Saturday night finally came. Eric's Dad had dropped him off at our house that morning on schedule as he headed out of town for awhile. I had to admit he couldn't have set things up better with his request if he'd tried and then it kept getting better.
With Eric and Larry standing right there beside me in the drive as Eric's Dad went to get back into the car after the boy's suitcase had been deposited inside the front door, his father didn't mince words.
"Remember, Eric," he said, "I don't expect you to cause any problems around here. No trouble. No games. Nothing. You behave, you hear me, son?"
"Yea, no problem, Pop." He'd replied calmly.
"Well," he said then to me, "You take care of my boy. And you take what I said before seriously, ya' hear me?"
I'd smiled and nodded, looking at Eric standing there.
"I meant it. He give ya' any trouble, don't wait for me to get back. You whip his butt good for him."
"Don't worry. I will."
I had no problem replying honestly. Eric's bare bottom would surely be good and tanned, in good shape, when he returned.
"Good. Now behave yourself, son. I know you've been ancy recently, but calm down and be good until I get back. If I hear from Cal that you've given him any trouble, you can count on a trip to the basement and I'm gonna' whip you all over again."
Hum, I thought to myself, this boy's in for more than he imagines.
"Ah, don't worry, Pop." Eric shuffled on his feet. "I'll be fine here."
I clasped my hand around his shoulder, and tried to relieve the situation for the boy.
"He's going to be fine around here, just fine. Don't worry about him."
"Humph, well, guess I got'ta get out of here and hit the road. See ya!
We shook hands, Larry shook his hand to, and he cuffed Eric before he got back into his car, backed down the road, and was waving as he drove down the front street.
Eric stood there, tall, lanky, handsome sort of guy, dressed in a Royal Blue Sweat shirt, jeans neatly pressed, thin black leather belt, black penny loafers and black socks. Nothing wrong with this one that a little quality time for letting him know how things were going to be around here couldn't cure and cure quickly. If he was nervous or had any hint of what he was in for, he didn't let on. To the contrary, he smiled beautiful as he and Larry began talking again and headed off to do something or the others.
The rest of the morning and the afternoon were uneventful. Eric and Larry started work on the lawn, Larry's normal Saturday afternoon job. Aaron was off at a shoot and wouldn't be back until the following afternoon. Tonight Larry would be gone as well. And tonight was Tom's date infamous with Sally. He was the most nervous of all. I couldn't believe he was so concerned about going to the movies with her.
I paid attention to Eric every chance I had. While he was spending most of his time with his friend, Larry, he interacted with me with care and courtesy every chance he had, though with the normal caution every boy initially has when he's a house guest at a friend's place. Maybe it was more than that? I wasn't sure.
Eric surely knew Larry was still subject to a swift swat or two across his bottom when he messed up something, as well as still getting spankings when that seemed necessary. Sure, the boys talked among themselves and sometimes built a kind of fake macho camaraderie amongst their peers as to who was getting it most and hardest, though none would ever admit to a tear or worse. All of that was just to be expected, especially in our more isolated community where there was none of the liberal pabulum that prevented many other teenage boys from getting what they needed as they grew up. Larry was far beyond all of that in most ways. With me still his legal guardian and given the way his own Dad had brought him up before heading north with his new wife, with Larry there was never any doubt that if he screwed up or miss something he was suppose to do, his jeans and briefs would get yanked down and he'd get spanked for sure! After this length of time, he took that for granted. It was dependability. And because of that Larry didn't screw up much any more. Still all it took was a certain look or an unseen touch of my hand to his jean's-covered seat of this pants and he'd be right back in line pronto. Eric hadn't had that benefit. But then again Eric also did not have the closeness of the relationship between Larry and myself. It was apparent we both simply liked each other and enjoyed each other's company 'cause we did! Aaron was another matter. Nothing though ever comes close to approximating the evident care and genuine respect between Larry and me, boy and his guardian.
Over lunch, I asked Larry about his Report in Comp Class and he produced it with great fanfare and pleasure. "A+" and glowing comments from his teacher.
That gave me a chance to ask Eric how he'd done?
