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Timeshare Tails
Angel Fire, Part the Second

by Spankmeokc

Go to the contents page for this series.

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: 01 Mar 2018


Timeshare Tails: Angel Fire, Part the Second, A Sunrise Tail

Hi again. It’s Tommy again. I’ll be your narrator for this story which happened just a few years back.

Annie and I had recently bought into yet another time share company and wanted to use one of their bonus weeks – an extra week usage as an inducement to signing up (i. e. paying them real money in return for mere promises of future performance by someone else).

So I looked all through their catalog (remember those, like having a web site with all its separate pages in one simple book; what a concept!); and I ran across a timeshare resort in Santa Fe, New Mexico.

That brought back some nice memories, because Santa Fe is really a very picturesque place. Too picturesque for its own good, perhaps.

Apparently, it started in life as a cross-road of Native American trading trails. Then, when the Spanish did their conquest thing, they took over the village and built both a fort and trading post. The fort to keep the native population subjugated for their own good, of course. The trading post so the soldiers could spend their pay easily when off duty; and also so the Spanish citizens that followed the soldiers could safely loot the area for anything that would sell (excuse me, trade). As these traders gradually take over the already populated land with grants given to them by some far away king – but with the local soldiers and guns available to impose the Spanish point of view and religion and economics on a previously peaceful people. Ah, History.

When the Americano liberated the area (i.e. Here’s the New Boss, Same As The Old Boss) then the good citizens of Santa Fe tried to retain political relevance even while it became an economic backwater (for New Mexico, which is saying a lot!) by becoming the Territory and eventually the State capital.

But Santa Fe did have charm, as long as the charm was inexpensive; although the last time I was there the many East Coast wannabe’s that moved to Santa Fe got together and decided they needed more history, and something with real pizazz this time!

So instead of looking in the rich native heritage already there, our good citizens, by committee, invented a whole new, never before seen tradition – with its own parade, special festival days, special attire, and most important, a special museum that could amaze and astound tourists from the world around.

IMHO, this is exactly the same time proven approach taken by all those sleazy tourist traps and cheap souvenir shops that used to be by the side of every American highway complete with The Amazing Black Hole only 25 cents and those cheesy souvenir stores with wooden painted paddles like For A Little Deer With a Bear Behind (I never did understand the attraction of that one!)

Of course these new improved places nowadays are for a much higher class of tourists, willing to pay high dollar admission for an air conditioned afternoon, and occasionally willing to be sold an annual memberships that includes special seating at the annual parade! What a deal.

When the citizens committee got this sucker, I mean this philanthropic minded citizen, to donate money (an endowment but not the usual meaning for this website of stories) for the museum, it turned out about 2/3 of the exhibit space was reserved for this fellow’s life work, collecting Day of the Dead scenes. These are Papier-mâché village scenes of this elaborate and genuine tradition – itself a melding of religious and cultural traditions of both Native American and the Spanish peasant beliefs.

The museum had a collection of at least 20 distinct village scenes, all with highly detailed figures in native wear or costumes depicted in a village setting – complete with houses, streets, bars, shops, market, government buildings, etc. during a celebration. And each of these displays was probably 20 to 30 feet on a side. Each scene was quite distinct in colors, depicted art and native costumes being shown.

I was fascinated at how anyone could have collected so many of these fragile exhibits, which I had read were usually destroyed after each annual festival. – that is until I figured out that (hidden in the curator notes it was) they admitted that the collector had actually commissioned the creation of these works specifically for this collection.

So this was a collection of commissioned works purporting to be native folk art. – A direct contradiction of terms and a confabulation of art, ethics and hubris; but perfectly in keeping with a imaginary made up folk festival with which the exhibit was housed!

Oh well, enough soap box. Santa Fe is still a nice place to relax in and take in the real heritage, if you can find it amidst all the fake hoopla!

To make a long story shorter, I committed to the week in Santa Fe at this timeshare resort.

Even though Santa Fe is the state capital of New Mexico (which is one of fifty states in the United States of America, if you keep that in mind you will know more about American geography that 65% of Americans, at least) , it’s not easy to get to. The tiny airport has poor connections and it’s off the beaten path for sure.

