Ryan Hunter 1

As best I can remember, I first met Ryan Hunter at an overnight New Year’s Eve Magic Tournament I hosted on 31 December 1994. I’m pretty sure I’d fallen in love with him by 1 January 1995.

Ryan was a great kid and I almost always enjoyed my time with him. He was nice looking in an average sort of way. We shared the same basic hair coloring, eye coloring, and skin tone, along with a similar build; (Ryan ended up being a little taller than I am and a bit narrower through the shoulders and hips) and when people saw us together, especially when he was out with Steve and me, and saw how affectionate we were together, they just assumed he was my son— often to the point of thinking Steve, who looks nothing like me at all, was his friend. Ryan liked it, and Steve thought it was hilarious.

I spanked Ryan several times after coming to know him (Ryan and Derek Hunter), but he wasn’t a bad kid. It was only that he’d just turned twelve and usually had tons of energy to deal with (not to mention a little brother who could be a real pest at times, though I did like Derek as well).

The problem with Magic is that it can be a very complex game. They release hundreds of new cards every year, and each card has to interact with all the ones that have come before it. Some of the cards affect the very way you play the game. While I can teach a group of ten-year-olds to play the game and they’ll have a great time with each other, it’s because they’ll avoid bringing the complexities into it. With tournament players, on the other hand, some of them live for those complexities. While Ryan, who is an extremely intelligent fellow, loved it and found it a challenge, Derek burned out on it and had quit playing by the end of that summer.

Ryan never did and kept playing as long as he lived in Bransom. He also became a regular member of our household, sleeping over with Steve at least once every couple of months — visits which Steve would reciprocate not quite as often. Since Steve was an only child at that time, my home was a bit more attractive for them. While Ryan never did adjust to the idea of casual nudity, the sight of him running around my house in his briefs (and later his boxers, much to my disgust) became a fairly common, but always enjoyable, one.

The only difference between Ryan and a number of boys whom I’ve raised over the years was that Ryan had a good family. He may have stood out among his brothers as the white sheep, and his mom might have been a bit over-protective at times, but there was never any question that he had a lot of love and support. His father, who always struck me as a bit redneck, not only obviously loved the boys, but was smart enough to teach them what he could, but to also let them develop their own interests. His mom, on the other hand, kept a firm rein on her boys, letting them enjoy themselves, but also keeping them from going too crazy on anything (I adopted my policies on TV and video games almost directly from her) and making sure they kept their eyes on what was really important (their education, in this case). If Ryan hadn’t had those things, he might well have been counted as one of my sons. As it was, he and I were able to develop a close friendship that still carries on today, and I think he did, and still does, see me as a loving older brother or close uncle.

Which isn’t to say that there weren’t some stumbles and trials along the way.



Steve is about fourteen months older than Ryan, but Ryan has always been fairly mature (well, almost always), and the two of them share a lot of interests, so they’ve always gotten along marvelously. When talking about twelve and thirteen-year-old boys, however, it might have been nice if they’d not always gotten along quite so well, or at least if one of them hadn’t always gone along.

It was late summer of ‘95, only a couple of weeks before school started. Mrs. Hunter had gone out of town for some family reason and taken Derek with her, but Ryan had begged not to go. The trouble was, his father is in construction, so summer is his busiest time, and Ryan and his older brother Tim couldn’t be depended on not to kill each other if left alone and unsupervised for too long. Thus, Ryan was staying with us for a few days.

One of the rules I’ve always had with my boys is, you get used to waking up for school before school starts. I believe it’s best to acclimatize yourself whenever possible, and adjusting your sleep schedule is best done slowly. Ryan understood and accepted that before he came to stay with us (Steve accepted it because his only choice was whether or not his bottom was sore when he went to bed).

As I recall, Ryan’s mom dropped him off at the store on Tuesday afternoon on her way out of town. It was a visitation weekend for Steve, so they’d have three days and evenings together, and Ryan and I would have one night to ourselves. Since it was a special occasion, after he’d helped me close the store, Ryan and I stopped and rented a movie and then picked up a pizza. We had a great evening, played some Magic, and the boys toddled off to bed right on time. There might have been a little too much talking and playing coming from the bedroom, but not enough to be a big deal.