"Not bad" was the best he could manage but he looked at me. I was sure he didn't know I had the note from that teacher during that game the other night. That chance remark by his teacher while we sat watching Eric and Larry compete at the pool had already told me what I needed to know about his report and now I had, upstairs, the teacher's comments and a copy of that section she had guessed had been copied from an encyclopedia, remember? The report had a large "D" on the top.
"Where's your report, Eric?" I asked. "Larry has his."
"Ah, I didn't get mine back yet from her," he replied pausing in his meal.
Well he had that part right.
"What grade did you get?" I inquired casually.
"Just a 'B,' Sir." He replied and sounded as since and forthright as most boy do when asked something they really don't want to answer truthfully.
"Not bad," I replied mocking his earlier tone and we all laughed. "You sure?"
"Yes, Sir." He looked at me as if he hadn't expected the question but he replied yet again, setting himself up nicely.
But he did look at me even more curiously when I added, "Well, we can talk about it and lots of things later tonight when everyone else is gone."
Talk? You bet ya!
Later? No question!
Everyone else gone! For sure!
Of course Eric knew he was not telling the truth just then. Boy's always do. Eric was going to find out for himself that tonight might just be special!
Sometimes it is easy to tell when a boy needs one. Someone to call him to the line and give him the chance to fez up and get it out of his system, and, in my experience, it's amazing how fast he fezzes up when your hands begin to unbuckle his belt and he faces the humiliation of having his jeans and briefs lowered for him and his nice, young bare bottom exposed and bared in front of you, knowing he's going to get a good old fashioned spanking.
Eric looked at me and seemed to know I knew something he didn't.' It's always amazed me how a boy, when you've really clicked with him and are in tune with this, well, that boy always seems to know when it's getting close to that time when he's going to get his jeans taken down and he's going to get his spanking.
Eric and I were going to have a little talk, later.
What can I say? It was a normal afternoon. Saturday type work and fixing those few things that I never seemed to get to during the week and never wanted to be bothered with on a Sunday. Tom came in an out. Actually he seemed more on edge about this evening than anyone. Larry and Tom proceeded as if nothing much was up. Harry even called and put in his two cent's worth. Actually he was looking for Aaron but Aaron was off working. Tom would be going back to Harry's place soon and that would handle that. You better believe Aaron was looking forward to that day!
When Tom was left standing around and just waiting for his date to be dropped off by her Dad on the way to wherever he might be going, he was more than edgy.
Wouldn't hurt him.
Finally, they drove up in the car and she was at the door. The surprising things, at least to me, was she didn't seem at all like the aggressive, more sarcastic young lady that Tom had described from the Principal's office the other day. She seemed demur, almost petite, and very pretty to my mind. We chatted awhile and he took the car, my car (!) and they went off to the movies.
Larry had gone earlier.
That left Eric alone in the house. He sat there watching an NFL special, his eyes glued to that set. I left him alone and went to do some things I had wanted to finish earlier, until I walked back in at about 9 p. m. and picking up the remote, cancelled his viewing pleasure.
"Hey! What'd ya do that. . .." He had spun around and was looking at me at if he'd temporarily forgotten who's house he was in.
"TV time's up for the night for you, my boy."
I tossed the remote down on an arm chair to the side.
"What do ya' mean?" He hadn't understood apparently?
"Just what I said. That's it for tonight."
"But Dad never. . ." He started to object.
"I said that's it, boy. You need me to make that even clearer with the paddle?"
Eric just glared at me. He moved his body from the more comfortable, casually relaxed position he'd been watching TV in and slid up straight in the couch, his hands coming down and resting at his side, his eyes open and looking at me with an expression of clear seriousness now.
"No, Sir." He spoke up clearly. "No, Sir. I don't. I'm sorry I misspoke a moment a go. I'm not sure what I was thinking, Sir. I apologize."
"So it's clear enough to you without the paddle, is it, Son?"
"Yes, Sir. I apologize again, Sir." His body was even stiffer now. His voice sharper, clearer, much crisper. Still I knew he knew it was that paddle he was going to get. A boy can always tell.
"You and I have something to talk about tonight, Eric." I said almost matter-of-factly.
"Ah, OK, ah, sure, sure no problem. Like what?" He was smiling, trying to relieve the situation, make amends, turn it around.
"Go on into my office here and take a seat. We can talk privately in there. I'll be in in a moment. Know where it is in this place?" I turned and started to walk towards the kitchen.
