Beach bum

z used beach bum

Hank stared forlornly through the great plate window at the valley below. A mist heat was rising. It must be at least one-hundred-and-ten in the shade. The room was freezing; air-con does that. He shivered. Part cold. Part fear.

He had been such a damn idiot. He had a great thing going. Now, it was about to be destroyed. He had nobody to blame but himself. Any moment now it would be all over.

He paced the elegantly furnished room. Stood in front of the mirror. Admired himself. Really liked what he saw. Natural blond. Great ass. Smooth skin. Natural, mostly. Liberal splashes of body lotion day and night helped a lot. Chest and stomach shaved hairless. Fine fair hairs on arms and legs. You needed a spy glass to see them. Well-defined muscles. Mostly natural again. Sporty nineteen year olds had little need for the gym.

His deep suntan gave him a healthy glow. It contrasted with his skin-tight swim trunks. Sex on a stick.

Randy would be here any time now. “Wait for me at home.” That had been the text message. Short. Simple. Not a request. A command. Wait, I am coming home. Wait, I will deal with you when I get there.

Why had he been so stupid? Cutting community college. Hanging out on the beach. Soaking up the sun. How much did Randy know? A natural blond boy with a great ass gets lots of offers. Well, what’s a boy to do?

Hank opened the cocktail cabinet. Was it too early for a Scotch? No, he was in enough shit. Didn’t need to shovel in some more. He pulled out a Coke, found some ice. Poured. Couldn’t figure why his hands were shaking so much. Slurped it down in two gulps. Spluttered. Too much gas.

The door swung open. Hank stood shocked. He hadn’t heard Randy’s car pull up. Didn’t know he was home.

Randy. Thirty-two years old. Successful movie exec. Stash of cash. Could buy anything he wanted. Well, maybe, not everything. Seemed like he couldn’t buy Hank.

Hank flushed deep red. Like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Put down his glass. Stood. Stared. Heart thumping. Waiting. Shivering.

Randy cut to the chase. Like the movie guy he was. Cutting college. Why was he wasting his life? Did he want to go back to flipping burgers? Living in a sweaty rooming house? Back to the life before Randy found him? Did he know how much that college was costing him?

So many questions. No answers. Not from Hank. He waited. Waited for the real question. The killer. The one that would get his butt kicked out the house. Kicked all the way down the Valley. Kicked back to selling his ass on street corners.

The question: why was Hank screwing around?

Silence. Then more silence. Seemed like Randy was done. He had said all he came to say. Nothing about fucking boys at the beach. He didn’t know. Or, didn’t want to admit it.

“What did I say would happen if you cut college again?”

Say? Hank didn’t know. Had he said something? Sure, they had argued about it. Randy genuinely wanted Hank to get on. Go to college, get qualifications. Be someone. He gladly paid college fees. Books. The works.

And, how did Hank repay him? He hit the beach and worked on his tan.

“I said if you cut college again I was gonna spank that great ass of yours until it glowed in the dark.”

Hank grinned. He remembered that. But, it was a joke. Right? The drink talking.

“So, that’s just what I’m gonna do.” He started to unbuckle his wide leather belt. “Spank you.”

Hank flushed deep red. Flashed Randy one of his toothy white grins. The one that showed his boyish dimples. The smile that always did it for Randy. Got him hot. Horny. “You can’t spank me. You love me.”

“It’s because I love you.” Randy returned the grin. He did love the boy. Proper love. Not just lust. Loved him for his faults as well. Not just for that incredible smooth skin and tight ass. Loved him enough to whip him good when he needed it.

“C’mon.” Randy was a man of action. He already had a chair in the middle of the room. Sat down. His thick, wide, leather belt tripled up in his right hand. A foot or so of leather. Enough to take the fair skin off Hank’s rear.

Hank stared. Dumfounded. Could this really be happening? A spanking? From his boyfriend?

“C’mon. Get over my lap.” Said almost as a request. Then sterner. “Now!!”

Hank couldn’t breathe. Blood rushed to his ears. His eyes welled. Tears. He was about to cry. Hadn’t even shown his buttocks to Randy yet. No lash marks across his pert cheeks. Yet.

Hank was obedient. He knew he had to do this. Flipping burgers. Shitty rooms. They were the past. The here and now. The future. That was bending across Randy’s knee. Taking a spanking.

Hank moved forward. Rested his hands on Randy’s left leg. Slowly eased himself over. Put both palms flat on the floor ahead of him. Legs straight behind him. Pert butt resting snugly over Randy’s right leg.