The store didn’t open until 10:00am, so I had plenty of time to wake the boys, fix breakfast, and get them started before I had to leave. They stayed home Wednesday, and it seemed like that not only had a great time, but managed to avoid doing any major damage that I could find.

Thursdays were our big comic book days back then, and Steve went in every Thursday morning to help out and earn a little extra pocket money. Ryan was more than willing to join him, so I made sure they were in bed on time and reminded them that they we had to be at the store by 8:00am, so they’d have to get up a little early. About twenty minutes later, I quietly reminded them of the same thing again. About eleven o’clock, I reminded them of the same thing a third time, but also reminded them that they were breaking a rule, and were only about a half-inch from getting to watch each other getting spanked.

Like most boys, Steve never complained much about watching someone else get a spanking, but he’d never seemed very interested in being on the flip side of the equation. It seemed like Ryan remembered putting on a display for his little brother and didn’t seem too interested in repeating the experience for his friend. The two of them rolled onto their sides away from each other and made a concerted effort to nod off. I didn’t stay to see if they succeeded or not, but they were at least quiet after that.

They were both a little grumpy the next morning, but didn’t complain too much when I woke them and both seemed fine after breakfast. Everything went fine at the store, and Ryan, who wasn’t into comics, seemed to enjoy learning a new set of skills (and the twenty bucks probably didn’t hurt either). About noon, when everything had been processed and put away and the initial rush was over, I took the boys home, stopping to buy them burgers on the way, then stopping at the same place on the way back to work to get lunch for myself and my part-timer.

When I got home that evening, I found that the boys were making dinner (I’d started teaching Steve simple, ‘bachelor’ cooking when he’d moved in with me a couple of years before). I walked around the house to see that everything was still intact. Wet bathing suits on the side of Steve’s tub showed they’d gone down the block to a friend of ours who had an above ground pool. The fact that my bedspread was wrinkled suggested that they’d been playing in other ways, but nothing I was going to complain about with two healthy boys. It looked like they’d even gotten Steve’s regular chores done, so I was more than happy with the two of them.

That evening after dinner, Steve and I had a ritual of reading the new comics. While Ryan wasn’t a comics fan, he was a reader, and was happy to join us and we sprawled out, jamming to some oldies, and enjoying our books and each others company until bedtime.

This time, when 10pm rolled around, the boys protested a bit as I herded them, first to the shower, then to bed. Neither of them was sleepy, they assured me, and I began to wonder if my bed had been rumpled from a more innocent activity than I’d expected. I don’t normally complain when kids want to take a nap, but it’s not a good thing when I’m trying to adjust their schedule.

Still, a reminder of my earlier threat of a spanking for the two of them got them moving, and it wasn’t too much later when I sat on the side of Ryan’s bed, talking to them, and rubbing his shoulders. Not wanting a repeat of Tuesday night’s problems, I sat with them for a bit, moving back and forth, and helping both of them relax, until they nodded off.

Happy with myself, I went to get ready for bed. Thursday’s were always long, if not especially hard, and I was looking to hop into my own bed as quickly as I could. Yvonne would be picking Steve up between 5:30 and 6:00 the next night, so I made a note to myself to remind Ryan he’d be alone for a little over an hour and to find out what he wanted to do that night. I drifted off wondering if we should go out and do something, or if he’d enjoy a quiet night alone, just me and him.

After a long, hot bath to soak out the tension of the day (and to read one final comic), I climbed into my bed and was quickly lost to the world. I awoke a while later from a dream of a burglar in the house. I heard a noise, so I got up, reached for my glasses, pulled them, then a baggy t-shirt on, got my handgun, and went out of my room.

The living room was still and dark, but I saw a light coming from my office. I crossed the living room and pushed through the office door, ready for the worst. What I found was not what I expected, though maybe I should have.

Ryan and Steve had jumped when I opened the door. The two of them were lying on the floor in their briefs, facing each other, but both turned to look towards me. They had Magic cards spread all over the floor and had a game spread out between them.

I moved the gun behind me as soon as I realized who it was, but it wasn’t quite fast enough to keep them from seeing it. Both their eyes went wide, even though Steve knew I had the gun.

"Dad! We were just…."

"I don’t need to hear it, Steve. I can see what you’re ‘just’. Stay right there," I warned them, then let the room just long enough to put the gun away.