"Ah, yea, sure. Sure, Sir. I'll wait for you there."
You're _d_a_m_n_ed right you'll wait for me there, I thought, smiling to myself. Looking over my shoulder I saw him walking out and going in the right direction.
I finished putting a few things away in the kitchen that Larry just hadn't had time to finish himself. No big deal. We typically shared stuff around the place anyway and he'd needed to leave when he had without worrying about something like that.
Maybe fifteen, maybe twenty minutes later, I finished and went to join Eric in that home office.
The office itself was like what many families have these days. Desk up against the wall so when I worked I at least could see a few birds when I glanced left, out the window. Basic computer, desk, files for the IRA always waiting for the attention I never got around to giving them until the very last minute. Hey, I'm normal! At least I always managed to get the bills and receipts separated, so when I did get around to it, life wouldn't be completely miserable.
Anyway, Eric was sitting on the wooden oak side chair when I slid into the swivel desk chair and turned a bit to my left to look at him. He was just sitting there looking at me.
"Ah, what'd ya want to talk with me about, Sir?" His voice rang clear with sopping sincerity.
"What's your Father think about lying, Eric?"
"Ah, Sir. Sorry, Sir, but what do you mean, Sir?"
"Exactly what I said, Eric. What does your father think about lying?"
He fidgeted a little bit, moved his hands around and all and then seemed to get up enough never to answer.
"He's again it, Sir."
"Good, Son. So am I, by the way."
"That's good too, Sir." He replied and almost seemed to start to chuckle.
"So you been lying around here today, Eric?"
"Lying, Eric, lying. You been lying since you've been here?"
"No, No, Sir, no way!" he spoke out clearly.
"You sure about that, Eric?" I gave him a change.
"Sure, yes, Sure. I haven't lied about anything, Sir."
I smiled back at the boy. Jeez, he was handsome. Still not really caught on to things, but it's better that way. I pulled out a file from the drawer on my desk and tossed it in his direction. The file hit the edge of the desk while I propped my feet up, hands cuffed back behind my head and sat back looking at the boy.
"What is that, Eric?"
"Ah, I don't know, Sir." He seemed almost immobilized.
"Pick up that folder and open it." His hand moved a bit. "What is it, Eric?"
As I rocked a bit on the swivel chair, the boy reached out and cautiously, even gingerly picked up that brown, typical manila file folder I'd tossed toward him on my desk. He looked at me and then looked at that folder in his hands. He opened the folder and looked at it.
He seemed to be studying it, maybe thinking, maybe something else, but whatever he was doing or thinking he was certainly looking at it intently while his face began to flush beautifully but slowly. I studying his intensity. Let him take all the time in the world now. A spanking's a coming tonight!
He kept studying that darned folder in his hands for the longest time.
Finally, he spoke without raising his eyes at all, "Ah, it's my report from Comp Class. Where did you get this?"
"I don't think I'd spend much time worrying about that, Eric. Now answer me this real simple question. Is that your report?
"Ah, Yes, Sir. It's mind all right." He still wasn't looking at me.
"And what grade do you see on top of it, Eric?" I asked.
"A 'D,' Sir. It's marked with a 'D'."
"Yes, that's what that mark looks like to me too, Eric." I tried to be more serious now. "It's a 'D' I agree."
"Yes, Sir." Now he was finally looking at me.
"And think back now. At lunchtime, what did you tell Larry you made on that report?"
"Ah, I don't remember, Sir, but I think I told him I hadn't gotten it back yet, didn't I?"
"Did you, now?"
"I think so, Sir."
"So think real hard, Eric. Think harder, my boy. WHAT did YOU tell Larry?"
He was fidgeting more now, squirming a bit. His face remained flush while he looked down at his lap.
"I think I told him I hadn't gotten it back yet, Sir?"
"Eric. Eric. Eric, my boy. I want you to stop right there, and I want you to take your good old time and think, really think, real carefully now, Son. Understand me?"
"Ah, yes, Sir."
"What did you just tell me about what your Dad thought about your lying, Son?"
"Ah, he doesn't like it, Sir."
"And when he catching you at it, Son. What's he do about it?"