So we planned to fly to Amarillo Texas (in the middle of the northern panhandle of Texas, you’ve heard of Texas right?) to visit friends who were temporarily exiled there by his corporate masters; and then drive on to Santa Fe to the west, so we could use the rental car while we need it to visit nearby sites and then we could drop off the car at the Santa Fe airport as we left (I did make sure there was a rental car return counter for this agency at their airport; I don’t normally feel the need to bother.)

When I realized I wasn’t sure of exact directions to the resort, I called the resort phone number in the catalog a couple of days before we left.

To my utter amazement I heard:

Oh no sir: this is the corporate office. The resort is in Angel Fire New Mexico, not here. Why would you think it was in Santa Fe?

I have to say: Maybe it had something to do with the address given in the resort book?

Oh , that organization isn’t affiliated with us, sir. We don’t control what they put in their directory. We just rent them rooms when they request it.

And this was listed as an owned property in the time share book I had in front of me!

I had always known that time share salesmen looked up to used car people as being their moral and ethical superiors, but now I was irate.

So I called the time share place and unloaded on the first person that answered for about thirty minutes straight. A fruitless effort but it helped me calm down enough to think:
If I had flown directly into Santa Fe and expected a taxi transportation to this resort I would have been totally screwed.
Since I had my own transportation, a rental car, I had options here. Angel Fire is a small ski area NW of Santa Fe, a drivable distance, and it was probably fairly quiet while out of season, like now. It could be very relaxing. The location would make it easier to get to Taos and also Red River, two nearby places we both liked.

So I convinced myself, this was all great; we’ll do it for fun, and we’ll survive and eventually laugh about the whole thing right! What else could go wrong?

And, there must be some cosmic reason for the screw up. Right?

Like my dad says: it’s either God’s will, or the wife’s fault! God bless the man. (I make a point to not use that God’s will phrase’ around Annie, for some reason. Maybe I’m not fond of irritating someone who has both my balls in her grip on a regular basis. I’m just saying.)

So after a few hectic days in Amarillo, a city from which you can literally see from one side to the other – with an unobstructed view; – it’s really flat;– we drive across the Texas panhandle – did I say it was flat?– into the desert of North Eastern New Mexico – more flat – except for this one volcano that pushed up out of the sand many, many, many years ago. So unexpected in this otherwise –flat – landscape someone made it into a national monument. (I expect that means a local crook conned the Feds into buying the useless land sight unseen and some bureaucrat had put it in this brand new ,national something-or-other program, in order to keep from being fired.) In other words, this is your government folks, and we’re here to help ourselves.
 

We slid past the turnoff to Philmont Boy Scout Ranch, a dirt road now. –It’s an interesting place – my dad was a scout executive so I was there several times as a kid and later on as a Boy Scout.

We had lots of time on the road and needed something to help the road go by – did I mention it was flat? – so I told Annie my tooth of time tail. It’s a good story and Annie seemed to appreciate it.

(Author’s note: in case my subtle maneuver escaped you, this is a shameless plug for a separate, but related story, see Part the First.)

At last we begin to get into some hills and then more and higher hills as we approach the Angel Fire Ski Basin (i. e. not so flat now)

Angel Fire – even as a winter ski resort it was definitely off the beaten path, off the road actually, had not many buildings in sight and even fewer people.

Mostly the stores and restaurants we went by had a closed for the season sign on them.

So I think to myself: this is what ski towns look like when not in season, remarkably like the ghost towns they arose from.

As we drove up to the resort, next to the Angel Fire Ski Runs I think to myself: So this is what ski runs look like when not covered with snow; not a pretty sight!

There, betwixt the remains of the original forest covered hillside, now a just few trees separated by wide swaths of clear cut ground, we see logs and stumps tossed haphazardly around the clear swaths with rocks poking up and boulders strewn all around and between them.

It gave me second thoughts about skiing as fast as I can a few inches above this mess, I admit it now. We would all have been skiing in the mud today!

By the sign for the Angel Fire Lodge, Annie spotted a young man, some sort of caretaker – a good looking redhead and red beard, lots of body hair, broad chest and muscular arms, so we parked and ask for the manager.