When I came back, I’m pretty sure neither of them had moved an inch. "Do you want to explain to me what you’re doing up?"

"We couldn’t sleep."

"Yeah, Jack," Ryan added, "I woke up and Steve wasn’t really sleeping and we started talking a little and then Steve had this idea how to fix up my deck and so we…."

"Okay, that’s good. That’s still what you did, not why you were doing it. What made you think you could disobey me?"

"Dad…."

"Jack, we didn’t mean to…."

"You didn’t mean to what, Ryan? You didn’t mean to deliberately disobey me? You just sleep walked in here and started playing? Or did you accidentally fall out of bed and …?"

Both boys were squirming. Ryan’s chin was quivering and Steve’s eyes were damp. I stopped myself and put a chain on my temper. I took a deep breath and willed myself calm. Even if they shouldn’t have been up, it wasn’t their fault I’d thought we were being robbed.

"I’m sorry, boys. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. C’mere."

Knowing me, Steve climbed to his feet and walked over to my embrace. I held him for a minute, then pushed him slightly away and stepped forward. I held out my hand and Ryan took it. I pulled him to his feet, then to me, wrapping one arm around him and opening the other for Steve to step back in. I held both of them for a minute, and they held each other and me.

"Ryan, it was wrong of me to be sarcastic like that, but I think we know that you ‘did mean it’, didn’t you?"

"Yes, sir," Steve admitted.

Ryan was quiet for a moment, then I felt him nod against my chest, and finally admit, "Yes, sir."

"Ryan, I don’t have to ask Steve this; but I want to make sure with you. Can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me that you thought it was okay, after I told you to go to bed at 10pm, to get up in the middle of the night and play cards?"

Ryan was quiet for a minute, then I felt him shake his head.

"Look at me, Ryan."

After a moment’s hesitation, he pulled back and looked up at me. "Did you think it was okay?"

"No, sir."

"You knew you were disobeying?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what happens to boys that disobey?"

A small whimper escaped him before he could answer, "They get spanked."

"Steve, you know what you did was wrong, but I’m listening."

I guess that sounds confusing, but Steve had known me as long as he could remember and lived with me more than two years. He knew what I meant. "Nothing, Dad," he replied.

I’d known him just as long. We both understood that I was giving him a chance for an explanation, and that he was admitting to not having one.

I dropped my arms and the two of them stepped away from me. I gave studied them intently enough that they started to squirm, while I was making up my mind as to exactly what they deserved in this case.

"You two’ve talked about spanking before, haven’t you?"

The both admitted it.

"Steve, how does Ryan’s dad spank him?"

Steve thought about it for a second, maybe trying to intuit exactly what information I was seeking. "On his bare bottom, with his hand," he finally supplied.

"And how do I spank you?"

"On my bare bottom, with the paddle or brush."

"And what do I do when you get in trouble with friends over?"

He looked confused for a second, and Ryan, who was carefully watching the conversation as though it were a tennis match, did as well. "You mean when you spank us in front of each other?"

"Yes, that’s what I mean. I don’t always spank you the same way though, do I?"

"You mean like, ‘cause Nolan don’t get spanked much, or ‘cause Ronnie’s smaller than I am?"

"That’s what I mean. Now, while you and Ryan are about the same size, and he’s used to getting spanked, I think I should still do you differently, since he’s only used to hand spankings. Does that seem unfair to you?"

Steve stood there a moment, absently rubbing the seat of his briefs, his face screwed in thought.

"No, I guess it’s fair."

I’d not been paying attention to Ryan while I awaited Steve’s answer, but now the other boy spoke up. "It’s not fair, Jack. We both did the same thing, so we should both get spanked the same."

Steven and I both turned to look at him. "Ryan," I warned him, "I’m not letting Steve off with a hand spanking, so you’re letting yourself in for a world of trouble. Do you have any idea what you’re asking?"

He looked very nervous as he shrugged, then finally shook his head. I was sure Steve would be okay with it, but I didn’t want Ryan to be left feeling guilty; I didn’t want to push him far past his limits, either.

I was still trying to decide how to handle the situation when, after a long moment’s silence, Steve spoke up.

"Ryan, I never thought Dad was being unfair when he spanked me with Nolan or Ronnie. Dad, couldn’t you paddle us both, but do Ryan like you did them?"