"Ah, I try my best never to lie, Sir; but well, If he catches, ah, sometimes I get a talking to or something like that or I get extra jobs I got'ta do around, around the place, and stuff like that, Sir."
"Ah, mostly, Sir." He was looking more somberly now, still flushing though.
"He doesn't pull down those jeans and spank you for it, Eric?"
I looked right at him now. I couldn't be sure but it was almost as if he was beginning to swat a bit about his brow. He certainly got very stiff and very quiet and he stayed stiff and quiet.
"Answer me, Eric." I brought back his attention. "And tell me the truth, Son. Does your Dad spank you when he catches you lying?"
Despite his age and polish, this student government president looked like a much younger teenage boy right now.
"Yes," he looked up with tears forming now in his eyes. "Sometimes, he does, Sir. Yea, sometimes he spanks me."
"And how long since the last time he spanked you, Eric?"
Eric did the royal fidget now. Under those cool, neat denim jeans his bottom had to be twanging now.
"About three weeks ago, Sir."
"For lying, Sir."
"Well, that's strange. Three weeks ago you're telling me your Dad had to take his time to spank you for lying?"
"Ah, yes, Sir."
"Well, then you think real hard, Eric, real hard, and you tell me what grade you told Larry you got on this here Comp Report while we were all, me included, sitting around the table having lunch this afternoon? And you take your time and think about what you're about to answer 'cause we all believe in 'spare the rod and spoil the child' real strongly around here. I'm going to get a cup of coffee now and you better have your answer ready by the time I get back here."
Eric dropped his head in his hands, dejected, his hair flopped down covering his face so I couldn't tell if he was starting to cry now or now, but his shoulders were heaving slightly by the time I got up from my desk and walked out the door.
Water never boils quickly when you're watching it. This time I was in no hurry. I hadn't but walked back in to where I'd left him waiting there before he blurted it out.
"I told him 'Not bad." It's what I told him, Sir. But you gotta' believe me, Sir. I wasn't intending to lie to him. I just didn't want to talk about it, that's all, Sir. I wasn't lying, Sir."
His eyes were pleading beautifully.
"I don't know what happened, Sir. I don't know why the teacher wrote all of this stuff on my paper, Sir. I really don't. She never explains anything to me. Just don't like me, I know; but it wasn't my fault. I know, I know, I shouldn't have said what I said, but she said she was going to talk to my Dad about that grade and she hadn't given it back to me, Sir. OK. OK, I knew that Grade was a 'D.' I know I shouldn't have said it, but I couldn't help it, Sir. I wasn't lying!"
He covered his eyes in his hands again and began crying softly.
I still hadn't sat down in my own chair yet, so my hand just rather naturally reached over and patted him on his shoulder. He responded by moving his head and shoulders to my waist and hugging me. He seemed to be crying softly for a long while, I guess. At least it was long enough that I had time to take more than a couple of sips of coffee before he seemed to half pull himself together and finally look up at me.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I'm sorry." His eyes were watery and red. He'd been crying for sure.
"Well, I'm sorry too, Eric." And I was. I meant it. "Your teacher gave me your report the other night at the game when she couldn't find your father. I thought maybe you and I could just talk about it quietly sometime."
"Jeez, I really appreciate your doing that for me. I mean like my Father's going to kill me!"
Eric looked up at me with those big watery eyes and jumped with his arms around me, his head on my shoulder, his whole body shaking. He seemed so scared.
"Are you going to tell him about this?" he asked.
"We'll talk about that later, but first you and I are going to spend some time going over all of these comments and stuff that she's got written all over this paper." I took the paper from his hand and tossed it down on the desk. "Never did understand why teachers always have to write so big with real red pencils like this one did. . . "
He started to laugh just then, and almost come alive.
"I know, I know what you mean." He said much more lively now.
"Whooah, Wait a minute, Son, let me finish."
He stopped laughing and looked at me.
"But you didn't tell the full story, son. Now did you?"
"No, I guess I didn't"
"Cause you knew what that grade was when you told Larry you didn't, now didn't you, Son?"
"Yea, I knew."
"Now you're coming clean, Son, but that's now the way we do things around this house, sorry to have to tell you that."
"I said I'm sorry, Sir."
"Well, I guess that's in your favour, but around here you don't slip out of things like that so easy, Son. . ."
