Me, Mom's Boyfriend, and His Son

Mom divorced David, whom I’d always believed to be my ‘real’ father, right about the time of my seventh birthday. The divorce was a big upheaval for me, since we not only had to move but also had to give away our pets, because the first apartment we leased didn‘t allow them. At least the apartment complex to which we moved had both a swimming pool and several kids. Because it was late in the school year, I did get to finish first grade at the same school.

That would have been spring of 1972 (neither my mom nor I can remember the exact date). She married Ralph in February of 1974. During the time in between, she dated a lot. I only remember about five guys she dated in that time, so maybe she was dating the same guy over and again, or maybe she dated a bunch of different guys. The main thing I remember was that my younger half sister and I stayed with my grandparents every Saturday night.

Most of the guys I only remember vaguely. I remember she dated one Iranian guy because she let him name my dog (it was a pretty cool name and definitely unusual though). There was another guy with whom she went out a few times, whom I remember more because he lived in the same apartment complex and had two sons who were older than me, and about as close as I ever came to having big brothers. But the guy I remember best was James.

Just as a reminder, my mom was only sixteen when I was born. By the summer of ‘72, she would have been twenty-four. James was probably about her age, but he seemed old and huge from my knee-high perspective. After all, even though I was tall for my age, I was only seven, and if I beat four feet, it was probably only by two or three inches.

James was a really nice guy, and I remembered liking him from the moment I met him; but he had something in his favor that none of Mom’s boyfriends ever had: a son. Even better than that, he liked comic books.

Jamie wasn’t quite a year younger than me, but enough younger to be in first grade. I was slightly taller than average and he wasn’t, so I probably had him by about three inches, but not enough to be a huge deal. I don’t remember much about James, except that he and his son resembled each other. On the other hand, my grandma somehow ended up with a picture of me and Jamie together, so I know that he had light brown hair and blue eyes, with full cheeks and lips that seemed to be slightly curled at the edges, making him look like he always had a grin. His nose was straight and a bit wide, but had a cute little button on the end. He wore his hair just a bit longer than I did, so it draped over the top of his ears, and he wore bangs rather than a part.

I really don’t even remember how long Mom and James dated. I know they went out several times, and I saw Jamie more than once. I’m not even sure if he lived with his dad, or if James just had visitation, so I don’t know if our visits together were every week or what. I did spend the night with them once. Wherever he lived, Jamie had his own bedroom at his dad’s place.

Whatever else may be unclear, I remember that night vividly. Where Mom and Danielle were, I don’t really remember (and probably didn’t care). What was important was that we three guys had our own night together. We went to play miniature golf, then stopped and had dinner at McDonald’s (and I was still young enough for that to be haute cuisine), then we went to see Bedknobs and Broomsticks. Even after the movie, when we got home, James was still ready to indulge us, and the two of them taught me to play Uno.

We played one game that was basically for demonstration, then played another where we went all out. It was great fun (and I still enjoy playing it with my kids from time to time). After the second game, James scooped the cards up and looked at the two of us.

"That’s enough for now. Bath time, you guys."

"Ah, Dad. Just one more game?"

"We can play again after, but I don’t want to have to deal with you smelly little critters if you fall asleep on the floor. Now come on."

James stood and helped us to our feet, then led us into the bathroom, where he started filling the tub. Even at this age, I was pretty shy. On the other hand, I really liked Jamie and felt a great deal of warmth and affection for his dad. I paused a minute when Jamie began to undress, but when James turned and glanced at me, I forced my hands to begin removing my own clothes.

James watched us until we were both naked and in the tub, then he handed us a small bucket filled with boats and water toys, which made my modesty quickly depart. Then he left us.

As soon as James was gone, we began a navel battle that ended with our two fleets combining to fight off Duckzilla. Every once in a while, Jamie would reach up and turn the tap on for a moment to keep the water warm. Finally, about ten minutes after he’d left us, James returned.

James had obviously spent the time in his own bathroom since his hair was damp. What really struck me, though, was that he was wearing only briefs—Fruit of the Loom, just like his son had been wearing.