I turned back to him, a small smile sneaking to my face. "Are you trying to make Ryan feel better, or are you trying to talk me out of using the hairbrush on you?"

Steve winced at the suggestion of the hairbrush, but he’s always been a fair and honest boy; he smiled back at me, though it looked a little weak and sickly. "Both?"

I nodded, then turned back to Ryan, trying to look serious for him. "Well, Ryan; if Steve thinks it’s fair, is that good enough for you?"

He obviously wanted to ask exactly what he was letting himself in for, but also, almost as obviously, wanted to spare himself the details as long as possible. He finally shrugged, then nodded.

"All right. Steve, go show Ryan where the paddle is. Since this is his first time, let him bring it back."

Steve nodded and turned to go, Ryan moving to follow him, when my voice pulled them to a quick halt.

"Oh, one more thing." I waited until they’d turned back to me. "You’re not going to need your undies for a while, so why don’t you hand them here."

I’d taught Steve to conform to the most modest person around in most situations, which meant he usually slept in briefs when he had friends sleeping over. He was more used to being naked than he was wearing only undies, so he skinned them down and handed them to me with no hesitation.

Ryan, on the other hand, was a bit more modest. I was sure he and Steve had seen each other naked before, and I’d seen him that way a couple of times (in very similar situations), but I guess it was still unusual for him. Still, before the wait dragged on long enough for me to say anything, he placed his hands on his hips, slid them under the waistband of his Fruit of the Looms, then blushed and bent over to shove them down.

He stood and handed them to me, which delayed him from covering himself. Seeing how comfortable Steve was with his own nudity, I think Ryan was embarrassed to cover himself (embarrassed by his embarrassment?) and began to fidget a bit. I knew I’d have time to study him and compare the two of them, so I scooted them out the door to fetch the paddle.

While the two of them were gone, I compared the undies. Though Steve was more than a year older, he was only about average size, while Ryan was a little tall for his age, so they were close to the same size; but Ryan was wearing size twelve while Steve was wearing the next size up. Ryan’s were a little snug on him, while Steve’s were a little baggy. I folded them into quarters and put them on the corner of my desk, smiling, and thinking about switching undies on them, even though Steve had been wearing a pair of Jockeys. I wondered if they’d even notice, then decided that it wasn’t going to matter anyway.

It only took the boys a minute or so to walk down the hall, claim the paddle from Steve’s underwear drawer, then come back to me. By the time they had, I’d turned my desk chair to face into the room and was sitting, awaiting them.

The two of them crossed over to stand in front of me. Steve looked at Ryan, then leaned over and whispered something to the other boy. Ryan flushed, then moved his hands to hold the paddle in both hands, behind him. Even without the paddle, Steve had taken the same stance.

"I don’t think you boys need much of a lecture. I’ve explained to both of you, more than once, why we have a bedtime, even though it’s still summer. You chose to disobey me, now you’re going to pay for it. Do you both understand that?"

Even while I gave them the brief lecture, while they both nodded, solemn and sad, I was studying them. Ryan still looked much the same as when I’d first met him, most of a year before, but he had grown some. I knew Steve was about 5’4" and maybe 105 pounds, but Ryan was really only an inch or so shorter. He’d filled out elsewhere as well.

I’d seen Steve running around almost on a nightly basis for over two years by then, and seen him wrestling around with Ronnie (who was the least shy of all his friends) that way. The predictable results of nude wrestling left no doubt that Steve hung close to four inches and was reasonably thick. Though both of them were flaccid, Ryan was quite a bit thicker than he’d been when I’d spanked him a few months before, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if he had been as thick and nearly as long as Steve. Ryan actually looked hairier. I knew that Steve had hair on his legs, but it was blond and hard to see, unless there was light in just the right place. While Ryan’s legs were still smooth, his small band of dark hair above his penis had been slowly spreading, and it looked like he had almost as much as Steve. Steve did have more, but that blond hair had to get fairly thick before it was really obvious.

When they’d both accepted responsibility for their actions, I spoke again, while continuing my observation, and while they continued to squirm. "Ryan, when I had to punish the two boys Steve and I were talking about, who weren’t used to being spanked like he is, I’d give them both a hand spanking, then finish it with the paddle. That’s what you’re going to get. I’m sure you remember what my hand spankings are like"—he nodded energetically, but somehow not enthusiastically—"and afterwards, you’ll get thirteen swats with the paddle." He may have blanched a bit as I pronounced sentence, but he took it fairly stoically.

