The three lads were seated together at a table in the students’ union bar, each staring at the screen of their phones when Gaz approached beer bottle in hand and breathless. He obviously had important information to impart.
“You’ll never guess, you’ll never guess,” he beamed. “I can hardly believe it myself.” None of his pals looked away from their gadgets. Gaz sucked on his bottle. “No,” he repeated, “I just can’t believe it.”
He took another swig and waited until he had the attention of at least one of his intended audience. When it was clear he had lost that battle he pressed on regardless.
“It was Toby, you know Toby.” Toby was one of his housemates. He shared a rundown terraced house with two other guys from the university. Toby was a boisterous nineteen-year-old boy and well known around the bars and clubs of Brocklehurst. He had an easy charm, a winning smile and a lovely bum (or so the girls – and one or two of the boys – said).
“Well,” Gaz spoke to no one in particular, “I knew something was up this morning. He was really cagey like. He’s usually full of himself.”
Roly, dim-witted as always, looked away from the screen in his hand, “Which one’s Toby?” Gaz took another swig, glad to have got some attention at last. “Fair haired lad, second year economics. Went out with Lisa, the girl with the big …” he mimed large breasts. “You know him, you’ve met him loads of time.”
Roly nodded assent, but still not sure who Gaz was talking about. “So,” Gaz went on, “I knew something was up because Toby was asking whether I’d be at home later in the day. He’s never asked that before. I knew it couldn’t be a girl. Y’know he was going to bring a girl home because that’s never bothered him before. I’ve come home before and found him shagging on the sofa in the front room, so I knew it couldn’t be that.”
Jez looked up from his phone. He had been listening and texting at the same time. “Are you going to get to the point?” he sneered. Gaz could be full of wind, sometimes, he thought.
“Yeah, yeah,” Gaz was too excited, the words just tumbled out. “So I said I didn’t know. Why? And he said his dad was visiting that afternoon and I said, ‘oh, I’ve never met him, what’s he like?’ and Toby turns his back on me and goes on fixing his breakfast. Cornflakes it was and then he says really softly, ‘He’s bit old-fashioned’.”
Gaz excitedly brandished his beer bottle as he continued his story. “And then Toby took his cornflakes into the living room and I never saw him again. Not until later. Not until it happened.” He paused to catch his breath. “I can’t believe it, I really can’t believe it.”
Jez peered through his spectacles at his pal. He knew now Gaz had started his story there was no way to stop him until he had finished. Jez wasn’t interested but he knew he had to let his pal get on with it. Gaz’s tales were always so lame.
“So,” Gaz continued, “I went to university.” Jez sighed, “Now he’s going to tell us which lectures he went to and what homework he was given,” he thought as he picked up his phone and thumbed the screen.
Gaz was undeterred by Jez’s seeming indifference. Gaz wasn’t fooled. Jez liked people to think he was cool ad detached, but he wasn’t, he was dying to hear the story, Gaz was certain of that. “So,” Gaz licked his lips tasting beer, “You won’t believe it. I don’t believe it myself. I went home about two. I don’t have classes on Tuesday afternoon. So, when I got home I knew something was wrong. It just felt strange. I can’t explain it. There was an atmosphere. Then I heard voices. Well, one voice really. One I didn’t recognise. A man. An older man. Then, I remember Toby said his dad was coming. So, then I didn’t think much of it and I started to go upstairs but on my way I noticed that the door of the kitchen was open.”
Gaz paused for what he hoped was dramatic effect. Roly’s mouth hung open, he looked engrossed, but you could never tell with him. Most times he looked a bit retarded. Dim-witted. No one could understand that. He was a physicist and well on his way to getting a first class degree.
“I can’t believe it,” Gaz leaned forward. “You’ll never guess what I saw.” He waved his bottle, “Go on guess.”
“Oh for Christ sake get on with it,” Marc signalled for the first time that he had been listening. “Just tell us,” he grouched.
“I was going to, wasn’t I.” Gaz was miffed but he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I went over to the door and peered in. It was open, I had a clear view.” He pointed to a nearby table, “I was that close. I saw it all.” Marc rolled his eyes but kept his temper.
“I don’t believe it,” Gaz drained his bottle, “There was Toby and his dad and Toby’s dad was sat on a chair and Toby was across his dad’s knees and he was getting his bottom spanked.” Gaz knew he had his pals’ attention when he added, “Toby had his jeans at his knees and his dad was slapping his hand across Toby’s underpants.” Gaz paused to catch his wind, “And, he was letting him. Toby was letting him spank his backside. I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it.”
Roly shuffled his buttocks against the hard chair. Yes, he could believe it. He would never dare tell the others but his own father was very handy with a hairbrush. As he was reminded just before the start of the present term. Roly was in one of his moods. God only knew what had set him off, a lack of sex probably; he didn’t find it easy to meet gay boys back home. He was in a foul temper and let his mother know. Roly might look stupid a lot of the time but he could be a right bully when he wanted to. That day his poor mother felt the full force. Well, it quickly became one of those “wait til your father gets home” moments.