He’s not here this week, can I help you?

I didn’t know how to start so I just told him our story of mis-direction.

Oh, I saw your name on the guest list and opened one of the cabins, in case someone actually showed up. I wasn’t sure if it was right – we don’t get a lot of visitors this time of year.

I continue, relieved they had heard of us: We had a long trip from Amarillo, just like to get settled and eat

Yes sir, if you’ll just sign in – I’ll take you to our best room.

The main lodge was rustic and pretty empty so as I ask where we could catch a bite to eat.

Sorry sir. All the restaurant within 60 miles are closed until ski season starts up.

This was worse than I could have been Imagined!

I’m Mike, by the way. In season, I cook at the best restaurant in the area and I like to keep in practice the rest of the time. Why don’t you let me take care of dinner for you here in the dining room. I’m sure you’ll like it.

Exhausted, I agree, and tell Annie what a great deal I negotiated with the manager as we settle in.

The room he gave us is actually nice, a suite, with a living area and fireplace, glass doors overlooking the ski run (skis would be stuck in the mud, now) a separate master bedroom with a connecting fireplace, a master bath and a full kitchen with cooking equipment. The week was starting to be promising.

The wooden deck extending from the French doors outside the living area extends to the adjourning master bedroom; on the deck is a hot tub, with clear water bubbling away and a privacy fence at the edge of the deck. Cool.

After that road trip I have more than my share of sore muscles from the fixed body positions a car requires; so we both strip off and climb in the hot tub, outdoors on the balcony. It a good view overlooking the forest and the deserted ski runs. In winter, with skies zipping past it would be great. Even so the bubbles really sooth my achy muscles, so shortly I’m invigorated, and since there’s not a soul in sight I make my special moves on Annie and soon we’re both very happy and relaxed.

I know I should have worn a condom but I’ve gotten used to not needing them any more. I’m bad sometimes! I just hope the resort cleans the hot tub water that each previous guest used! I’d hate to have my little soldiers swim into a new home and spawn up another guys stream! (That doesn’t include my thoughts another guy’s little soldiers and where they might be headed!)

As we’re resting in the afterglow, in each other’s arms Mike saunters by on the ground below the deck: Sorry to bother you, but dinner’s at 7:15 pm – about 30 minutes. I’m sure you’d hate for it to get cold! And walks out of sight.

I was a little startled. I know he couldn’t see any inappropriate flesh from where he was, but if he had come by five minutes earlier he would have seen us doing our newlywed imitation.

Wait a minute, 7:15pm is an odd time to plan dinner! So as I think about that – it’s pretty obvious: Mike did see us earlier, fucking like crazy, he pushed the meal time back, but didn’t want to do it again.

Oh well, personally I don’t have any body modesty, not any more, not since Boy Scout days, but for some reason, I’m protective of Annie; even when she assures me it’s a cave-man reaction. Uug!

We’re here for the fun so we dress in the formal attire we brought, a throwback to our formal entertainment years (maybe a future story) and make our way to the lodge in time for the dinner bell.

Mike has decked the lodge lobby with low indirect lights which transform the place into an elegant setting. Mike is in a tux with a dish towel over one arm as he checks our reservation in his book, locates our table, escorts us carefully around the tables reserved for some other guests.

This is the best table in the house Madam, I’m glad I could reserve it for you, as he pulls out her chair to seat her.

Let me, Madam as Mike brings over a pillow and places it under her feet. Anne visible thaws – she often complains that she is so short it’s hard for her legs to be comfortable on standard height chairs.

The placemats and name cards along with the engraved menus add an elegance I hadn’t expected, So I thaw; I wouldn’t have wanted to delay this presentation myself.

Mike the recites to us today’s menu in French. I don’t have a clue, but Annie took it in college so she rescues us. To this day, I don’t have any idea what she ordered.

It’s a great meal, just great. Red and White wine as appropriate with each course. Just great.

Mike finally brings the after dinner tequila, 100 percent aged agave. Appropriate for New Mexico and excellent, even by their standards. This is the smooth silky sipping kind, not the rough lime and salt kind and we start swapping stories. Annie makes Mike sit with us and we toast to the resort, to the staff, to the other guests (who were kind enough to stay away) and to our vacation, now rescued from time-share oblivion.