I’d seen older boys and men in swim trunks, of course, and had even seen twelve and fourteen-year-old boys naked; but I had no real understanding of the difference between adolescents and men. I didn’t even know the words adolescence or puberty at that point. What I did know was that James’ peter was obviously much larger than mine or Jamie’s, which was fascinating to me, though, from his reaction, I’d guess Jamie was used to seeing his dad like this. I do remember that James had hair on his legs and under his arms, and just a bit climbing up from the waistband of his briefs towards his belly button, but I also remember his upper body was mostly smooth and he still had a lean build.

He watched us play for a minute, asking us questions about Duckzilla, then he gently separated us from the toys. He had Jamie wash his own front side while he washed my back and around the neck and ears, before trading us off. Once we were both clean enough for him, he went and got clean undies for us while we dried ourselves. As soon as he was satisfied that we were ready for bed, we went back to Uno.

I have no idea how long we played, but I do know we were yawning wide and hard when he told us it was time for bed. Being boys, especially boys who were having a good time, I’m sure we would have protested bed if he’d awoken us by moving us to the bed.

"Nope, even if you guys aren’t ready for bed, I am, so let’s get moving."

"Ah, Dad…."

And Jamie didn’t get any more protest out before James bent down and scooped the two of us up, then carried us to Jamie’s bedroom. I didn’t realize it at first since I was gazing at the ground where James had just walked (and was getting slightly dizzy as I bounced around, hanging backwards and upside down in his arm), but he’d already turned the bed back at some point, obviously expecting to have to carry us to bed one way or another. I might have worried a bit, if it hadn’t been for Jamie giggling, and the fact that his dad didn’t sound upset at all.

Thump! I heard, as I felt his weight shift, followed by another as he tossed me onto the bed. I started to stretch out, but James stopped me.

"Nope, on your belly," he instructed.

I glanced over at Jamie, who was already flopping onto his front and grinning like a fool. Not knowing what was coming, I didn’t grin, but did mind.

The bed shifted as James leaned across me, and I looked back to see why Jamie was shifting around. What I saw wasn’t reassuring since his father had picked him up just enough to slide down the boy’s briefs. Before I could process that enough to start feeling panicky, he’d done the same to me. Now I was starting to feel panicky as my bare bottom was exposed for whatever James planned to do. I was getting ready to protest, not knowing why, but realizing what was about to happen. And why the heck was Jamie still grinning?

Then James’ large hand came to rest against my skin, but not in a spank. Instead, one hand rested just below my shoulder blades and began to rub.

"I told you boys to go to bed, didn’t I?"

"Uh huh," his son answered, as I replied, a bit more formally, "Yes, sir."

Suddenly his big hand landed on my bottom, and I jumped, but only from being startled. It hadn’t been a smack, but a pat, barely enough to tingle let alone sting. After the one light smack, James began to rub my rear for a minute.

"When I tell you to do something, you’re supposed to mind; aren’t you?"

"Uh huh," James and I both answered, me too caught up in the sensation to do more than grunt a bit.

James’ hand came off my rear, and this time I heard a slight smack, but didn’t feel anything, until a second later, when his hand came to rest on my back again and started rubbing. Turning my head back to Jamie, I lifted a bit and saw that James was now rubbing his son’s bottom, which must have been the smack I heard.

"Good boys mind their daddies… or whoever’s in charge; don’t they?"

"Mmmmm," we both replied.

As soon as we’d grunted, James shifted a bit, then a hand smacked down on my bottom again, just a bit harder than the first time, enough to tingle a fair amount, but still not stinging.

After the smack landed, I felt his hand come off my back and reach over to rub Jamie’s back again. The other hand stayed on my bottom, though, gently rubbing.

Jamie had his arms crossed so his head could rest in the crook, while mine were by my sides, so I shifted enough to lie like he was.

After another moment, James spoke again. "When little boys don’t mind, they’re acting naughty; aren’t they?"

We both gave a slight moan of agreement, and James’ hand lifted again.