"When I spanked you and Derek, I let Derek go first, because he was younger. You’re not only younger than Steve, but you’re also a guest. However, I punished you and Derek the same way, while Steve’s going to get his entire spanking with the paddle, so I’ll leave it to you as to who goes first."

Ryan looked at me for a minute, then looked at Steve. Steve made a small motion with his head for the other boy to go ahead, but Ryan shook his head. Steve motioned again, more emphatically, moving his whole upper body, but Ryan ignored him. "Steve can go first."

Steve knew better than to argue once the decision had been made, so moved reluctantly to my side. I punished Steve in a lot of different positions over the years, but over the knee was my favorite, and he dropped himself into position nearly perfectly. After a second’s pause, I felt him lift himself and push himself just a bit further on my lap, then he spread his legs a bit, bent his knees, and sighed as he tried to make himself relax.

"Ryan?" He jumped and lifted his eyes from where he’d been watching his friend offer himself for sacrifice. "The paddle?" I prompted when he just stared at me, like a deer in headlights.

I took the paddle from him and went to work on my son. By this time, Steve had been past simple hand spankings, or even hand and paddle, for well over a year. He didn’t like it, but he was fairly used to it. He lay still over my lap as the paddle began its job of subtly reddening his rear.

His reactions built slowly, as subtly as the change in his coloring. Was that a sob? Had I heard one before? You weren’t quite sure. It was like watching a child grow. You could tell he was bigger than the year before, but you were never sure when it happened. All I knew was that he was still and quiet at first, but at some point, his body began to jerk and he began to quietly gasp. The small jerks became mild squirming and light kicks; the gasps, sobs. By the time his bottom and upper legs were a deep, dry red, he was crying loud and hard and struggling and kicking.

At that point, I planted a number of fast, hard smacks back and forth on his sit spots, pushing him right to the edge of breaking, but not quite over. Steve might have never grown complacent about that paddle, but he was accustomed enough to it that I would probably have had to leave him black and blue to leave him bawling and out of control when using it.

I switched the paddle to my left hand and gently rubbed his bottom for a moment until he realized the spanking was over, then helped him up. He did a vigorous fire dance; jumping, shifting from foot to foot, and rubbing, not caring about the show he was giving Ryan and me with his boyhood bobbing or how silly his antics looked. I’m sure Ryan was half entertained, and half chagrined by the idea that he’d soon be doing the same thing.

When Steve’s performance drew to an end, he darted in for a quick hug. I held him for a moment, then let him step back and handed him the paddle. He moved back a little further to give Ryan room to go over my lap. Reluctance screamed in Ryan’s every move, but he stepped forward and let me guide him into the proper position over my lap. It wasn’t too unusual for me to have Steve across my bare legs, but I didn’t have the chance often with other boys, and I loved the feel of Ryan there.

As I’ve said, Ryan was only slightly shorter than Steve and fit just the same way. I even noticed that Ryan tried to mimic the position Steve had taken, which was very close to what I’d done with him when I’d spanked him before. I gave him a little help until he was ready.

The hand spanking I gave Ryan was almost identical to what I’d given him before. I spanked in no regular pattern and concentrated on building a sting. I took my time with it, moving around, and making sure to redden the entire area. Ryan took it well at first, but he seemed to try to hold back his reactions. Where Steve’s built so slowly you weren’t sure if you were just imagining them, Ryan seemed to reach a plateau for a moment, then plunge over it. The little jerks in his feet and shoulders seemed to intensify a bit as he tensed up, then sobs would just explode from him. The same when he started to really cry. As the burning built, he began to really squirm and struggle, but never tried to block my hand. I did have to firm my grip around his waist to keep him from pushing himself off my lap, though.

If Ryan had thought he’d be getting the paddle in place of part of his spanking, he was in for a major disappointment. As his bottom and upper legs reached a uniform, dark red, he was crying aloud, nearly as hard as Steve had been. I placed a few more swats, where he wasn’t quite as red, then stopped. The poor kid let himself go, collapsing across my legs, though he wasn’t quite bawling yet.