Mike seems to like siting with us and tells ski lodge stories from the point of view of the staff watching the stupid things ski nuts do. We both realize he is describing Annie and I exactly on our last ski trip, so I change the subject.

What would you recommend we do to explore the area?

What did you originally have in mind when you thought you were staying in Santa Fe?

We still want to go to Santa Fe for one or two days; but we also want to go to Red River and Taos, to start

Mike says: There is a back road to Santa Fe, that recently opened, It’s not really on a map, but it’s more direct than the highway and saves an hour or more of driving.

It’s open now, but still a little rough. You’d have to go in my 4x 4. That rental would never make it.

I’m game, How about you Annie? Mike do you really have the time to cart two tourists around?

I have to check in with the Corporate office once a week, so I have to go there anyway. So I’ve got all day. Plenty of time for you to check out the good stuff.

Great! When should we leave?

Be ready by 9 am at the lodge, that will be fine.

Sure. Thanks a lot.

So Annie and I retire to the room, with the rest of the tequila. We have some more quality time in the hot tub, under the stars now. In a mountainous area with no city lights around there are more stars than you can believe. Some of them have discernable colors which you can’t ever see from near a city.

We have great sex again, with all the lights on, just us, and fall asleep together, content.

Next morning, we start out right on time, but the road rapidly deteriorates from gravel to rough dirt to potholes to occasional logs that Mike has to pull out of the road with his winch on the font of his 4 x 4.

I said it was rough, don’t worry. It’s been lots worse!

I was worried if we would make it, but sure enough, as we drive over the last hill and see Santa Fe nestled out below and beyond us it looks great. We saved a lot of time by not going the highway which is the long way around. It’s hilly enough we can’t see all the city, but I recognize the Opera House and know we’re on the right track.

Wow, even with the road hazard we got here quick.

It’s be quicker going back with the road cleared out. Mike assures us.

Cool

Mike drops us off by the Square, in the middle of the Historic Old Town and we just wander around, covering museums, shops, Indians selling jewelry from rugs around the square. Lots of tourists, lots of bookstores, Lots of art shops selling more pottery than you can shake a stick at.

For lunch Mike meets us at the Shed, the most famous restaurant in Santa Fe. I had been there when in college, it was great food then. Now I think it has new owners and a new location, so the only resemblance is the name and the name of the recipes. Oh well, nothing last’s forever but the earth and sky as Kerry Livgren assures us. (Kansas Dust in the Wind 1977)

As soon as we see the Mike’s 4 x 4, in mid-afternoon, Annie climbs in the back seat, stretches and falls asleep. So I slide in the front passenger next to Mike.

I check that Annie is doing her sleeping beauty imitation, so I’m free to ask Mike: Listen I’m not offended, just curious, were you watching us have sex with binoculars or is there a camera I didn’t see?

Mike flashes me a grin: I can tell you, but then I’d have to kill you!

You know, as resort management, it’s our duty to keep our guests safe, but here, where every room is some distance apart we can’t just use our eyes. We have to use electronic assistance, where appropriate. But we’re not supposed to intrude on guest privacy, of course.

My roommate and I started in Vegas, which has cameras everywhere in the casino, and the lobby and the public spaces. It’s only a small step from cameras on the public area to the hotel halls to the hotel rooms, to ensure guest safety of course.

There is a security room for the cameras from the casino and public areas, everyone knows about. But I guarantee there is a deeper room with cameras feed from every honeymoon suite. With a bank of monitors and live-action feed to special high paying guests. Live action is better money but video tape is just as good a show. So that special staff commands a library of honeymoon tapes that go back for years and years. And that staff has A/V skills to mix special tapes for the specific tastes of special guests and for management too, of course.

All I can says is: If there’s a hot tub in the room, or on the balcony, you can guarantee there is a camera on it.

After that revelation Mike continues:
Let me tell you a story, purely fictional of course.