This time I clearly heard the smack, thought it wasn’t loud at all. I was watching Jamie’s face, though, and saw him close his eyes right after the noise, though he didn’t look like it had hurt.

"And do you know what happens to naughty boys, Jack?" James asked me, without a pause this time.

James’ hand had barely come to rest on my back again, but I still replied, suddenly worried, "They get spanked?"

"That’s right," he said, as his hand came down on my bottom again. It still wasn’t hard, though it only rubbed my little rear for a second this time, before coming up again.

Back and forth, Jamie then me, James’ big hand smacked down again and again. The smacks never did get hard, though. The tingling slowly gained in heat and intensified, but it was so much different from how I’d always been smacked before. His hand would smack down in what was really just a firm pat, then rub across both cheeks for a second, then move back to his son. Again and again it happened until it started to really sting and get hot, but it wasn’t a bad sting; more like when you‘re trading punches with your best friend and neither of you is trying to hurt the other.

I realized that at some point, James’ hand had come away from my back, and he now had his arm on my back and his hand on his son’s. I was looking into Jamie’s face, and only when I saw that he was writhing and groaning did I realize that I was doing the same. As the smacks went on, it started to hurt, but not as bad as even the first smack when my Daddy David had spanked me. It was more like getting into a bathtub when the water was too hot, but only a little too hot, and it felt good, even though it was uncomfortable.

Tears were starting to stand out in Jamie’s eyes, and my own vision was getting a little watery. Jamie was breathing deeply, and it was only years later that I realized how much he sounded like someone about to climax. As for myself, I was too fascinated and confused to have any real idea of how I might have sounded. I do know that I was disappointed when the smacks suddenly stopped.

The disappointment only lasted a second before I felt James’ large hand spread across my tush and begin to gently rub again.

"Now there," James said, "are two red-bottomed little boys. Next time I tell you to do something, you’d better mind me, or we’ll have to try a hard spanking. Got me?"

I could barely force my mouth open, but managed to reply something that might have been taken as ‘Yes, sir.’ Jamie didn’t even manage that, but his dad took it as a given.

The only movement besides James’ hands was when Jamie scooted over a bit so that our bodies touched along the length. It was so warm, so soft and silky, I couldn’t believe it, and prayed my mom and his dad would get married so we could sleep like that every night.

After a few minutes, James’ hand shifted from our bottoms to our backs. After that, there was just black. I didn’t even realize he’d covered us until I awoke the next morning.



Jamie woke me the next morning, and the two of us pushed out of bed so we could watch cartoons. I was suddenly shy and wanted to dress, but Jamie convinced me not to. Instead, we padded, naked as jaybirds, into the living room, where we turned on the TV, turned down the volume, and waited through the last few minutes of the farm report for Bugs Bunny to start.

After a few minutes, Jamie looked over at me.

"I had fun last night."

"I did, too. You’re lucky. Your dad’s great."

"Yeah," he smiled in contentment.

"I’ve never been spanked like that before," I ventured after a moment. "My spankings always hurt real bad and make me cry."

"Daddy spanks me like that sometimes, but only if I’m really acting up. He spanks me like that when he wants to… make a point?" he said, not sure he was saying it right.

I nodded, seeing how that would work.

"I liked it," I answered after a minute.

"It feels good when he rubs your bottom. Sometimes he’ll rub my back just to help me go to sleep. You wanna spank me?"

He must have seen how shocked I was because he quickly added, "Like Dad did last night. Not hard. Then I’ll do you."

I glanced at the clock, and we still had a few minutes before cartoons started, so I nodded my head. We’d been leaning back against the couch, so Jamie just got up and laid himself across my lap.

It wasn’t much of a spanking. I don’t think his bottom got more than pink. He certainly did enjoy the rubbing though, and I enjoyed it just as much when it was my turn. Soon enough, cartoons started, and he and I both sat up to watch those and would take turns spanking each other during the commercials. I’d never thought anything about why my peter sometimes got hard, but it certainly did as Jamie and I took turns across each other’s lap, and I wasn’t the only one.

