute to explain to me what that stuff was and assure me it was natural, then made it clear that he was still waiting. I was happy to give him my whole attention, and it wasn’t long until his belly was as messy as mine was.



That was the past, though. For now, I was only worried about the feel of his hand pressing against me, the feel of him against my hand, and the sound of his little brother howling as the strap snapped against his butt again and again. I’m sure David wouldn’t have agreed, but I was in heaven.

There was plenty of delay between each swat, maybe as much as thirty seconds. Five swats, then ten, and they just kept coming. I’d not been sure at first, but after the fourth swat, even outside the shed, we could clearly hear David crying. As the swats continued, he shrieked after we heard each crack of the strap, and his crying became continuous, growing louder and louder, until he was coughing and hacking as much as he was bawling. Even with John just kneading and pushing, I felt like I was going to cream in my pants. Then, just as I thought I couldn’t hold it anymore, the next stroke didn’t fall. Thirty seconds went by, then a minute, and John and I were suddenly holding still, not even our hands moving. I think it had been fifteen swats, but John and I were both waiting for another to fall.

Finally we heard a man’s voice. "If I ever hear about you doing something like this again, this won’t even be half of what you get. Understand me?"

If David answered, I couldn’t understand it, but he must have made some affirmative, because Uncle Bob went on.

"When you’re through crying, oil the strap and put it up, then you can come back in. Don’t forget to turn off the light," the man added in a tone that was surprisingly calm, considering the condition in which he'd left David.

David was still crying hard and loud in-between coughing fits. After another moment’s silence, we heard what might have been the shed door opening. John held a finger up over his mouth, then peeked around the edge of the shed. After a moment, he looked back and nodded, then leaned over and whispered to me, "Uncle Bob went inside. Want to take a look?"

He didn’t need to ask twice. He hadn’t really needed to ask the first time. We were both careful to be quiet, but we climbed onto the fence, where we could look into the shed again.

David still lay across the wide crossbeam of the sawhorse, the packing quilt beneath him. He was still crying hard and loud. His butt was crimson in the light, and his upper legs nearly as dark. I couldn’t see them, but, from my own experience with belts, I knew he had to be crisscrossed with welts and wished I could run my hand across his butt, feeling the heat and the rippling welts. What I could see was that those spots right between his butt and legs were even darker and were probably going to be bruised.

John was staring just as hard as I’d been, but I think he was interested because it was his brother, not in the spanking in general, like I was. Either way, we both stood quietly on the fence, watching for I-don’t-know-how-long, until David’s crying finally slowed and he began trying to stand. Definitely not wanting to be seen, John waved me back into the trees and I followed him.

Our bikes were parked in a small clearing, out of sight of all the houses, but there was no question about us climbing on them right then. As soon as we reached the clear spot, John started to unfasten his jeans and bundled them and his briefs past his knees as quickly as I did. Both of us were still straining upwards. He waddled towards me a couple of steps, then reached out and wrapped my boner in his hand. I did the same for him, and we began to slowly stroke each other.

"That was so awesome," he whispered. "Did you like it?"

"I loved it. Have you ever seen him get it before?"

"No, me and Ricky got it together once, and me and him watched Randy a couple of times like this, but this is the first time I knew David was gonna get it since I knew about this place."

I wanted him to talk more. I wanted to know all about him and Ricky getting it together. But right then, I was too lost in sensation to really think of anything else but the sound of the whipping we’d just witnessed, the look of ecstasy on John’s face, and the feel of his hand around me.

Both of us were way past primed, and it wasn’t long before I was ready to explode. John must have been in the same shape because he didn’t stop me when I turned away from him. Both of us shot off at almost the same time, and it was quite a shot. I think my first squirt went over a yard.

After we were finished shooting and finished panting, John, whose face was as blushed as mine felt, bent down, dug in his pants pocket, and came up with some toilet paper. He tore part of the wad off and handed it to me before he began wiping dampness from his head. Smiling and thanking him, I did the same.

Finally we were dressed and walking our bikes out of The Trails, both of us too tired and sated to ride just yet. We’d walked in silence for a bit before I thought of something appropriate to say.

"You think David’ll let you look at his butt?"

"No way. He got caught smoking, but we both stole some of Mom’s cigarettes. He’s gonna be way mad at me."

At the street, we said good-bye, and each turned his own direction, climbing slowly onto our bikes. Not wanting to go straight home, I peddled around the block, then suddenly, impulsively turned down our street but away from my house. Not far from the other Ward residence, I came across David. He was walking down the street, very stiff and obviously unhappy. I rode up beside him.

"Hey, Dave."

This time, at least, he heard me and looked up, though not like he was happy to see me.

"Hey."

"You okay? You look like you fell and hit your tailbone or something."

He grimaced, but only said, "Or something."

I tried—I really did try to get him to admit he’d just been spanked. As much as David usually liked it when I paid attention to him instead of his brother, he just wasn’t very interested in my finding out that he really was spanked after all, much less that he’d just had one.

I sure would have liked to have rubbed his bottom for him a bit and maybe teach him some of what his brother had taught me. "Oh well," I thought prophetically, "maybe later."





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