Two friends in Vegas get jobs on the strip at the same hotel, one in guest security, one in guest reception. Soon the Reception specialist is assigned to VIP reception, that is, celebrities; while the guest security gets bumped to the deep camera division.

So together one had insight into celebrities staying on site and knew the rooms they were in and when there were coming and going and with whom; and the other guy had access to rig up a camera in any room needed and the clearance to wire a video run to a recorder. So the guy in the special room now knows when to turn on the cameras in the celebrity suites for any possible action.

Turns out that any of the special tapes that show an identifiable celebrity face connect to a sex scene can be sold for a lot of money to the right party. A lot!

After just two years of this scheme, these two friends of mine make enough to buy a run-down out of the way ski resort and live off the beaten path. Who would have thought it?

So of course they put cameras everywhere in their new home. For guest protection, of course.

I have to ask: Did you make a sex tape of Annie and I?

Mike laughs: Don’t be silly. But you could check out the lodge channel 777, just key in code 69 when it asks for authorization. We, I mean my friends, just collected some of the tapes that appealed to us for our own private channel.

What a racket I agree. I’m glad your friends got away with it while they could. I hear Vegas hates to give up on money or give it to anyone else.

My friends were just lucky. The Vegas hotel had a falling out with their owners and all the management and staff split. Just dumb luck.

Mike changes subject: Oh by the way, since it’s just us here?

Go on. I say, curious but entertained so far.

That was a stupid thing you did, to schedule the wrong city.

Yep, I have to agree.

Mike continues: If my boyfriend did that with me. I’d make sure he couldn’t sit down for a week.

I notice the innuendo and respond carefully.

Yeah I probably do deserve a long hard spanking for a stunt like that.

I glanced back at Annie, still asleep.

Will she give you one, like you need?

I couldn’t help but notice the like you need he interjected and decided to go along.

No she’s OK with my spanking fetish, but won’t help me out herself, so I’m on my own there.

Mike continues: If you need it then, maybe I could help you out.

Where is your boyfriend?

My roommate is hiking alone for a few days along the ridge trails; I never know when he’ll be back. So what are your plans for tomorrow?

I go: Annie will rest all morning, she likes that. I’ll get up early, probably hike some. Are there
any trails I can follow easily?

I’ll point you out some as we go past.

This time I continue: So do you spank your boyfriend, your roommate?

Only when he needs it!

Ah, when was the last time?

About a week ago. He didn’t want to do his share of the kitchen cleanup. But he changed his mind after I gave him a cherry red ass. So then he had to finished it with his cherry red ass on full display,

Mike laughs , I join in, Sounds like you might know how to give a proper spanking. That’s not an easy skill to find.

So I decide. What the Hell.

OK I’m ready for my spanking! Is now OK?

Mike responds: Sorry. We’re five minutes from the lodge and I need to start your next meal. After I serve and clean up I have a date, so it’ll have to be tomorrow, is that OK.

Sure, it’s a date. Don’t let me down now.

Your wish is my command, sir.

As we drive up near the lodge, Mike points me in direction of a trail head sign.

That trail leads up to a canyon ridge with a nice view. There is a old cabin where you can sit down, a good place to eat and watch the sun come up over the canyon. Spectacular really.

After a rest and another spectacular dinner, Annie and I just collapse into bed, I set the TV to channel 777, key in the code and start to see a steady stream of sex videos, looks like enthusiastic amateurs, so Mike must have been telling the truth. Which I figured, but you never know.

Just as I was about to nod off, the scene changed to an outdoor scene, a balcony with a hot tub and a couple going at it, steadily. Sure enough it was Annie’s face visible to the camera and me on the top, my butt enthusiastically pumping up and down. I wait a little bit, and the next scene is Annie and I the previous night in this very bed, fucking like rabbits. I can tell there are two cameras for this bedroom, one at the head and above the bed and one at the foot, seems to be behind the TV; so the view has a great shot of all our relevant body parts.

Great, Now we’re movie stars!

I find myself getting aroused at the videos, but with Annie still asleep I decide I better get some sleep for the trail tomorrow, So I flip off the cameras and douse the lights for good measure.

The next morning I wake up just before light; so I dress in layers, grab a small pack ready with water, snack, binoculars, sunscreen and head out in the direction of the trailhead Mike pointed out the evening before.

