The Half-term after Easter
|by Paul Lewis|
Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 27 Mar 2010
Following the posting of my story, “One Thing leads to Another”, I had no real intention of adding to it. Thanks entirely, however, to the very gratifying response to that piece and a number of enquiries as to whether I would be writing any more about the early adventures of Mark and I, I have put together the following, which describes the next time that we were able to indulge. Reading it through, I see that the telling of it takes a lot longer than did the actual events described but, hopefully, that will serve to help readers visualize what was going on!
The Half-term after Easter.
A subtle change had taken place in the friendship between my young pal, Mark and I, a friendship that had begun when were three and four years old, respectively. Prior to the events of our recent school holiday, we had been simply two very ordinary young boys, enjoying each other's company and doing all the things that ten-and-eleven-year-olds do. Things such as climbing trees, racing about, playing football, telling horrendously weak jokes (at which we laughed uproariously) and generally “mucking about”.
Then, suddenly, all that had changed and it was as if some invisible barrier had been breached, as our awakening sexuality began to make itself felt. One afternoon towards the end of the holiday, a boisterous game out in the garden had resulted in the demolition of our old wood-bunker and, afterwards, right there in the living room, my mother had given me a sound spanking on my bare backside. Mark who, officially, had been sent home had, in fact, mischievously crept back in through our side-gate, round to the back and, undetected, had watched the whole of the action through the still-open garden door.
When he admitted to his cheeky behaviour after school the following week, I more or less blackmailed him into submitting to a spanking from me as a punishment, particularly as he had been the instigator of the game in the first place. His spanking got us both aroused and, when I had done with him, we swapped over and he smacked my bare bottom in his turn. We both finished up with rock-hard erections that we relieved by rubbing each other to a climax.
Having made our first and completely unanticipated, foray into what might, justifiably, be termed “recreational spanking”, Mark and I were keen to repeat what, for both of us, had been an enjoyable and satisfying experience. This, however, was easier said than done. That first opportunity, at Mark's home, afforded by the fact that both our mothers were out, and we had the house to ourselves for an hour one Monday afternoon after school, was not so easily repeated.
The injunction against us playing together had been lifted very soon after the end of the Easter holiday, so we were still free to meet up when time permitted. However, although my mother still had her Townswomen's Guild meetings on a Monday, leaving our house free until 5.00 p.m. or so, Mark's mother had changed her part-time working hours, such that she was at home when Mark returned from school and she was not prepared to let him out to play with me, until after he'd done his homework and had his tea, so that was rather the end of that for the time being.
We did still get together some evenings and weekends, though our play was limited very much to the conventional and which, to be fair, we still thoroughly enjoyed. Unfortunately, however, the genie had been let out of the bottle and could not be sent back and, although we never really talked about it very much, we both knew quite clearly what we wanted, the next time we had a chance.
That chance came some six weeks later, when we finished school for the three-day half-term break. I had told Mark, that I would ask my mother if it would be alright for him to come round all day Monday, thus giving us the run of the house that afternoon. Sunday evening, I broached the subject.
“Mum,” I began, “would it be OK if Mark came round tomorrow? We could spend some time in the park in the morning and then come back for lunch and play here in the afternoon.”
My mother looked across at me and nodded. “Yes, of course, Paul. However, I hope that I do not have to remind you, to remember what you are allowed to do and what not if you and Mark are going to be in the house on your own? I trust you don't want to end up with a good smacked bottom like you did the last time you and Mark played here for the afternoon?” She raised her eyebrows questioningly.
I shook my head slightly, keeping my face deadly serious as I replied, meekly, “no, Mum.” Little did she know, that ending up with a good smacked bottom was precisely what I wanted, though not, certainly, the way she had in mind. In fact, if all went according to plan, there would be two well-smacked bottoms and two very happy, well-satisfied young lads by the end of tomorrow afternoon!
“Frankly, though, Paul,” she continued, “I can't for the life of me, think what got into you that day; you are normally such a sensible lad. Just make sure you keep it that way.”
I nodded vigorously. “Yes, Mum, there'll be no trouble, honestly! May I go and ring Mark now?”
She nodded, smiling, as I shot out to the phone. Quickly dialling Mark's number, his father answered and went straight to call my pal who, apparently was up in his room. A moment later, he came to the phone.
“Hi Paul! Have you done it?” he asked, excitedly, “Is everything OK for tomorrow?”
“Yep, it's all done,” I replied, keeping my voice fairly low. “If you can get round by 9.00 tomorrow morning, we'll go down to the park and then back here by 1230 for lunch. Mum goes out about 1.30 and then we'll have the place to ourselves until 5.00!”