Hank stared at the floor tiles as Randy prepared. He used the boy’s back as a shelf and rested the belt. With slow deliberate care he held the waist of the yellow and pink swim trunks. Tugged them down. Over those delicious buttocks. Down to the thighs. Saw the butt was as tanned as the rest of Hank’s sexy body. Smacked his hand into the boy’s left cheek. “You been running around naked!” Slapped some more. Hard. Stingers. Hank gasped. The spanking was getting to him already and it hadn’t really begun.

Hank couldn’t find his breath. His mouth was drying. Saliva collecting at his throat made him gag a little.

The teenager was submissive. He knew Randy was in charge. Knew he had let his boyfriend down. In more ways than Randy knew. He raised his butt higher. Made it an easier target. Like he was saying, “I know I am bad. I deserve this spanking.”

Randy picked up the belt from off Hank’s back. It was long. Too long to whip an ass at short distance. He folded it in three. Gripped it in his right hand and tapped it gently over the centre of the nineteen-year-old’s buttocks. He was finding his spot. Testing his aim.

Hank sucked in air. His buttocks trembled. His hole winked. His crack opened and closed. A reflex. Nothing he could do to control it. Randy ran the middle finger of his left hand down the hairless crack. Stopped at the hole. It was wide open. He inserted his finger gently. Hank winced. Randy needed to cut his fingernails. Randy would enjoy riding that hole later.

Randy raised his arm as high as it could go. Ready to lash the leather into the bared flesh. As hard as he possibly could. The buttocks clenched. Another natural reflex. Hank had no control over them.

Whap. Crack! The sound of a thick leather belt connecting with bare flesh bounced around the room.

Hank’s eyes glared. Pain. It was not too bad. He kept still, butt still raised high. Waiting for number two.

It was not long coming. Randy had a rhythm. One whack every ten seconds. He lashed the belt down. Again and again and again. Until every part of Hank’s buttocks were sunset red.

Then, he stopped. Hank wheezed. Gasped. Couldn’t get air into his lungs. The pain grew. His ass cheeks felt like leather. The bruises would be around for some time. No more hanging out at the beach.

Randy hadn’t done. He was only pausing. He gripped Hank tightly at the waist. Preparing an onslaught. Making sure the naughty little teen was going nowhere.

Swipe! The leather belt landed with maximum force. Randy with the power of a man possessed.

The belt rose and fell quickly. Hank’s legs buckled at the knees. He kicked out. His body squirmed. His arms flailed. His swim trunks were at his feet. They stopped him thrashing about. He kicked them clear. Halfway across the room.

The relentless pounding of his butt continued. Hank wanted to be brave. Be stoic. Not cry out. Take his punishment. Make Randy forgive him. Hank yelped. Quietly at first. Then louder. He sounded like a little whipped puppy.

With no let up on the downward strokes, Randy grabbed Hank’s right arm and roughly shoved it up the teen’s back, so his hand was pinned at the shoulder blades. He was going nowhere until Randy said so.

Now, Randy could do what he wanted. Hank was at his total mercy. He had no choice, he must lay there face down, bare butt high and take a severe spanking.

The belt went up and up and down. Up and down. At great speed. Hank gasped in air, but couldn’t fill his lungs. He wheezed out breath and tried to counter the intense pain running from his ass and tingling every nerve in his body.

Tears flowed. Snot ran from his nose. Please God in heaven make Randy stop, he prayed.

Hank felt a movement in Randy’s body. Yes, there was a God. He rested the belt on the small of the boy’s back. Randy had his own problems breathing. He was exhausted himself.

Hank was still across his knees, but Randy had let go his grip. Hank could stand up and flee if he wanted to. He didn’t. His breathing was easier. He was calming down. He would stay in position until Randy said he could get up.

It was taking a long time. Hank hoped he was not just resting. Getting energy for another attack on his scorched buttocks. He has had enough. Can’t take any more.

Then Randy spoke. “Get up. Slowly.” Hank put both hands on the floor ahead of him. Lifted his body from Randy’s knees. Tried to stand. Stumbled and fell forward. Hit the floor. Stayed there. His whole body shaking.

Hank lifted himself off the floor onto his knees. His forehead bounced against the tiles as he gasped and wheezed. Tried to get the energy to stand. Randy sat in his chair. His feet inches from Hank’s face. The teen leaned forward. Puckered his lips. Kissed Randy’s left foot. Then his right.

This story was first uploaded in August 2016

Picture credit: Unknown

Other stories you might like.

The drunken neighbour

The coach and the schoolmaster

The sneak thief


More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website

Also writing school stories as Scholastic here

Charles Hamilton the Second

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