It’s mostly up and down and up again. I’m out of shape, of course, so I have to take my time.

It’s so quiet in these woods. I hear a few birds, calling out then flying away as I get closes. I hear a howl of a coyote, the breeze so quietly rustling in the brush. My feet brushing along the ground. The occasion noise of a stream rushing nearby. A whole different world from my normal life.

After about an hour I run across the cabin he mentions. Obviously seen better days, but it appears to have been repaired from time to time. The outdoor table and bench is in good shape. And there is a great view over the ridge edge a few feet away. This place is not on any map but it’s absolutely gorgeous.

I take a few photos with my iPhone and just look around in awe.

As I move toward the cabin Mike comes out: You left your sandwich in your lodge and I didn’t want you to starve.

I wasn’t entirely surprised at his sudden appearance, but decide not to ask how he knew I left my sandwich in that kitchen, I just accept it as is.

So we eat together at the table shooting the breeze, in the pleasant breeze.

When Mike wipes his hands on a napkin he announces: Now you’ve earned two spankings! and pats his lap.

Get over here NOW!

As I move in front of Mike he starts to unbuttoned my shorts.

I protest: But we’re outside! What if someone comes by?

Mike just says: We’re miles from anyone. Who would come by? Don’t worry. It’s a great day for a spanking. Here let me, I’m in charge now. As Mike slaps my hand away.

Mike unbuttoned my shorts, drops them and removes my T-Shirt (Instant Human, Just Add Coffee) and takes it off over my head.

Then my under armour brand t-shirt.

He runs his hand over my chest.

You work out. I like that

You must too. I respond, You’re really buff.

Nope, but I’m pretty active every day out here. I don’t need no gym.

All while he pulls out my leather belt and sets it aside. This is for part 2

Mike kneels to my feet, careful unties each boot and lifts my foot out, then the sock, then removes my shorts over my feet, leaving me in my jockey boxer briefs camouflage style – my cock is an obvious bulge pressing forward.

Those are cute, really. Too bad they have to come off!

Mike turns me around to face the canyon. As I do, he lowers my briefs, careful to pull the front forward to clear my fully erect cock.

So I’m facing the edge of the cliff, looking out over this gorgeous canyon, now stark naked to the entire world, like our distant ancestors were every day of their life.

It’s quite a sight I say, admiringly.

It sure is. Mike agrees.

Then I realize he’s looking at a different view, at my butt not the canyon.

Lay over me now, facing outward– so you can have the canyon view to enjoy, if you can.

So I do. As I lay over his legs I realize he is naked too and can feel his erection pressing into my side, while mine is pushing between his legs.

We’re both dressed au natural now!

I listen to the absolute silence all around us. Knowing the peace and serene quiet won’t be for long.

A very loud SPAP bursts from my butt, then a pause.

SLAP pause

SLAP pause

SLAP pause

It’s Easy peasy, but I have a feeling this won’t last long.

Mike doubles his speed about every minute or so. So when I’m just a few minutes in, Mike is into this now rapid fire:

SLAP. SLAP. SLAP!

Boy he’s strong! And he’s not holding anything back!

I realize this is starting to get to me, way too soon!

I start to move around just trying to escape the full sting of the next slap, but he’s having none of that and bears down hard on the small of my back, crushing my breath into his thigh.

I Immediately lift my arms back to hold him off; but Mike just as quickly grabs and gathers my wrists together and turns them up against my back. Pinning my torso into place! Damn! And Ow! Now I can’t do anything to escape his increasingly hard swats.

Then he doubles the intensity, suddenly without warning.

I start to make small short noises with my sudden short breaths.

I’m never used to that phase, it gets me every time. But I’m determined to show I can take anything he can dish out.

But Mike continues spanking me hard, over and over and over

He’s still dishing it out and I’m still trying to take it.

I can’t help but get noisy, My body insists on showing a reaction, even when I don’t want to Damn!

When he switches to direct strikes on my sit spots, I just full out yell, and hear my yells roll off the canyon walls and come back to me!