It was about halfway through a Road Runner cartoon when James came into the living room. He was still in his Fruit of the Looms, and his hair was definitely sleep tousled. He took a look at us and shook his head.

"You animals go get your underwear on, anyway," he instructed us.

"Ah, Dad," Jamie replied, "It’s the Road Runner."

"Okay," James said, "but as soon as that’s over."

He waited for us to both nod, then asked if I wanted bacon or sausage with my scrambled eggs.



I don’t know how long James and Mom dated. Jamie and I never had a chance to play spanking games again, but that wasn‘t the last time he and I got together.

James had invited us over to his parents’ house for a barbecue. All I can really remember about it was they had a decent sized house and a huge yard. Jamie and I would run around, chasing each other, swinging, and when we’d temporarily drained our batteries, we’d walk and talk about comics until we were ready to play a new game, where we pretended to be Flash or Green Lantern.

The property had a wire fence around it, and we’d been told we could go anyplace inside the wire. The one exception was the old tank. I think Jamie’s grandfather even explained to us that there’d been a flood a few weeks before, and he’d found a couple of cottonmouths hanging around the tank since then, so he wanted us to stay clear of it. Of course, that’s really not the right thing to tell a couple of adventurous boys.

The first time, we were caught before we got too close to it.

"You boys were told to stay away from there. Get back over on that side."

You’d think that’d be enough for any halfway smart kid, but it was just too tempting. The next time, we were told to stay on the other side of the driveway. That was still plenty of room to play, but it was aggravating for some reason; especially to Jamie, who was used to being able to go all over the property. Even then, I think we would have been okay if we hadn’t decided to play army. Our mission was to sneak past the enemy patrols so we could meet the boat coming into shore.

We didn’t make it.

Five minutes later, I was standing nervously, waiting to find out what would happen to me. From the discussion Jamie’s grandpa had with his father, Jamie didn’t have much doubt as to what was going to happen to him. Any hopes I might have had were destroyed when I heard Mom say, almost casually, "Go ahead—if he can’t mind, he deserves it."

Jamie’s eyes were already watery, and he was sniffing a bit, and suddenly I was sure I was doing the exact same thing.

James took the two of us by the shoulders, though gently, and led us back to the room in which he’d grown up. Despite the fact that James was in his mid-twenties, it was still a very boyish room. I didn’t notice much at the time, but there were comics stacked on a bookshelf, baseball and football posters on the wall, and even the furniture seemed more boy sized than man. There were even two twin beds, so James and Jamie could have their own place when they stayed with the grandparents. The room would have been very comforting if James hadn’t guided me and his son over to the desk. James turned the chair to face into the room, then took a seat that left us standing in front of him.

I don’t remember the whole lecture. I know he was telling us that he was very disappointed. The thing I remember most was him telling us how much he cared for us both; that he wanted us to have a good time, and that he didn’t want to hurt us or make us cry but that we had to learn to behave and mind, especially when we were told not to do something dangerous.

No, that’s wrong. The thing I remember most is how scared and helpless I felt as his hands moved back and forth, stripping us both. I have no doubt that I could have come to love James, and I might have done so even then. Remembering that slow, gentle spanking he’d given us, there was no question that I trusted him. The trouble was, Jamie had admitted that his daddy sometimes gave spankings that really hurt and made him cry. Looking into James’ face, so sad and serious, so intense, I was pretty sure this was going to be one of those.

I wanted to protest. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to beg. Nothing would come out. Jamie was softly whining, but neither of us said anything as his father assured us that he knew we were really good boys, but that even good boys messed up sometimes and had to be punished. I hated that word, but he kept telling us we were good boys, and he was proud of us and knew we were going to try to take our spankings well, and I just couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t disappoint him. Even as he slid my briefs off and I just wanted to shriek, or run, or fall to the floor, I just couldn’t.

With both of us naked, James lifted his son over his lap. I whimpered a bit. I’d had to watch boys getting spanked before. Even though I knew I loved seeing it, I also knew that waiting for your own turn was horrible. Then James reached out for me.