“Brilliant!” was his only reply and we rang off.
The following morning dawned bright and sunny, a beautiful day to be outside. Mark arrived at 9.00 on the dot and we set off for the park, football and tennis rackets in hand. We had both grown a little since the Easter holiday; well, we were at that stage. We were both dressed in Tee-shirts, snug, elastic-waisted sports shorts, ankle socks and trainers. Even if I do say it myself, we did look the part; fresh-faced, eager young boys with the rapidly-developing athletic build that comes from plenty of sport, fresh air and exercise. This, thankfully, was long before the era of computer-game-addicted couch-potato children.
Mark's golden-blond hair shone in the sun and it struck me, how angelic he looked. Looks can be deceiving! We chatted and laughed as we trotted along, never mentioning the coming afternoon although both, I am sure, looking forward with anticipation to what was going to happen. I know I was, anyway!
We spent a glorious morning footballing, playing a few sets of tennis when we could get on the courts and chasing each other about until we flopped down with exhaustion. Finally, looking at my watch and seeing it was just after 12.00, I said to Mark, “Come on, time to get back!”
He grinned and, gathering up our things, we made our way swiftly home. I'm ashamed to admit, that I can hardly remember what we had for lunch, my mind was so full of what was to come. Looking at my friend, I saw he seemed to be similarly preoccupied and my mother, noticing our uncharacteristic silence, remarked with a smile, “what's the matter with you two? I've never seen you so quiet!”
Jerking my attention back to the present, I laughed and said, “Nothing the matter, Mum, we've just been busy this morning.”
“Oh, so that's it, is it. Well, why not play some board-games in the lounge this afternoon whilst I'm gone?”
I caught Mark's eye, seeing that he was trying desperately hard to stifle a grin, before replying, “maybe we'll do that.”
Mother looked at her watch. “Right then, I'm off in a few minutes. You boys enjoy yourselves and be good!”
We both nodded, not trusting ourselves to speak.
Ten minutes later, the front door closed behind Mum and the two of us just burst out laughing. “Blimey, Paul!” exclaimed Mark when he had recovered sufficiently, “I've never tried so hard not to laugh as I did just then!”
I nodded, “Likewise!” then added with a grin, “now, shall we go into the lounge and get out some board games?”
Mark just stuck out his tongue and didn't deign to reply, so I went on, “right then, I think we'd better go up to my room, don't you?”
Mark preceded me up the stairs, giving me a good view of his bum in his tight shorts and
I couldn't resist giving him a sharp slap. He turned his head and put his tongue out again.
“Any more of that, my lad,” I said in mock-severity, “and you're going to
get a good smacked bottom!”
He stopped on the stairs, turned to face me, stuck out his tongue, put his thumbs in his ears and wiggled his fingers at me, then blew a raspberry. “Right!” I said, “that does it! You're really going to get it now!”
Mark turned and ran, laughing, the rest of the way up the stairs, with me slapping his behind all the way. Piling into my bedroom, we collapsed in a tussling heap on the bed and I grabbed at the waistband of Mark's shorts, intending to haul them down straight away. However, he definitely had developed in strength, even over the last few weeks and was not so easy to bundle as he had been in the past. He wriggled and squirmed, eventually escaping from my grip and twisted, so that now I was face down over the side of the bed and he was on top of me. He shifted slightly, reached round and gave my bottom several hard smacks. “Right, now who's getting it?” he demanded, laying on some more good wallops. What with the weight of Mark's body on mine and the slaps he was landing on my arse, I was already starting to stiffen. I stopped struggling.
“OK, look,” I suggested. “The last time, I did you first. As you've sort of won the bundle, why don't you go first this time, carry on and spank me, properly? I was thinking earlier, it might be good if we went across each other's knees, the way Mum spanks me.”
Mark considered. “OK,” he replied, “how do you want to do it?”
“Well, let me up and we'll fetch in one of those straight-backed chairs from my parents' room. Then you can sit on that and I'll go over your knees. How does that sound?”
“Why not, let's give it a try.”
He got off me and I turned and stood up, noticing the distinctive bulge in the front of my shorts as I did so. I looked at Mark; his shorts were showing a slightly smaller, but definite similarity to mine.
“You know what,” I said, “We're going to be losing our shorts and pants anyway, so why don't we just take everything off now? It'll be a lot more comfortable!”