"Ah, I'm really, really sorry, Sir, really, Sir."
". . . so here's what you're going to do. You're going to march right upstairs and get undress and take a good hot shower. Take you time, we've got all night, but when you're finished, you put your jeans back on and come on back down here. You and I are going to go over this report and her comments until you understand them real well and then, then when I'm good and ready I'm going to take off your jeans and spank you."
"Sir, please, I'm sorry, I really don't want you . . .." he seemed almost to stamp his food, but I cut him off, mid sentence.
"Son, in this family you are to do what you're told. You just earned yourself some time across my lap tonight with my paddle. What to try for the strap?"
"NO! NO! ! ! I'm sorry, Sir."
Eric turned and walked quickly now out of the room and I could here him clomping up the stairs to the room where he was sharing with Larry. In a few minutes the water could be heard running in the upstairs shower.
My coffee was luke warm at best now. I had to throw it out and make another cup, turning on some classical opera to add a different touch to the evening. I snuggled up alone with a blanket and listen, thinking, enjoying some time alone, knowing what was coming next. It was probably close to an hour later that Eric re-emerged into the room where I was comfortably off in my own little world. He looked fresh, had a nice fresh cologne smell about him, as he stood there in his jeans and fresh T-shirt. He said nothing. He just waited. I motioned him down beside me and together we spent a couple of hours going over that report and the teacher's comments. It was clear, at least to me, that the boy really didn't understand what the teacher was trying to say in her comments and most of what she had written was, well, quit frankly, just another perspective. She hadn't pointed out anything all that horrible about his English in that report in the first place. Still she was the teacher; he, her student. It was time I reinforced that.
"Stand up, Eric."
He did this time without any objection.
"Time I take these down, Son." My fingers opened his top metal button, undid the other fasteners and started to pull his jeans down.
"You don't have to do this, Sir. . .." He looked so young and boyish now.
"I know I don't 'have to do this,' Son, but I want to do this. You got to learn the hard way that you are never to lie or shade the truth, Son. Never. No matter the reason."
His jeans were clumped around his ankles. His white, sparkling fresh cotton briefs hugged his buns and showed his bulges in all the right and appropriate places. I ran my hands down his thighs, lingering with my fingers and clapped his behind before pulling down those brief to leave him standing there is all his youthful glory. He was truly all one would expect in a finely trained athlete. And more!
Next I had him remove his T-shirt and toss it aside while climbing out of his jeans and briefs, folding them and then returning in front of me. I had him walk like that to fetch the paddle, though I had to tell him were to find it. He walked gracefully, one strong leg than the other and slowly returned with the paddle in his hand. He handed it to me and for sure, I took it.
I took the short-handled paddle with it's wide, flat blade and stepped back and pointed it to the male's bare end. Stepping to one side, and setting my feet in a widened stance, sizing up this beautiful pure white and unblemished bottom which, was to be my target, I hauled back my hand, and struck his bare bottom with a resounding crack!
He howled immediately and his head and shoulders shot up as much as they could. The buns of his bare bottom darkened immediately, flushing with the spreading sting he was obviously feeling. Relishing the time honoured task now waiting my attention, I spanked that hardened young male's teenage bare bottom repeatedly, watching him beginning to jump from one foot to the other as I forced him to stand there before me for his paddling.
When I paused and gripped his smartingly red bare buns, there was no hint of resistance. It was a good thing, as I would have tolerated none under any circumstances.
His tears were now flowing, though he was choking them back deep inside his personal pride, trying to show in vain that his young teenager's masculine ego had not been violated. He could take it like the man, he was intent on proving to me he now way. I would not top him.
But top him I would. And I did!
And as I continued giving him the paddle across his tight, young bare bottom, he soon released himself to me and began jumping and dancing from one foot to another across the room, his _c_o_c_k_ and balls flinging wildly as he moved still crying in that dance that only young teenage boy's can do when they're being paddled and you have reached them.
All boys react and dance like that as my paddle continued to teach him the lesson he yearned to learn while he moved in circles around me as I paddled him, my left hand holding firmly to his upper left biceps to insure my ultimate control.
When he was well paddled, I took him over my lap and spanked him, spreading his buns to insure the task I had to perform was performed well, very well.