I held my stinging hand out to Steve. He looked blank for a minute, then mutely shook his head. I raised my eyebrow and warned him, "Now, Steven James."

He winced, but took a step back.

"He won’t thank you for it, Steve. He needs this."

Tears started to roll down Steve’s face again, but he stepped forward and handed me the paddle.

I’d taken my time with the hand spanking, but the paddling was almost a blur. Ryan wailed when he felt the wood come to rest against his bottom, and I had to pause a minute to get him back into position and have him relax a bit. Most of his promised dose of the paddle landed in five rapid-fire, back and forth swats to each sit spot. He was bawling before I finished those, but it didn’t stop me from placing the last three at the lowest part of the crack, right over his little pucker hole.

When it was done, I dropped the paddle on the desk behind me and gently rubbed his bottom. After a few moments, I tried to help him to his feet, but he was too wiped out, so I swung him around to sit in my lap. He avidly dove into the hug and clung to me, begging for comfort. I whispered to him, promising it was over and telling him how brave he’d been and how proud I was and that he was forgiven. After a few moments, jealously bit, and Steve pushed in beside him. Ryan and I both made room for him to join us, and I held him just as tightly, promising that I loved him, and never making it clear which I meant. I think they both realized that I meant them both.

After a minute, the two of them climbed to their feet and Ryan, who was still too sore for much in the way of acrobatics, nevertheless displayed an energetic fire dance. He was too sore to worry about it now, but he’d been right to be embarrassed earlier, because he put on quite a show, and I caught Steve smiling at it, with a hint of embarrassment that his show had been worse.

I escorted the two of them to the bathroom, telling them it was time to be in bed, and that I wasn’t going to let them waste any more time. Ryan was very shy as the two of them stepped up to the stool and crossed streams, but his blush only made it cuter. I waited while they washed their faces and got a drink.

"Ready for bed now?"

Steve nodded, but Ryan suddenly looked startled to realize he was still naked. "My shorts!" he exclaimed as he started back for my office.

"They’ll be there in the morning, Ryan. For now, I’m sure you really don’t want anything rubbing that, do you?"

His eyes went wide, but he nodded, as he carefully reached behind him.

I escorted them back to Steve’s room, where he’d left his reading lamp on. I walked over to his bed with him and quietly asked him, "Do the two of you play around together?"

Steve nodded matter-of-factly, so I suggested, "Should I put you in bed together? You’d probably sleep easier if you helped each other relax." His wide smile was all the answer I needed.

"Ryan," I called the other boy, "grab your pillow and c’mere."

Curiously, he did as I instructed and climbed in beside Steve, moving very carefully. As I’d done with my son, I gave him a little help to keep as much weight off his backside as possible. I reached past Ryan to give Steve a kiss on the cheek, which I’d avoided doing while Ryan was sleeping over. I straightened up and started to reach for the lamp, then saw the look in Ryan’s eyes. I bent again and kissed him as I had Steve, before clicking the light off.

"Final time tonight: good night, boys."

"Night, Jack."

"Night, Dad," they echoed each other.

Even before I was out of the room, I heard the two of them whispering and giggling a bit. Before I could pull the door shut, Ryan’s voice rose, "He knows?"

After the embarrassment evident in that last question, I expected Ryan to be uncomfortable with me the next day when I came home from work. I was pleasantly surprised, though. While he did seem a little shyer than usual, we had a nice dinner together, then spread out and played some Magic, testing the new deck that he and Steve had started on before their spankings and finished while I was at work. After a couple of false starts, Ryan even asked a couple of questions about boys playing together in bed that he’d always been too embarrassed or scared to ask his own father.

After several games of Magic, we stretched out and I talked him into watching The Maltese Falcom with me. He loved it and wanted to try Casablanca, but I made him get ready for bed first. He came back in just his briefs, and we sat on the couch to watch the next movie, after he asked me if Steve really went nude all the time like he said. I assured him that Steve did and told him it’d be all right if he wanted to try it, but he wasn’t feeling quite that confident yet.

Ryan fell asleep before the end of Casablanca, tucked in against my side, so I carried him to Steve’s room and tucked him into bed. Leaning over, I murmured ‘I love you’ and gently kissed him good night. He must have been a little awake, because he smiled up at me and, as I flicked off the light, I heard a quiet voice answer, "I love you, too."





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