Mark grinned his mischievous grin and, without another word, tugged his Tee-shirt up, over his head and off. I quickly followed suite and, very rapidly, our trainers and socks had followed our shirts, leaving us in nothing but shorts and pants. “Both together then!” I suggested.
Facing each other, we simultaneously hooked our thumbs into the elasticised waistbands and hauled off our tight shorts, lifting them slightly to clear our erections and pulled them down, taking our underpants with them. Now we stood naked, our small cocks springing up out of their confinement and pointing eagerly sky-wards. I looked at Mark; I was sure that his prick was a bit bigger than the last time I'd seen it but still it wasn't quite the size of my own which at that time, was all of 3-½ inches, fully erect.
Still grinning like idiots, we gave each other's cocks a quick, playful rub, then went out onto the landing to go to my parents' bedroom for a chair. The distance, all of ten feet, took rather longer than normal as, all the way, it was being interrupted by a slap fight, as we each tried to land as many smacks as possible on the other's bare backside. At one point, we stopped altogether as I succeeded in catching Mark firmly around the waist and, holding him tightly with one arm, managed to turn him so that his bottom was facing me and smacked his rear-end as hard as I could, probably about twelve times, before he broke free and ran into my parents' bedroom to escape.
I followed him in and he grinned at me from the opposite side of the large bed. The room was redolent of my mother's favourite perfume, which still hung faintly in the air.
“OK, OK!” I said. “No more until we do it for real. Pax!” As Mark moved back round the bed towards me, I went to a chair, had just dragged it away from the wall and was about to pick it up, when Mark stopped me. “Why take it to your room?” he said. “Why don't we just do it here?”
I looked at him; his eyes were sparkling and they held the most mischievous glint I had ever seen and, if it were possible, my cock seemed to stiffen even more. I found the whole idea of spanking and being spanked, right there in my parents' bedroom, unbelievably erotic.
“You're a really naughty boy, aren't you?” I said, rather huskily. “Can you imagine, what would happen, if Mum came back now and found us in here, like this?”
He nodded, his own prick swaying vertically in front of him. “I bet she'd spank us both, wouldn't she?” he replied, almost in a whisper.
I nodded. “You're not kidding and I bet she'd give it to you just like she gives it to me, bloody hard too!” The mental image of Mark, his smooth, firm globes uppermost over my mother's knee, was mind-blowing. I could just see her, spanking him fast and hard, from the crown of his buttocks to his thighs and back again, back and forth from cheek to cheek, the loud, sharp smacks cracking round the room, while he squirmed and wriggled, legs kicking and showing off his small pink bulls-eye and neat, firm balls to the world, his sore arse getting redder and redder.
I shook my head, as if to clear it. “Come on then, get smacking!” I said, abruptly. Mark seated himself and pulled me forward by one arm. It wasn't so easy to get into a good position over his knees, as he was a lot smaller than my mother but, with a bit of manoeuvring back and forth (and a good deal of rubbing between our two cocks), we managed to get me into a suitable position, with my buttocks well raised for a good, sound spanking.
“Hey, Paul! Your bum's really red!” he exclaimed, running his hand over my mounds. “You're not the only one who landed some good ones!”
I giggled. “You just wait. Your bum will be red enough to fry an egg on, by the time I've finished with you!” I replied.
His only answer was a hard, sharp slap that landed on the peak of my left cheek and I gasped slightly; Mark was definitely getting stronger! “Felt that one, didn't you?” he went on, in a satisfied tone. Then, without further ado he got down to it properly. Six or eight good, hard smacks followed in quick succession, spread all over my buttocks and I noticed that he quite often aimed to slap across the lower end of my crack, an area that seemed more sensitive than the rest. I wondered where he had got that idea from but realised that, probably, he might well have been spanked like that himself in the past.
After a minute or so of constant spanking my arse was smarting nicely, before he paused and I felt his hand go down between my legs to grasp my balls, firmly but gently and then began to massage them. The sensation was incredible and I let out an involuntary moan of pleasure at his touch. “Mmmmmmmmm!”
“You like that, don't you?” he asked, in a husky whisper, quite unlike his normal voice. My reply was to part my legs a little more, giving him easier access and he reached down further, fully cupping my firm scrotum in his small hand. “Ahhhhhhhhhh,” I moaned again and became aware that, without any conscious intention, I had started pushing back and forth across his knees, my very stiff cock rubbing against the satiny skin of his naked thigh.
[The sensations I was experiencing were all totally new and quite amazing. Thinking about all this years later, I have come to realise that, although Mark was a year younger than I, he very likely, was a little ahead in his sexual development, with the result that we were both, more or less, at a similar stage; that is, on the