I had to take one step towards him. I wanted to do it. I wanted him to still be proud of me, but I just couldn’t make my traitorous legs move. I thought he was going to get mad at me, but I still couldn’t do it. He didn’t, though; just smiled and leaned forward a bit to pull me towards him.

His hands were so strong and gentle as he picked me up and laid me across his lap. Suddenly I felt Jamie’s skin again, soft and warm against the length of my body. It still felt good but wasn’t comforting this time.

James said something else—asked something, I guess—but my ears were filled with a roar and I couldn’t make out what he said. I managed to choke out a whiny, watery ‘yes‘, and I guess that was the proper answer.

James’ big hand, which had been so gentle before, rested on my bottom for one second, then came up and smacked down. It still wasn’t hard, not compared to Papa’s hand or David’s paddle, but it was a lot warmer than the first time he’d spanked me, and it did more than tingle, even if it was just a mild sting.

That didn’t matter much, though, and that was the day I decided a long spanking that built up slowly was much worse than a short, hard one. His hand came down again and again, and it seemed almost constant to me, even though I could hear that he was smacking Jamie as well, and could hear Jamie’s sobs and yelps, feel his wiggles and squirms.

I don’t know how long it went on. I just know that my entire world narrowed to my burning backside. The agony was so intense, it seemed to be bursting up my body to shot out from my eyes and throat, leaving traces of ache there. I was barely even aware of the bawling, thrashing boy next to me.

After an endless time, the red started to recede from my eyes, and I was able to start focusing again. I was still crying a bit, but the room seemed quiet besides that, and I realized that the hand still on my bottom was rubbing now, comforting and supporting, no longer punishing.

James must have been waiting for me and somehow realized I’d come back to myself because his hand lifted and he helped me to stand. My legs were shaky, probably as much from kicking as from the occasional smacks to the back of my legs, but I managed to hold myself up as James helped his son up to stand my me.

"Are you okay, Jackie?"

"It hurts!" I explained.

The man nodded. "It’s supposed to hurt, but Jamie’s already stopped crying. I thought your mom said you were used to spankings."

I glanced over at Jamie. He might have stopped crying aloud before I did, but he was still sniveling and sniffing, and tears still seeped from his eyes. I was a little embarrassed, and it was only years later that I realized how much worse a spanking can seem if you’re not used to getting it that way. It didn’t matter, though. James hadn’t been asking to make fun of me, but because he was genuinely worried. As soon as I managed to nod, he pulled both of us to him.

His hand that had been so hot and hard a few minutes ago was soft and gentle now as we stood between his legs. He was hugging us to him, but his hands were lower, and I felt it as he gently rubbed some of the sting out of my bottom. I could have stayed there forever. Unfortunately, that’s not what he had in mind.

"Dinner’s going to be in about an hour. Why don’t you two lay down for a while and rest. I’ll come get you."

He had to assure us that he wouldn’t let anyone else in the room, then he helped us up so we could lie next to each other on the bed.

James laid us on our stomachs, but as soon as he was gone, we rolled over to face each other. Both of us wanted more bottom rubbing and didn’t want to take turns doing it. We finally ended up scooting right up to each other so our fronts were touching. That was only a side effect, but as we reached around and began to rub each other’s sore backsides, I realized both of us were getting little stiffies.

Jamie and I fell asleep that way, and it was a good thing James kept his promise, because I think anyone else would have given us a hard time about the position in which Jamie and I had fallen asleep. James thought it was cute and suggested we stay there while he went for a camera. It’s very possible we teleported to our feet.



Mom and James didn’t date a long time. She said it was no wonder I liked him since he wasn’t much more mature than I’d been while she was dating him. In a way, it’s a real shame. I don’t think that the playful, loving, and sensual spankings that James gave us would be enough to turn a ‘normal’ person into a spanko; but I can’t help wondering whether, if Mom had married James instead of Ralph, would that have made the difference between me being a strict top and a switch?





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