Later that night just before bedtime Roly was paid a visit. “Your mother has told me all about it,” his father intoned. The hairbrush he clutched tightly in his hand demonstrated his intentions. “Stand up.” Roly had been stretched out on his bed wearing only pyjama bottoms. He had no time to reflect that had his father delayed his visit by a couple of minutes those pyjamas would have been bunched at his shins and his cock would be in his hand.
Without a word, Roly rolled off the bed. He watched dispassionately as his father sat down, his weight making a considerable dent in the mattress. He spread his legs and tapped the heavy, wooden hairbrush against his left knee. “You know what to do,” he spoke calmly. There was never any question that his nineteen-year-old son would obey the command. Roly asked for no clemency; he had been foul to his mother. She didn’t deserve that. Roly needed to learn to control his emotions, especially his temper. His father would help him to learn that.
Roly was standing close to his father, looking down at the platform his old man had made to take Roly’s prone body. Without hesitation, Roly took a step forward and gently lowered himself down. He had been here before, he knew what to do. He reached his arms forward so that they were spread-eagled across the bed, behind him his legs dangled in mid-air. Like this his stomach rested across his father’s thighs and his bottom pointed towards the ceiling. He was presented in the perfect position to receive the spanking he so richly deserved.
There was only one more thing to be done before punishment commenced. It did not startle the boy, he was expecting it to happen. His father took a firm grip of the elasticated waist of the blue-and-white-striped pyjama bottoms and tugged vigorously. It took four goes before Roly’s firm, round cheeks were fully bared. With no jacket, he was now naked from his head to his shins. He closed his eyes and steeled himself for the pain to come.
It was a large oval-headed hairbrush and it made a terrific spanking took. Soon the pattern of the brush was embossed over and over again across Roly’s hairless bottom. The boy gasped and struggled to keep his composure. He was no virgin to this but a bare-bottom spanking, even when you are nineteen, is an awesome punishment. The crack of wood against solid buttock bounced off the walls. Roly wasn’t to know but his mother stood the other side of his bedroom door, a content look of deep satisfaction on her face.
“So,” Gaz had not finished his story, “You won’t believe it, I didn’t. I stood there watching Toby’s dad spank his arse. Whack, whack, whack. I don’t know how much it hurt. Toby was just lying there with his hands on the ground and his feet in the air while his dad whacked away. It didn’t look like it hurt too much. I wouldn’t know, would you?”
Roly wriggled his buttocks and hoped he wasn’t blushing. Jez mumbled, “I don’t know, do I,” and took a keen interest in the label of the bottle in his hand.
“So,” Gaz sniggered a little, “I don’t believe it. I was standing there in the doorway and suddenly Toby turns his head and sees me watching him. Well, I don’t know how red his bum was but his face went scarlet. Glowed it did. ‘Oh fcuk!’ he screeches and I just stood there with my mouth wide open. I didn’t know what to say. Or do.”
Jez laughed, “Bloody hell.”
“That’s not it, that’s not the end of it,” Gaz chortled, “So, his dad says, ‘What did you say? What did you say?’ all pompous like, ‘I’m not having language like that.’ And, d’you know what he did? D’you know? He only took hold of Toby’s pants and pulled them down. Right down and he whacks the poor sod even harder than ever across the bare arse. I don’t believe it. And, still Toby’s just lying there, letting him do it.”
Gaz shook his head to emphasise his disbelief. “And he goes on spanking him like that for a long time. Minutes easily. Toby’s bum was bright red by the time his dad was done with him.” He paused for breath, delighted that he now had the full attention of his pals. “So, his dad finally finishes. ‘Get up,’ he growls, ‘Leave your trousers and pants down. Stand in the corner.’ Of course, Toby does this without a whimper. So, his dad turns to me and says, ‘Sorry you had to see that.’ So, he puts his jacket on and leaves.”
Gaz snorted, “So, Toby only carries on standing there in the corner with his hands on his head like some naughty schoolboy. I was so embarrassed I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t take my eyes off his scarlet bum. You could see the outline of his dad’s fingers all over it. Anyway I says to him, ‘You do know your dad’s gone.’ And Toby says, ‘I don’t trust him, he might come back.’”
Gaz waved his empty bottle, “I still don’t know what he did to get himself spanked. I don’t believe it. I just don’t. Whose round is it?” Jez started to rise from his chair but fell back immediately. “Err, not mine,” he spluttered, hoping none of the others had seen the huge erection bursting against the front of his trousers.
Picture credit: British Boys Fetish Club
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More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website
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Charles Hamilton the Second