OW OUCH OW OUCH flew out of my mouth

Then back to me

Ow Ouch Ow Ouch from the opposite canyon wall

And another echo

ow ouch ow ouch from another wall of rock

I give up all semblance of stoicism and just plain cry out.

As I continue to cry out, my cries and their echo bounce out and refrain from the canyon wall.

It sounds like there’s a dozen or two boys being soundly spanked as far as the ear can hear! But it’s just me – making enough noise for a dozen or so boys!

Mike stops briefly and brings his knee up – which forces my butt into an angle – the perfect striking angle in fact!

Then a fire explodes from my rear and engulfs my brain with a roar.

POW. POW. POW. POW.

The impact of a paddle on my bare and sore skin is going to be more than I can take – just like it should be!

I can hear the echo of each impact on my butt as well as they echo of my yells.

With a NO NO I start bawling and stop talking, just like when my dad paddled me, time after time.

I try to look at the trees and sky, but can’t see anything beyond the veil of tears limiting my vision.

His firm grip on my wrists never relents so I have to take this intense pain.

NO. STOP. NOW. NO. PLEASE.

I want this to be over. I need it to be done. But what I want is having no effect on the conflagration now all over my ass from my lower back to my upper thighs.

I’ll stop when I’m good and ready! Mike assures me. And you’re going to take it. There’s no one within miles but us. No one to stop your spanking except me. And I’m not ready to stop. Not by a long shot. POW

I’ve never felt anything like it , except, maybe, my last spanking.

I seem to forget what they are really like; and start to long for another-then whenever I get spanked again I just want it to stop.

Oh No Stopping Now. We’re just getting started.

A pause, I hear the paddle being laid on the table

Then WHAP.

I feel a streak of fire across my butt, from one side to the other just other erupts in pain.

He’s using my own leather belt on me!

I just screamed. I’m ashamed of it but I had no choice and still screaming I hear the echoes of my screams come back to me.

He belts me from the center of my butt up to the top ridge, then down to my lower sit spots where he strikes me over and over. Mike takes me beyond any limits I thought I had and then some.

My bawling and screaming wears me out, so I just lay there, over his lap, taking this spanking without any resistance. The pain continued to mounts up and overtakes my being so I am nothing except a crying boy, sorry for everything I ever did.

He lays the belt on my back, then lets it hang around my neck.

I thought we were done after all that. But I thought wrong!

Mike announces: This is for not using a condom in the hot tub.

I feel my butt light up with strips of fire all across it!

What the hell was that? I look back and see Mike holding a leather strap, folder over twice so the free end has six or eight pieces, offset from each other and spread out side by side, so the leather is striking across an area maybe 12 or 14 inches wide at the same time. The damn thing is slapping across one entire side of my butt and the landing sharply down all the way from one side to the other.

I’m amazed: I’ve never felt that before!

Mike asks: Is it too much?

I can take it. I can take whatever you’re willing to dish out.
 

Mike again: Ok man here goes.

He uses that multiple strap technique across my entire bare butt, up and down, each strike about a minute apart

Time enough for the fire started by one strike to begin to fade down and then he lights it up again even hotter!

Soon there is nothing but a wave of fire that I’m riding on.

After the sun was well up he slowed down, gave me 10 or final strikes with his full strength WOW!

Your butt has had enough! I’m tearing up just looking at it. You can take a lot! My roomie would have been on his knees begging to suck my cock a long time ago!

I answer honestly: I grew up getting spanked, whether I wanted it or not; my dad, my granddad, my uncles, my coach, the Vice Principal of boys discipline, never gave me any choice. I had to take everything they wanted to dish out; that’s what a real spanking is for me.

This consensual stuff where you have safe words is for pussies.

Mike gives: Well I take my hat off to you, I’m not sure I could do that. Damn!

After a few minutes, when my crying slows down he pulls and pulls me upright by my wrists and by the belt still looped around my neck.

No rubbing now. I want you to enjoy that burn for a while.

Yes sir

And I like the sight of your cherry red butt against those red Rocks of the canyon. The strips and shades of your butt match the formations along the canyon wall, pretty good.

Yes sir.

I love to do this when the sun is rising so I can compare the red rising sun with the red