A good spanking on a quality young man is never rushed, hurried, or quick. None of this feverish slapping and in five minutes it's all over and the boy's bare behind is red and standing in your corner. Not my style at all. Take my time, talk with him, spank him well, making sure he know why and what I expect for the future and, by all means, I always take my time.
When I finally stopped spanking him and took him into my arms, his release had been complete. We had come together in ways that do not always happen. Some have explained it as the biggest natural release, natural high, humanly imaginable. Still no bruises, no fear, only a bonding.
I'd thought Eric might be special!
Now I knew how he would respond across my own knees! Well, very well.
Sometimes it was easy to tell when a boy needed one a good spanking. Eric had that night.
He stayed a bit longer than anticipated at our place when his Father was delayed, but he was no trouble. Although boy's his age almost always have traditionally short memories and he needed spanked again, he continued to come in and out of the family in the days and months that came. It was always a good occasion between the two of us. I never minded taking my time to spank him.
Larry and he grew to be good friends and spent most of their time together. Both knew they had two Dad's, though they tended to grow more mature with grades that reflected it. They continued to excel in sports and were an endless sense of pride, especially to me.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Tom and Larry had both come back that first evening I'd spanked Eric there at the house and both probably had been able to tell from looking at the boy that he had been spanked. Regardless, nothing further was mentioned about that report or that spanking by anyone. Both Tom and Larry for sure had their own lives and conduct to be more concerned about.
Life has a way of intervening sometimes, though. Down the road after that, when Tom had finally gone back to staying at Harry's place, and after Eric had felt more than a few lessons across my own lap as, of course, had Larry, I took an option and transferred. Larry, to be sure, came right along with me as we packed with Eric, Aaron and even Tom helping, though the movers did all the heavy, fragile stuff movers do. Larry and I had both become more and more excited about the new place with new opportunities.
Aaron had too much to lose career-wise in coming with us and thus stayed briefly with Harry and Tom before his own career took of to the point that he too got a solid option and ended up on the East Coast.
Life moves on.
Tom moved out from under Harry's wing as soon as he graduated from high school and began attending a vocational training course in refrigeration in the nearby major city. He is still working in that field there today and there's nothing wrong with him. There have been no more scrapes, including minor ones with any authorities up and through today.
Aaron's actually currently a face many of you would recognize. Yes, he's successful and he still flies out to visit whenever he can. When you click with someone special, you don't give that up easily and he never has to this day.
Eric also continued to visit, sometimes with his Dad and his Dad's new wife, who's super and gorgeous (I don't know how he did that?). The relationship's still strong.
And. . . as for Larry, now there's a success story. Larry is now in his senior year at a well known University and has a full scholarship for graduate work starting August 1998! You better believe I'm proud of him. No one's closer. Though he's living at school, there remains no question who his family is even through today. He's almost always here on every holiday he can manage.
As for me, well, it's probably not very interesting to most people, but Mea is still living here now and Rual's around as well. This whole thing was first written up several years ago now for a guy some of you might know in New York City, Karl. Karl, now deceased, appreciated the value in bring up boys in the old fashioned way and had done his share. All of these "chapters' were written as they were taking place and air mailed to Karl who was going through some difficult times. It's all non-fiction and everyone in all these chapters is very much alive and very real today. The chapters, well, they were my attempt to keep a nice, kindly elderly man interested in people and life itself. Maybe I succeeded?
Truth is often stranger than fiction. . . if you're open to it and accept it for real. The fact of the matter is if you open your eyes, you'll find young men almost everywhere who, though they may start out bold, brash and full of themselves, many of them today know they've missed something and will respond beautifully if you take the time to care about them and don't hesitate to prove that tough love and clear direction many yearn for. Sure it takes time! But when the time comes don't hesitate to take his jeans down and bend him across your own lap for some time tested guidance. Don't play games with him, if you expect him to respect you. Spank him right and spank him for real and if you reach him, his tears, please and objections not withstanding, you'll find he wants to be there with you and together you'll enter one of the most rewarding associations possible. And most of all, you will see a boy exceed for his future far beyond his wildest dreams.
And, yes, I appreciated all those notes from all those of you who seemed to be following all of this. I've been astounded at how many people write!